Page 67 of Fake Out Hearts

I nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The truth is, I don’t have a clue what to expect at this thing. I’ve been to plenty of fancy events in my time with Shawn, but I was always more of an accessory to him than a feature, so I usually just sat around sipping champagne and smiling for the cameras—because there were always cameras.

I slip the heels and coat on, and we take turns petting Milo goodbye, then head to the car. Theo drives toward downtown and I realize I don’t even know where the event is being held until we arrive at a super ritzy hotel. I can’t tell if it’s as old as it looks or just designed to come across that way, but it’s stunning.

Theo pulls up to the valet parking area and puts the car in park but doesn’t get out. Instead, he reaches for my hand. “Don’t be nervous. You’re gonna be great.”

“Thanks. I’ll follow your lead.”

Theo nods and climbs out of the car, so I do too. It’s chilly but bearable, and dozens of people in some of the most expensive looking clothes I’ve ever seen are milling around the grand staircase that serves as the entrance to the hotel. There’s even a red carpet! I stand stunned taking it all in until Theo loops his arm through mine. He smiles and leads me confidently up the stairs like he’s done this a million times—he probably has—but when we reach the top, cameras blind me as they flash repeatedly in my face.

“Theo! Mr. Camden! Do you have a minute to talk?” a reporter I can’t see through the dancing spots in my eyes asks.

I don’t know why, but it didn’t occur to me that the press would be here tonight, so my body tenses. Putting on an act for rich people is one thing, but realizing I’ll be doing it under the microscope of the paparazzi is a whole different game.

But Theo puts his hand on the small of my back, and I take a deep breath.

“We’ve got this,” he whispers in my ear, then ushers me closer to the reporter, who’s finally starting to swim into view now that the camera flashes have stopped popping.

The poor guy is young and about as tall as me, and the tuxedo he’s wearing is wrinkled and at least a size too big. The deer-in-the-headlights look on his face gives me the impression he’s fresh out of college and can’t believe Theo is talking to him.

“T-thank you for your time, Mr. Camden. How are you feeling about this season so far?”

Theo straightens his tux jacket confidently and flashes that camera-ready grin of his. “Fantastic, thanks for asking. But listen, boys, there’ll be plenty of time to talk shop later. I need to make the rounds, so if you’ll excuse us,” he says, ready to leave the reporters shouting after us. And they do.

“Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Camden!” the reporter shouts, and Theo grins at me.

I laugh breathlessly, still having a hard time accepting all of this is real. Not that long ago, I was convinced I was trapped in a dead-end relationship with a deadbeat guy because it was the only way I could keep living in the States. But now here I am literally walking the red carpet with one of the biggest names in the NHL.

And people are noticing. I see their eyes lock on and follow me as we work our way into the hotel’s ballroom and hand our coats to an attendant at the door. I’m sure they’re talking about us behind our backs, but I couldn’t care less. They don’t have a clue what’s really going on here, and that’s exactly how we want it.

“Want a drink?” Theo asks over the soft jazz music playing throughout the room as he spots a waiter carrying a tray of champagne nearby.

“I won’t say no.”

“Good,” he says and waves the waiter down. He grabs two flutes from the tray and hands me one, then clinks the lip of his glass against mine. “Thanks for coming to this. I know it’s a lot, but it would’ve been way worse to do this alone.”

“And the questions would’ve been way more invasive, I’m sure,” I say, raising my eyebrows at him as I take a sip of the champagne. It’s some of the smoothest I’ve ever had, but the bubbles still tingle on their way down. I’m glad for the distraction because Theo is right. This place is overstimulating, and it doesn’t help that it’s absolutely packed with people.

There are little tables placed throughout the crowd for people to rest their things on and talk, but they’re all taken, and there’s nowhere to sit. We just got here, and my feet are already starting to hurt from my heels, but I’ve got to power through it.

“There are Margo and Callie,” Theo says, pointing at one of the tables on the other side of the room. Margo is wearing a stunning, flowing red dress and Callie looks equally as good in a shade that matches the champagne we’re all drinking. “Why don’t you go say hi to them? I need to make the rounds with the managers and the other bigwigs. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

“Okay,” I say, then make a beeline for the girls. They light up when they see me approaching, and Margo lets out an audible gasp before she throws her arms around me.

“Oh my god. You look incredible, Becca!”

“So do both of you,” I say then give Callie a hug too.

“Seriously, you look right at home here,” Callie says and pulls my hair back over the shoulder where I’d been draping it. When I don’t answer, Callie laughs. “Okay, it’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“More than a little,” I admit, and Margo flashes me a sympathetic smile before putting her hand on my shoulder.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, we’re all in this together. These things don’t tend to last very long. The guys make their rounds, maybe give a speech or two, and then we’re free to go. So, you don’t have too much more to suffer through.” She picks up a glass of champagne from their table and raises it to me. “Here’s to the wives and girlfriends club.”

“To the wives and girlfriends club,” I agree, and the three of us knock our glasses together before sipping the surely expensive bubbly.

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

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