“Okay, I’m going to find my husband.” Rix passes me my margarita. “Don’t say stupid things, Flip.”
I sip my drink. “Brody has a thing for a girl he went to high school with that he doesn’t have the balls to ask out, and I’ve had a thing for you for probably the same amount of time,” I inform Flip.
“So that’s a no?” He looks relieved.
I narrow my eyes. “Were you jealous for a second?”
“No.” He pokes at his lip. “Okay, yeah.”
I grin.
“If you weren’t already aware, I’m unapologetically obsessed with you.” He kisses my cheek. “Let’s go get our picture taken under the arch.”
I’m not the only person who wants a photo with Flip under the balloon arch. Rix and I spend a good half hour arranging our men while the young players pose next to them. Brody has a few fans and is adorably red-faced through most of the photos.
Cocktail hour is blissfully hiccup and awkwardness free. Themedia covering the event aren’t jerks, and no one else mistakes me for Brody’s date. And dinner is fun and easy since I’m surrounded by people I know. All the things I worried about seem silly when I’m insulated by my friends.
After dinner, Flip, Tristan, Quinn, and Brody move to the stage to present awards. Rix leaves because she has to be at the kitchen early to interview assistants, so that leaves me at the table on my own since Lovey, Quinn’s date, is helping with the awards backstage.
Two women in their early twenties set up the dessert table behind me.
“What I wouldn’t give to be her,” one whispers.
“I know, right?” The other whistles softly. “That man has skills.”
They both giggle.
I bite the inside of my cheek, frustrated that my relationship is once again reduced to entertainment. People are focused on a narrative that has no basis in the present.
No one but Flip and I know the truth, I remind myself.
It should be a comfort, but all it does is make me feel alone.
CHAPTER 33
TALLY
“Ican’t wait to be outside,” I say to Cammie as I push through the doors of the lecture theater, following the hoard of students toward the exit. It’s been a week and a half since Flip flew me out to the game, and three days since the gala. I’d like to say things have calmed down, but that would be a lie.
I’m working hard to block out the whispers from a group of girls as we pass.
“…Flip Madden’s girlfriend…”
“…have you seen the pictures…”
“…do you think Romero…”
“Rumors are the gateway to stupidity and opinionless drones,” Cammie shouts cheerfully before turning to me. “I vote we find a patch of sun and hang out like lazy cats.”
“As long as that patch of sun does not include people churning the gossip mill, I’m game.”
Hemi had hoped my appearance at the special needs hockey gala on Friday would replace some of the nonsense, but it went completely under the radar. Probably because it had nothing to do with Flip Madden’s sex life.
I pull out my phone and send Fee a message that we’re on our way. She replies with a selfie at one of the outdoor tables at the campus café. We’re having a warm early-March blip. The temperature is in the mid-teens, which means guys are wearing shorts and T-shirts, and half the girls on campus are in tanks despite there still being snow on the ground. March is a weird month in Ontario.
I show Cammie my phone. “Looks like Fee’s already on it.”
I tip my face up as we leave the building, welcoming the warmth of the sun on my skin. But my joy is short-lived.
