"Smile," he murmured. "Look tired but happy. We're a couple who just got outed and want privacy."
She managed it somehow, leaning into him slightly as they got into the car. The door closed, shutting out the chaos, and they were alone in the backseat.
"That was..." Libby trailed off, unable to find the right word.
"A disaster," Liam supplied. "Though a manageable one, thanks to your quick thinking."
"My quick thinking? I just agreed to lie to everyone I know."
"You agreed to a solution that protects your career and minimizes distraction during my playoff run." His expression was unreadable in the passing streetlights. "Most people would have panicked or made it worse."
"But what do you get out of it? Your career isn't threatened by this."
"No," he agreed. "But Kate would use this to create maximum chaos during the most important games of the season. She'd feed stories to the media, create distractions, turn it into a circus." He paused. "And despite what you might think, I don't believe you should lose your career because Kate has decided you're in Anne's way."
They rode in silence for a moment before Liam spoke again. "We should establish ground rules. For the... arrangement."
"Such as?"
"Communication protocols. Public appearance guidelines. How we handle questions from friends and family." He paused. "I assume Jane knows the truth?"
"She was there. She knows."
"Good. You'll need someone you can be honest with. This kind of performance can be... isolating."
Something in his tone made her look at him more closely. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."
"Not with fake relationships," he said. "But I've been performing for the public my entire life. The D'Arcy name comes with expectations."
The car pulled up to her building. Liam got out first, offering his hand to help her out—a gesture that would look gentlemanly to any watching eyes but felt surprisingly natural.
"I'll walk you up," he said. It wasn't a question.
"That's not necessary?—"
"You've been drinking, Kate just threatened your career, and you're wearing my jacket which makes you a target for anyone looking to cause trouble." He paused. "I'm not leaving you vulnerable in a stairwell at midnight."
"I can take care of myself?—"
"I know you can. But tonight's been enough of a disaster without taking unnecessary risks." His tone softened slightly. "Let me make sure you get inside safely. Please."
They walked up to her apartment in silence, Libby hyperaware of his presence beside her. At her door, she fumbled with her keys, the evening's events catching up with her.
"Thank you," she said. "For the jacket, the donation, the... solution. Even if it's insane."
"We're protecting each other's interests," Liam said pragmatically. "It's mutually beneficial."
As she opened her door, he added, "The PR team will send you talking points for tomorrow. Keep it simple. The less we say, the less we have to remember."
"Right. Simple." She laughed, slightly hysterical. "Pretending to date Boston's hockey prince. What could be simpler?"
That almost-smile appeared again. "Goodnight, Libby."
It was the first time he'd said her name. The way it sounded in his voice—careful, deliberate, like he was trying it out—made something flutter in her chest.
After he left, Libby closed the door and leaned against it, still wearing his tuxedo jacket. The apartment felt too quiet after the evening's chaos.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Clara:
