Page 41 of Chasing After You
“Je vais bien.”15
It’s not very believable, though. I’m not selling it well, but I only have so many lies in me.
Mom’s mouth turns downward into a frown, and she shakes her head, refusing to accept my answer.“Tu peux me parler, tu le sais, n’est-ce pas?”16
I scope out the field, looking to see if there’s anyone who might overhear us. Fortunately, Sebastian and Thalia are with the Panthers’ General Manager and a few other veterans on the team that Bash played with. My dad is with Owen and his wife, Blake.
“Ils sont tous tellement en colère contre moi. Qu’est-ce que je peux faire pour arranger ça?”17 I ask, trying not to let her see how badly hurt I am by all of this.
She taps my chest comfortingly above my heart. “The heart wants what it wants, Henry. Everyone else will understand that eventually. Bash and Lia are more hurt than angry. They wished you would have gone to them first about the relationship rather than letting them find out through a press release, but that doesn’t mean you deserve the things they said.”
I note how she doesn’t say anything about the fight I had with my dad. I don’t doubt she knows about it.
“And Dad?”
Her bright eyes sharpen and she musters a smile. “You let me handle him. He’s hardheaded, but he’ll come around.”
“I need you to believe me when I say nothing ever happened between Mirabelle and me until the Super Bowl after-party. What Sebastian and Dad accused me of? It makes me sick to my stomach because all I can think is how I would murder someone with my bare hands if Kaitlyn were dating someone while she was a minor and they weren’t.” I exhale, shaking my head as my stomach rolls at the thought of anything happening between us when Mira was a minor. “If that’s what they want to think of me, then they clearly don’t know who I am, and maybe they don’t deserve to. I would never force myself on anyone, especially if they were underage,” I insist, miserable that I even have to say this. I love my dad, but this hurts.
“Je sais. Il sait. Je suis désolée, Henry.”18
“You’re not the one who needs to be apologizing,” I say, stepping out of reach. I hate the pained look that appears on her face, but I don’t want an apology from my stepmom. “I probably need to find Mirabelle. She did an incredible job planning today.”
“She did,” Mom agrees, her bright eyes shining. “If you’ll let me, I’d love to take the two of you to dinner soon. You make a beautiful couple.”
A lump grows in my throat, and I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to try to keep tears from forming in my eyes. Mom has no idea it’s fake, but she’s willing to go against everyone else to support me and the relationship she believes I’m in.
“I’d like that, Mom.”
“I love you, have fun with your girlfriend.” She winks, absolutely beaming. It dawns on me that maybe I don’t call her as much as I should.
“I love you too,” I say, making my way back to Mirabelle who is now speaking with a reporter. His eyes meet mine over her shoulder, and I wink quickly at him, holding a finger to my lips to tell him to be quiet. I’ve probably stunned him into silence more than anything, because I normally don’t act this way with the media.
“—nd it’s wonderful that the Panthers Organization is working with both of these incredible causes,” Mirabelle says, the smell of vanilla invading my senses as I hover behind her. It crosses my mind as I’m sliding my arms around her waist to wrap them around her torso that she could easily react in a manner that results in me getting seriously injured.
She yelps, jamming an elbow into my side, causing me to grunt in pain at the well-placed jab. I’m not even mad about it because I’m impressed that was her first reaction. Mirabelle’s head turns quickly, her whiskey-colored eyes wide with shock. “Henry!”
“What?”
“You can’t sneak up on me like that,” she protests, and I chuckle quietly.
“Sorry,” I say, fighting a grin, but I’m in fact, not sorry at all. She’s cute when she’s mad.
Mirabelle purses her lips at me, turning around to look at the reporter again, who is smiling after watching the whole exchange. My hand is still slung around her waist, and I tug her back against my chest, sliding my hand into the front pocket of her overalls. I can feel the heat of her body radiating through the fabric, but I’m more focused on how stiff her whole body goes as she’s pressed against me.
“Relax,” I murmur next to her ear, the intoxicating aroma of vanilla threatening to overwhelm me. How am I supposed to think straight around her?“Mon cœur,”19 I say loud enough for the reporter to hear, brushing my lips teasingly over her cheek, playing the part we’ve agreed to.
Mirabelle softens underneath my touch, relaxing into me. “Henry, this is Dave. He’s a reporter with the Charlotte Observer.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for coming out today.” I offer my free hand to Dave, refusing to remove the one from inside Mirabelle’s pocket. I don’t care what he thinks. I’ve been waiting all day to be near her.
“I wouldn’t miss it. I was asking Mirabelle a few questions, but do you mind if I ask you some as well?” he asks, and if it means I get to be by Mirabelle, he can ask me anything he wants. Just because he’s asking doesn’t mean I have to answer, but I do get to stand here holding her.
“That’s fine,” I agree. Whatever he asks me surely can’t be more invasive than Stacey’s lines of questioning.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asks, diving right in, quickly pressing a button on his phone to no doubt record the conversation. I can’t blame him, I’m not known for my patience with interviews. I’m trying to be better about it for a couple of reasons: I don’t want to get traded, and I don’t want to make Mirabelle’s job more difficult than it needs to be, especially after seeing how hard she’s working to help me. The only reason we’re in this fake relationship is because of my shitty reputation.
“More than ready. We’ve got a great group of guys on the team this season, and our coaching staff has been going above and beyond to make sure we’re ready. I’m excited for everyone to see our hard work pay off tomorrow.”
