My heart beats unsteadily, like a top doing its final rotations.
Finn wraps his arm around my waist. “I’ll be right next to you.”
And even though I know that Finn is as out of his depth as me, his words must relax me, for my shoulders ease.
Daniela ushers us upstairs, and we enter a bedroom.
Everything is baby pink, which is why it’s one of the unused bedrooms, but the place emanates expense. The room technically has a bed, but it also has a sofa and four armchairs. The ceiling is high, the crown molding spectacular.
I want to tell Finn how amazing his parents’ place is, but then I notice a man holding a pad of paper. Maybe emphasizing how different our positions are is notthe way to go.
God, I shouldn’t be in Finn’s circles. I certainly shouldn’t be his husband.
“I’ll fetch your first interviewer,” Daniela says with a smile she wouldn’t be making if she knew our entire marriage was a lie and that if we say the wrong thing, everything will be exposed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Finn
I guide Noah to the pink couch and plop down beside him. We’ve got this. Maybe I panicked earlier, but Daniela is right. We’ll smash these interviews. Team management will be happy, and we’ll have the blissful satisfaction of those who’ve gone through their checklists early.
So what if Noah and I have to pretend to be madly in love in front of unfriendly strangers with the ability to broadcast any faux-pas to a degree that would make your average mean girl steam with jealousy?
The door opens, and Rex Manley from Sports Showcase saunters in.
Shit.
I mean, we’ve got this. Totally. I’m not nervous. No way. Not me.
His lips contort into a smirk, and his eyes dance. He settles into an armchair, also pink, then places his pad of paper onto his lap. His pants stretch around once-muscular thighs—I’ve seen videos of his old games.
Rex knows sports. He’s been following me for years.
“I never thought we would be having this conversation,” Rex says. “Maybe the vlogs should have given me a clue.”
I clear my throat, unsure what to make about his comment. “Rex, this is my husband, Noah. Noah, this is Rex Manley.”
“You don’t need to make introductions. We’re not friends.”
“I’m being polite,” I mutter.
“That won’t score you extra points.”
I press my lips together. Is Rex trying to irritate me? Did he take a course on how to be a hard-hitting journalist? Or did we lose our earlier camaraderie when he found out I’m married to a man?
Rex is an ex-hockey player and decent enough at writing or at least frowning into the camera and speaking in solemn tones to earn him a spot on Sports Showcase.
He’s also about twenty years older than anyone on my team.
“Noah, how do you like being part of the NHL?” Rex asks.
I frown. That’s not a question I can answer. I want to do the talking here, at least on our first interview, so Noah can see how it’s done.
I’ve given interviews before. Noah hasn’t.
“I’m grateful for the opportunity,” Noah says.
“You had quite the spill on your first appearance. I was certain that was the end of seeing you.”
