Page 71 of Faking it with the Billionaire
Ava is genuinely smiling and happy about letting us be front and center for the photo. “Oh, please. It’ll make good press for the team, and that’s one thing you should know about us. We’re sisters. We protect each other and look out for our families. We’re not competitive with each other, ever. There’s enough of that on the ice amongst the other teams.”
“Good to know,” I say, exhaling a laugh. I want to relax, but being wrapped in Kyler’s arms just makes the butterflies take flight.
“Hi, Emmie,” Bristol chimes from around the opposite side of the table. I didn’t see her, with Kyler stealing away my attention. She’s wearing her Ice Dragons jersey, but instead of it reading Greyson on the back, it reads Daddy. She leans on the table and rests her hands on her chin with a wicked grin. “Daddy says you’ve been faking it with him.”
I cough, shocked by the words coming out of Bristol’s lips.
Can the ground swallow me up and bury me?
I am not ready to deal with Bristol and her sassy little comments. And does she even know what she said or what that sounds like?
She’s six. Of course, she doesn’t know whatfaking itmeans. But every hockey wife is staring at me, mouth agape, eyes wide.
And I just want to die.
Kyler peels his arms off me and climbs over the table, not bothering to walk around to the opposite side.
“I haven’t been faking anything,” I say to the ladies. Forcing a smile, the only relief I find is that the reporter isn’t still here because, heaven help me, Kyler’s image would probably be ruined.
I don’t even know how to respond to Bristol’s little outburst. Does she think what she said is funny? Did someone put her up to it? Who?
Kyler grabs Bristol and tickles her mercilessly, returning the sentiment of torture that we’re both enduring because of her words.
“Daddy, no!” she squeals with laughter and squirms in his grasp.
The hockey wives don’t seem phased by the endless tickles to Bristol, only with the words that spilled past the kid’s lips.
“Don’t worry,” Ava says, smiling, and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. “What I said still stands. We don’t gossip about each other. Once you’re invited to the wives’ room, you’re one of us for life.”
But I haven’t gottenthatinvitation yet. I’ve only been invited to the hockey wives hosting a food drive, not the main event.
Kate chuckles under her breath. “Like we all haven’t faked it before meeting our husbands?” She chews her bottom lip and wrinkles her nose. “Please tell me that he’s brought you to O—”
“Oh, please stop,” I say, wanting this conversation to end. I appreciate that they’re trying to be friendly, but they’re not helping. At least Kate isn’t. If she’s trying to offer pointers or something, maybe let’s not do it during the food drive when there are guests walking up to the table to take boxes back to their car.
Kyler finally releases Bristol from his clutches, putting her feet back down on the ground. “No more embarrassing me. Got it?” he says to his kid.
She sticks out her tongue. “Daddy, you didn’t answer my question at the ice arena. That was payback.”
He’s raised an adorable little monster, and if this weren’t all part of the job, I’d laugh it off. But no one can find out that our engagement is as fake as our relationship.
We finish up at the food drive, and Ava pulls me aside as Kyler and Bristol head to the car. Mitchell is waiting for us.
“The next game you attend, you’re joining us in the wives’ room,” Ava says.
“Wow, thank you.” I wasn’t expecting the invitation today. I thought that maybe the ladies would discuss it at the next game or social event when they got together. “I would love that.”
“Bring Bristol with you. There’s a playroom for the kids during intermission and a bathroom. We heard about what happened during the last game.” Ava chuckles and embraces me in a hug. “And don’t worry about Greyson and having to fake it. We’ll talk next time when he’s not around. Get to the bottom of it.”
“I promise our sex life is perfect,” I say. Well, I imagine it would be with him. It’s not like we’ve actually done the deed yet.
“It’s okay if it’s not. You don’t have to lie. And I promise, we’ll keep it between us girls.” She releases her hold on me and waves before heading to her awaiting vehicle. None of the ladies drove themselves. They all have chauffeurs escorting them to the event.
“But I didn’t lie,” I mutter to myself.
I head for the vehicle, and Greyson steps out, letting me climb into the middle seat beside his daughter. “She’s testing my patience,” he grumbles under his breath.
“And that’s a first?” I slide into the backseat and try to buffer some of the tension between father and daughter.
