Page 32 of Home Run Fiancé
“Rhys Close? Are you Jake’s mystery woman?” A second guy behind another camera shouts the question at me. Four men block our path to Jake’s car and I’m not moving anyway, too shocked by them knowing my name to flee. It’s the first time my name has been linked to Jake’s and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Part of me wants to run and hide and go back to my quiet little life where I was forging a path for myself. The other part of me knows I signed up to help Jake with his situation. The honorable part of me wins out. I’d do anything to help Jake get what he wants.
I flash a smile and hope my makeup didn’t get smeared while eating breakfast. “Why, yes. I’m Rhys. Lovely to meet you all.” I spin toward Jake, moving closer so our bodies are pressed together in an obvious couple way. “And this is Jake Kersh.” I toss my hair back over my shoulder and laugh. “But I’m sure you know that already, right?”
The guys all laugh and start lobbing more questions at me, probably elated to be the first to get confirmation of Jake’s fiancée’s identity.
“Are you a student?”
“How did you two meet?”
Jake stays stock-still beside me, something I register in the back of my brain, but can’t figure out why. I toss it aside to focus on my first interaction with the paparazzi. “Iwasa student, but I’ve taken some time off to work on my business instead.” I quickly change the subject. “And we met through my brother actually. Asher Close is Jake’s agent.”
All four of them press in closer and continue to ask questions, some of which are so invasive I’m starting to get a little uneasy. Another car swings into the lot and a camera guy jumps out and runs over to join the group.
Jake must have finally had enough. He pushes the guy on the left out of the way and tugs me after him, intent on getting to his car.
“What’s your business, Rhys?” the first guy asks at my retreating back.
I pull my hand from Jake’s and stop, rummaging through my handbag to finally find my business cards. The ones I designed and printed myself when I quit school and went full time with my vlog at the urging of Charlotte.
With a huge smile plastered to my face I hand a business card to each one, telling them to look me up.
“Rhys. Let’s go.” Jake’s gruff voice cuts me off. Then he grabs my elbow and tows me to the car, nearly pushing me into the passenger seat before slamming the door and cutting off the paparazzi still throwing questions at me.
Jake gets in and fires up the car, backing up a bit too quickly for my comfort with people hanging around the car.
I drag my gaze off of the cameras and see his jaw clenched tight. “You okay?” My hands shake in the aftermath of that onslaught, but he looks even worse. The tips of his ears are red, but the rest of him looks pale beneath his deep tan.
“Just great.” He sounds short, like he can’t be bothered to answer fully, which isn’t like him. Well, it’s exactly like the guy I first met at Asher’s house, but not at all like the Jake I’ve come to know these past few weeks.
“Okay…” I’m not sure what to do, so I think back to everything I said to those guys with the cameras, rewinding and going through every detail while Jake drives us to Asher’s office. Jake remains silent, just the continued flex of his forearm muscle trying to break the steering wheel like Hulk to keep me company while I reflect. The silence stretches out and takes on an ominous tone.
When Asher’s office building comes into view, I know I have just a precious few seconds to try to make things right before Jake goes off to his game.
“Did I say something wrong back there?” My voice comes out just above a whisper, the wind taken out of my sails and out of my windpipe.
He still doesn’t look at me, just clenches down harder on his molars, his eyes focused on something out the front of the windshield. He finally parks along the curb, just a few doors down from Asher’s office. My stomach is tied in knots, having everything to do with Jake and not at all about spilling my guts to Asher.
Jake finally rotates his head and looks at me. His eyes hold no warmth, no recognition beyond the surface.
“Everything’s fine. Go break the news to Asher and we’ll talk after my game.”
I want to believe him. I want to hang on his words and release all my anxiety with a big exhale, but deep down, I know everything is far from fine. I said or did something that has changed his opinion of me in some way so fundamental that he can no longer be open and honest with me, nor barely look at me for longer than a few seconds.
It hurts.
I thought we were on a good path there at the restaurant. Possibly on a path to a real relationship, beyond trades and contracts and lies. But maybe fate doesn’t bless relationships started on quicksand. Maybe girls who would stand in front of the public and lie for a paycheck fall for other lies too. Like the ones Jake spins with his cinnamon eyes and lips that ration out smiles like I’m the lucky one to have been on the receiving end.
My crumbling heart pulses feebly in my chest and I know I’m defeated. There will be time to lick my wounds later, in private. Now, I have to face my brother and come clean. Maybe he’ll forgive me and resume his spot as “my person.” Or maybe I’ll finally get my wish and have to stand on my own two feet for once.
Exiting the car, I don’t bother to lean in and kiss Jake like I normally would. Instead, I go to slam the door behind me, but stop at the last second and duck my head back in.
“When you’re ready to discuss whatever’s bothering you, you know where to find me.”
He doesn’t look at me, just narrows his eyes and I know he’s heard me. I should just walk away with my head held high, knowing I’ve done nothing to deserve his treatment, but I just can’t. I have to crack that door open. Have to make sure he knows I want to talk things out. Make things right.
This can’t be over.
We’re still engaged.
