Page 23 of The Run Option

“That’ll work. Just get it to me as soon as you can. You both should post it on social media as well. So go ahead and tell her to talk to her family and you talk to yours.”

My head falls back against the seat rest. I had forgotten we needed to tell our families. The public was one thing, but telling my brother? My friends? I hadn’t even considered the guys on the team. This is going to be much more than a media frenzy. Both our lives are about to be flipped upside down.

“Go ahead and set a wedding date tonight too. The more planned this looks, the better. Come up with some lovey-dovey story and send it over to me. Make sure this thing is ironclad. No slip-ups, or we’ll get eaten alive. It’s not just you that’s well known. Willow has her own following, not to mention the entire Lions fan base knows her. Every detail counts.”

“Got it. No slip-ups.”

I’m staring out my windshield at the door to the facility when I spot the documentary crew walking in, cameras in tow. I let out a groan.

“What? Are you second-guessing things?” Brock asks.

“No, I just saw the documentary crew. I’d forgotten about them.”

“I’m glad you brought them up because they’re another reason we can’t have anything amiss. If they get a hold of eventhesmallestdetail, the entire documentary will turn into an exposé.”

“It already is,” I grumble.

“What do you mean? I thought things were going well.”

I cringe. I’d forgotten that I’d been lying to Brock about my contempt for the crew.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” I say and I hear him sigh. He’s going to run out of air if he keeps this up.

“Tell me what’s been happening.”

“It’s nothing. They just seem to be incredibly focused on my past rather than my present.”

“Well, your wife will be sure to change that. You two are going to be the newitcouple, and with the way this is going to be announced, they’ll have a lot of questions.”

“I know this is probably good for my career, but I think I’d rather lose everything than hear that producer ask me one more passive-aggressive question.”

“It’ll be over once the season is done, and you’ll have what’s hopefully a shining report to show the public that the past you is gone. With Willow by your side, you’ll look like a family man too.”

“Yeah, that will be good,” I say in a quiet voice.

“All right, I’m going to get started on launching this whole relationship. Make sure you get me that photo and story soon. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Of course, it’s my job.”

Brock hangs up. I drop my phone into my lap, staring ahead at the facility I need to go back into. I’d rather go home, maybe take one of the horses out for a trail ride. Get as far away from all of this as possible.

An ache blooms in my chest.You’ll look like a family man.I try to rub the pain away, but it doesn’t fade. I’ll finally be the guyI wanted to be, except it’ll all be a sham. My future wife may not hate me, but she’s certainly not fond of me either. She wouldn’t be marrying me if she had another choice.

I lay my forehead against the steering wheel and take a few deep breaths. This may not be Willow’s–or my–first choice, but it’s the choice we’ve both made. And I’m going to make the most of it. Who knows, maybe by the end of the season my wife might actuallylikeme.

Chapter twelve

Willow Delmont

Everything is happening too fast. Not long after I told Jason yes over text, he sent me a message saying that Brock needed a photo of us. Something to announce our engagement. So instead of him driving me to dinner from the facility, he’s going to pick me up at my apartment so that I have time to get photo-ready.

It’s not just the photo I wanted to change for though. Jason told me we’re going to Gianmarco’s for dinner. It’s a quaint little Italian restaurant that’s reservation only. I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s amazing, and I don’t want to walk in wearing leggings.

As soon as I got home, I rushed through a shower and shaved my legs. Then I pulled out one of my favorite dresses–a little black number that emphasizes my waist–and a pair of flats to match. Since Jason is so tall, I know I won’t have to worry about looking taller than him, but my ankle is still too sore to wear heels. It’s nice to know I won’t have to worry about it in the future though. Maybe it’s superficial, but I’ve always wanted to be shorter than the man I marry.

Marry. I’m gettingmarried. I almost swipe the berry-toned lipstick I’m applying across my cheek at the thought. This is not how I expected this part of my life to go. I thought I’d meet a nice man, date for a while, bring him to meet Granny Mae. Once she approved, I’d video chat my parents. Everyone would love him–as would I. Then he’d propose to me under the big willow tree in Granny’s back yard that I was named after, the one my dad proposed to my mom under years ago. We’d have a small wedding and a long honeymoon. Buy a big farmhouse out in the country and fill it with animals and kids. I had it all figured out…minus the groom.

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