Page 26 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

I shake my head. “That’s not what I meant. Let me start again. What I mean is, you’re an upstanding member of the community here. You’re educated, smart, beautiful, and you take the initiative.” I nod to the contract. “You’re someone who’s going to be able to handle what’s going to get thrown at you. Does that make sense?”

She’s looking at me with an expression I can’t fathom. I don’t know whether it’s suspicion, doubt, or confusion. But her eyebrows are high on her forehead, and I’ll be honest, I’m not that great at reading people.

“Did I say something to offend you?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Oh. Good.”

“What about the people in Maple Springs?” she asks.

“What about them?”

“Well,” she says, standing and moving back to her desk to place the contract down, “do we tell them the truth?”

“No,” I say firmly. “No one can know.”

“No one?” she repeats.

By her tone, I figure she’s told someone, and I can guess who. “Sharon?” I say, nodding in the direction of the reception area.

“Yes,” she replies. “I needed to make sure I was—”

“It’s fine,” I say, lifting a hand. “You don’t need to explain it to me. In fact, I totally get it. Putting all the cards on the table, Johnand Steve know, too. This wasn’t just weird for you, I promise you.”

The corner of her mouth lifts into a smile.

“So, what happens now?” Emma says.

“I need to call my agent and find out,” I reply.

“In the meantime,” she gestures to the bed, “maybe we should get your session started.”

But this session is not like any other previous session because Emma doesn’t stop asking questions about how things are going to be. Where are we going to live? How is that going to work? What are the press interviews going to be like? Does she need to be worried about the questions they are going to ask? And on and on she goes.

I was falsely arrested quite a few years back, and I swear, compared to Emma’s interrogation, my time in the police station was a walk in the park.

Answering what I can, I defer the rest, telling her that we will sit down with Phil and go through this whole arrangement properly.

“This is new to both of us,” I say when the session comes to an end, “and believe me, I have some questions, too.”

“But it’s not the same for you, Ryan,” Emma counters. “I’m entering your world. Not the other way around. You’ve been doing this for a long time and are used to it. I’ve never been in front of a camera in my life.”

“Not even for high school photos?” I jest.

She gives me a look that tells me she does not find me amusing at all and then says, “You know what I mean.”

“I’m going to call Phil and arrange a meeting. I’ll call you and let you know.”

“Alright,” she says.

And then I realize something. “I don’t have your number.”

“Right.” Moving over to her desk, she takes a business card and scribbles her number down before handing it to me. “There you go. Now you have all my numbers.”

Once I’m out in the street, I can’t help myself. I text the guys and tell them the news. My first call should really be to Phil, but Steve and John are more important right now. I don’t hear anything back from Steve, but John must have had his phone handy because he texts me back straight away.

No way!

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