No. Nope. Champagne. Lighting. Chaos. All of it.
It’s just physical. That’s all. Lucas is objectively attractive in the most annoying way possible, all angles and confidence and that stupid knowing smirk. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t even like him. I can barely tolerate him. So what if he smells like woodsy cologne and expensive decisions? So what if he has forearms that could break the internet?
It doesn’t mean I want him.
“I mean, can you believe this happened?” I mumble into my hands. “Me? Married? To Lucas Carmichael, of allpeople? The guy whose entire job is spinning stories I’m trying to uncover?”
Blair studies me for a moment, clearly not buying it. “You know, you mention him an awful lot for someone you supposedly can’t stand.”
“Because he’s constantly in my way!” I protest, perhaps too quickly. “Every time I’m working on a story about Wonderland, there he is with his perfect jawline and his media training, deflecting my questions and protecting the studio machine.”
“Mm-hmm. His perfect jawline. Terrible.”
I throw a pen at her, which she dodges effortlessly. “Stop it. This is serious. I’m meeting my attorney in two hours to figure out how to end this nightmare.”
“How’s your family taking the news? I assume Austin is thrilled that his former teammate is now his brother-in-law.”
I roll my eyes. “Everyone’s thrilled. Dad’s so excited he’s already planning a post-wedding reception at the stadium, never mind that he’s never actually met Lucas—at least, as my boyfriend—and I’ve spent the last year telling him I’m not dating anyone.”
“Your dad loves you.”
“I know. He just wants me to be happy, and in his mind, marriage equals happiness.” I sigh. “My older brother, Garrett, sent me this congratulatory text that somehow still managed to convey his judgment about my ‘life choices.’ As if choosing not to join the family business wasn’t bad enough, now I’ve gone and married someone on a whim.”
“And Austin?”
“Way too happy. Called me yesterday, going on abouthow great it is that his teammate and his sister finally ‘stopped dancing around each other’ and how he’s looking forward to having a friend at family holidays.” I twist a strand of hair around my finger. “He did say he’s going to kick Lucas’s ass for hitting on his sister without his blessing, though.”
Blair laughs. “At least that’s appropriately brotherly.”
“The point is,” I continue, “everyone thinks this is some grand romance that’s been brewing for years. My father, who usually spends his time worrying about bullpen stats, has suddenly taken an interest in my love life. It’s…weird.”
“So, what’s the plan? Besides the annulment.”
I straighten, shifting into problem-solving mode. “I’m meeting with my attorney at four. We’ll file an annulment, issue a joint statement explaining that it was a mutual error in judgment, emphasize our continued professional respect for each other, and politely request privacy as we move forward.”
“Very PR. Lucas would be proud.”
I shoot her a glare.
“And the documentary?” Blair asks. “Dylan’s been promoting it nonstop.”
“We’ll have to back out. Pay a penalty if necessary. I can’t be followed around by cameras while pretending to be in love with Lucas Carmichael.”
“Why not? You’re both good actors—apparently good enough to convince an entire Vegas bar you’ve been together for six months.”
“Because I’m a journalist, Blair. My credibility is everything. How can I maintain objectivity if I’m playing house with the head of communications at a major studio?”
Blair shrugs. “People have managed worse conflicts of interest in this town.”
“Not me.” I stand, gathering my notes and laptop. “I’ve worked too hard to be taken seriously. I’m not going to throw it away for some ridiculous reality show spectacle.”
“Where are you meeting the attorney?”
“Wexler’s office on Sunset. Lucas is meeting me there.” I check my watch. “I’ve got a couple of things to knock out first, so I should get moving.”
“Call me right after,” Blair says, standing to give me a quick hug.
Lucas is waiting outside the building when I arrive, leaning against a concrete pillar in his signature navy blazer over a crisp white shirt, dark jeans, and those designer sneakers he’s so precious about. His hair is impeccably styled, and sunglasses hide his eyes, the very picture of California professional casual. My heart does an annoying little skip that I immediately attribute to anxiety about the meeting.
