“Apparently, Beau’s dad summoned him.”
Her eyes narrow. “Are you kidding me? That asshat is bailing on you? Completely unacceptable. Unless someone is in the hospital or a coffin. Are they?”
I try to swallow down the emptiness. “Doesn’t sound like it.”
She opens her mouth like she’s about to go into full rage mode, then closes it, eyes softening. “I’m sorry, Luna. You deserve better than that.”
There’s a knock at the door.
“Showtime,” I mutter.
And then I paste on a smile. The one that’s part armor, part instinct. The one I’ve been perfecting since the day I figured out how to be palatable on camera.
I open the door. JJ is standing there.
“Hey, Lightning fam,” JJ says when I open the door, voice softer than usual. He’s got a backpack slung over one shoulder, a six-pack of sparkling water in the other. His unruly hair is slicked back off his forehead in a swoosh. It’s almost as if he’s mimicking Beau’s style, but he went overboard on the gel. But his head dips lower than usual. A little subdued. Like he knows exactly what’s going on. He knows he’s not the one I was waiting for.
“Nice entrance,” I manage, smiling because I have to. Because the ring light’s already warming up in the corner. The entire team is probably watching, and I can’t afford to fall apart on camera.
“Where’s your tux?” I ask, trying to summon banter when all I want to do is scream into a pillow.
“Left it in the Lambo,” he says, stepping inside. He’s unable to resist the joke, but he doesn’t breeze past me like he usually would. There’s a brief moment, barely a second, where he hesitates in the doorway, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll stop him. If I’ll say it’s too much, or that I’m not up for this. I don’t have the luxury of quitting or wallowing in my pain. There are too many people counting on me.
Maisie leans against the fridge, one socked foot tucked behind the other, brows knit with concern. “You okay?”
No, I’m not okay.
I smiled through a black-tie gala while Beau’s father looked at me like I should be carrying a tray full of hors d’oeuvres, not dancing with his son. Like I wasn’t worth the time or the breath it would take to remember my name. But I did it for him. And now he’s bailing on me when I need him. For his asshole of a father. Clearly, he’s got his priorities in order, and I’m not one of them.
And now I’m here. Dressed, mic’d, lit. Waiting for thousands of fans, followers, donors, and sponsors to log on expecting a picture-perfect power couple and getting... this. Damage control with a side of emotional freefall.
“I’m fine,” I say, voice tight. “It’s not a big deal.”
JJ sets the drinks on the counter. Doesn’t respond right away. And that silence, from him is unexpected but appreciated. I kind of knew there was a good guy buried under all that chaos.
When he finally speaks, it’s low and careful. Much more unsettling than if he were his usual boisterous self. “I know I’m not the guy you were planning to go live with tonight.”
My eyes sting. I blink hard and look away, jaw tightening.
“But I showed up,” he continues. “And I’ll do whatever you need me to. Be ridiculous, be charming, hold the ring light, lie to the internet. I got your back.”
That breaks something loose in my chest. He’s not Beau. Smooth and polished on the outside, but hiding depths of emotion and anxiety beneath the surface.
But JJ showed up. That counts for something.
I clear my throat. “You still want to know your good side?”
JJ lifts a shoulder. “All of ‘em are equally chaotic. It’s part of the brand.”
My smile is genuine this time, small and shaky but present. “That’s why you bring the sparkle.”
He bumps my shoulder with his, light but steady. “Damn right.”
The room shifts around me, the tripod, mic, and props I set up earlier to give a sneak peek of the calendar. Everything is positioned to catch the good angles, none of which includes my heart. I’ll have to keep that locked away to hide the pain. Nobody wants to see that. That’s not what social media is for.
I swipe a layer of lip gloss over my mouth, blinking at my reflection in the camera preview. I look good. Cheerful. Lit. Like someone who didn’t just get abandoned by the guy she thought was different. Typical. I should have known better.
The idea had been simple: a chill behind-the-scenes stream with the two captains. We were going to banter about training, the calendar, and the big finale we’ve got planned to snag the donor once and for all. A brief mention to confirm we’re dating, then moving on to the outdoor charity scrimmage we’re working on next. This was going to be the big surprise for everyone tonight. Serving the dual purposes of building excitement and deflecting some of the attention off Beau and me and our couple status. Because that is not the thing I want the focus on. That’s not what my brand is about.
