Page 19 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

When Ryan finally leaves, I collapse against my office door and wonder if I haven’t just made everything ten times worse.

7

Ryan

Of all the thingsI have ever had to do for my career, that was the most terrifying and embarrassing. Let’s be honest, it was always going to be a long shot. Even now, as I walk down the street, I still doubt that Emma’s going to say yes. I just humiliated myself on such a level that she felt sorry for me.

It was a bad idea from the start, and I should have just told Phil that when he suggested it. But then, he did paint a pretty dire picture.

“You want me to get married,” I blurted.

“Listen, kid,” Phil replied. “I don’t think you know how bad this really is.”

“No. I do. But as bad as it is, getting married to solve it is still ridiculous.”

“It wouldn’t be real, Ryan. You’ll get married, the media will get their story, you’ll fall out of the limelight, and then you and whoever you marry will quietly part ways. It’s just a publicity stunt.”

“Still,” I balked.

“Okay. Let me lay this down for you,” Phil said, sounding a little more frustrated. “There are already interviews being arranged with minority groups talking about racism in sports. You can guess who’s at the center of that discussion. You’ve got rallies being organized. You’ve got other sports celebrities jumping in and giving their opinion. You’ve even got your own team in the firing line. They’re being stopped in the street and asked how they feel about you. This has already exploded, Ryan. We need to do something to start putting out these fires.”

What Phil wasn’t directly saying was that my career was on the verge of being over, but I could read between the lines. I knew things were bad, but his direct approach had given me a punch in the gut.

After the call, I was angry and frustrated. Not at Phil. I knew he was only trying to help me out. He’s been my agent from the beginning, when no one else would touch me with a ten-foot pole because I was from money, and they thought I was a spoiled brat with no talent.

But after all the good I had done to get our team into the big leagues—not all by myself, of course—none of that mattered. None of my goals, or my great plays, or the fact that our team was in the best shape of its life, both physically and successfully, mattered. I’d made one mistake.

Okay, that’s not true. I’m known for being a bit of a bad boy, so, sure, I have a reputation. I’m usually out with a different woman every time the paparazzi get my photo. I party hard and make Phil work for his money, trying to manage the media’s twist on my life. But not ever, in my twenty-seven years on this planet, have I ever hated on someone because of the color of their skin.

Phil is now organizing interviews so I can tell my side of the story, but he says we need more. We need something so hugethat this ridiculous lie they’re perpetuating will fade and die, as it should.

When I got off the phone, I was too stunned to think, and for a while, I just sat there in a daze. About an hour later, my mind started wandering, and I actually considered the idea. Though who the heck would I get to pretend they were married to me?

They’d need to have the patience of a saint. They’d need to know how difficult I am. They’d also need to be on board with the fact that it wasn’t real, so no gold diggers—which crossed off my ex, Megan, straightaway.

Bizarrely, it was the ache in my knee that made me think of Emma. I actually laughed out loud (thankfully no one else was in the room to witness that) at the thought of asking her. I mean, she hates me, right?

She doesn’t hate you. She just thinks you’re a jerk. But she would be an ideal candidate.

The more I thought about it, the more I could see that. Emma is kind and loves helping people. She’s quiet but principled. On top of that, she values confidentiality. I mean, I’d been going to her for nearly a week, and not once, so far, had I heard any news in the town of that fact. Which is pretty impressive in a place as small as Maple Springs.

I was sure I’d been spotted going in or coming out of her clinic. I was also sure there were people who knew. But not from her.

And so, after a session with Emma, where my stomach was in so many knots that I could have been a sailboat, I eventually blurted it all out to her. I kind of expected her reaction. She hasn’t hidden how she feels about me as a person, right? And ordinarily, at her firm rejection, I would have just left.

But something came over me that I can’t explain. It was as though I felt I could bare my soul to her and just know she wouldn’t judge me. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I was so open and honest with anyone.

It wasn’t said to try and guilt her into making a decision. I think, in the moment, everything just got to be too much, and feeling the lowest I’ve felt for a long time, I just let it all out. And yet, somehow, my words had an effect. Which, I’ve realized, tells me far more about Emma Carter than I could ever have learned from any other approach.

Now, as I sit in the bar, waiting for Steve and John to arrive, I have a sliver of hope. It’s only a tiny ray, like the sun peeking through the clouds, but it’s all I’ve got.

Once the guys arrive and the beers are on the table, the two of them listen, their eyes growing wider and their jaws dropping further, as I tell them everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.

When it’s all said and done, I sit back and wait for their thoughts. I would say reactions, but their facial expressions are already telling me enough.

It takes a long minute and a few shared glances between my two buddies, but eventually, it’s Steve who speaks first.

“Before anything else, I just want to say how sorry I am about how things are working out for you, man. But I’m your friend, so I’ve got to be honest.” He looks straight at me. “Emma’s a really nice woman, but I think she was just trying to be kind.”

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