“Maybe I don’t plan on being her ex,” I sneer.
Ian lifts his brows. “Maybe you should tell Mom that.”
“Okay, mama’s boy.” I shake my head. “I just turned thirty, and you’re like a hundred. I don’t think we have to tell her everything.”
“I just respect her enough to mention certain things.”
I swing open the door to the shed and begin rummaging through, not willing to argue that his notion of sharing our personal lives with anyone has nothing to do with respect as much as it does with approval. It’s been years since he’s handed me a beating, and I’m not sure if he could anymore, but wrestling across our mom’s suburban backyard isn’t on my agenda today.
“What’d Jason say?” Ian asks, taking the hedge trimmer from me.
“Haven’t talked to him yet,” I say, grabbing Ian a pair of work gloves.
“Didn’t tell momoryour manager? That’s a dangerous game.”
I ignore him, diving deeper into the mildew-stenched shack.
“At least if you drop dead tonight, we have a short list of who's at fault.” His chuckle booms, needling under my sunburned skin.
I give him a sarcastic laugh. “I told you. It’s new. Haven't had time to call anyone yet.”
He straightens up and turns toward me. “Funny, coming from the guy who is constantly glued to his phone, texting the flavor of the week. Maybe you and Lena are a good match. At least you both have a similar track record.”
Before I register what I’m doing, I give him a dead arm and run toward the house. For a split second, we’re middle schoolers again, fighting in the yard over which one of us broke the rules to a dumb game. It’s freeing to remember, and part of me wishes I could go back. Even if money was tight, I didn’t care. I had no image I felt pressured to uphold. Things were simpler then. I didn’t have to worry about my appearance, or enraging the internet, or pretending to date some girl to help my finances after my inevitable retirement and my dog shelter aspirations.
Lena.It’s shocking she’s willing to pretend at all. It’s not like she needs to. She could get anyone she wants, and she knows it. It probably contributes to her bratty attitude. I smirk as I think about her clear blue eyes rolling after every single remark I made while we sharedpommes fritesand champagne. Without that attitude, pretending could be hard. Thankfully, despite her being more than my type, that attitude will keep us both in check. Besides, I could probably learn a thing or two from her business savvy, and that’s what I have to keep in mind.
I’m putting my rocky personal life on hold in favor of something fake, so maybe, after Lena and after football, I can have something real to build my life on. Sponsorships. Endorsements. Commercial cameos. Outside of a secure financial future for myself and my family, being seen as someone who can hold on to a girl for longer than a minute isn’t a bad thing. If I can tolerate Lena’s sass and flippant behavior long enough, she might just be the single best thing that’s ever happened to me.
CHAPTER TEN
LENA
I rattlemy iced matcha latte until the drink settles enough for me to finish it.
“You seriously have nothing to say?” My mother fumes.
Biting down on the straw, I gaze up from the sprawling contract she’s laid out before me.
No—I want to shout—I actually have a lot to say.But because most of my comments have nothing to do with her current conniption fit, I keep them to myself.
“Thank God Legal was able to work something up on short notice.” My mother paces as Antonia becomes one with her tablet, scrolling and typing furiously.
Antonia pops her head up. “Jason just messaged that he’s faxing over Mr. Trace’s paperwork now.”
“Thank God.” My mom comes to a standstill, hands pressing into the freshly signed documents littering her desktop as she hovers over me. “This is why we have employees, Lena. This is why we’ve hired Antonia. She’s the one who is supposed to orchestrate how we reveal details of your personal life to the public.”
I shift in my seat, jaw clenching. I wish we didn’t have to release any of my personal information to the public at all. Noone is entitled to know a single thing about my personal life—her included. If it wasn’t for Callum’s unfaithfulness and my misplaced hope he’d take me back, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
I sigh. “I just wanted it to feel organic.”
“Then Antonia would have planned it that way.”
“You can’t plan organic,” I argue.
She rubs her temples. “Antonia, please talk some sense into her.”
Antonia lowers her tablet, stepping around the chair parallel to mine and dropping herself down to sit beside me. She gives me a sheepish smile as she leans forward. “I think what your mother is trying to say is that when we started thisinteractionbetween you and Decker, we were under the impression we would spearhead any and all leaks to the public, as we always do.”
