Page 130 of Playing for Keeps
“No, it can’t,” Cleo cuts in, and I glance over just in time to see her brush past him into the apartment like she owns the place. Ronnie offers a quick, apologetic look before following her inside.
Ronnie and I haven’t had a proper introduction, unless you count the time I made a complete fool of myself by assuming she was sleeping with Wyatt. We’ve messaged a bit this week while she sorted out a stadium ticket for me, and she came across as kind and easy to talk to. So, when she offers me a sad, almost apologetic smile, my stomach twists. Whatever brought them here tonight... it’s not good.
Wyatt steps beside me, slipping his hand in mine.
“Baby, you remember Cleo and Ronnie?”
I nod, like I could possibly forget. Cleo practically radiates disapproval every time I’m in the room.
“So,” Wyatt says, his tone a little clipped, “what do you need to talk about? Can we keep it quick? I’ve got plans with Ivy.”
“We should talk in private,” Cleo says pointedly.
Wyatt glances down at me, a frown tugging at his features. “No. Whatever it is, Ivy can hear it. I’d just end up telling her after you leave anyway.”
Ronnie shifts awkwardly, her voice softer. “It might be better if it were just the three of us, Wyatt.”
My stomach churns. Cleo wanting me out of the room is no surprise, but Ronnie?
“I’ll go to the bedroom,” I say, giving Wyatt’s hand a small squeeze.
I start to step away, but he holds me in place.
“No,” he says firmly. “Stay.” He turns back to Cleo and Ronnie, his expression hardening slightly. “Whatever this is, just say it.”
Cleo exhales sharply. “Fine. But don’t say we didn’t try to warn you.” She pauses for effect, then adds, “A woman showed up at my office today... claiming to be your wife.”
My eyes snap wide. Hiswhat?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Wyatt
Ihear Cleo’s words, but they don’t sink in. A laugh slips out of me. “Mywhat? That’s insane.”
I glance between Cleo and Ronnie, expecting them to crack a smile, maybe admit it’s some kind of joke. But they stay silent, their expressions deadly serious.
“We thought the same at first,” Ronnie says. “But... she had a marriage certificate. Said you got married in Vegas in December last year.”
I shake my head, frowning. “You can’t actually believe her. It’s probably just some unhinged fan. I think I’d remember getting married.”
“She had all the paperwork, Wyatt,” Ronnie adds, quiet but steady. “Real documents. Cleo did a background check–”
“I pulled the records from the Nevada clerk’s office,” Cleo confirms. “It’s filed. Legally binding.”
This has to be some kind of scam. A forgery. Identity theft. Something. Anything but real. I feel Ivy shift beside me, and my chest tightens, but I can’t bring myself to look at her yet.
“There’s more,” Cleo continues. “She’s giving you a choice. Pay her off, or the story goes live. Tomorrow morning. She’s already tipped off the press.”
I finally glance at Ivy. Her face is pale, her eyes searching mine like she’s trying to piece together who I really am. And itkillsme.
“Were you in Vegas last December?” Ronnie asks.
I pause for a minute, trying to think while my head spins. “Yes, for my brother’s wedding.”
“Okay,” Cleo says. “Did you hook up with anyone?”
Ivy drops my hand and walks into the kitchen. I shoot Cleo a look and follow Ivy.
