Page 35 of Lucky Puck

I smile and try to figure out how a newlywed should act when her secret is out. Shit. I got nothing. All of my energy is going into keeping me from throwing up.

“Surprise,” I say with the enthusiasm and grimace of an undertaker.

“It’s all my fault,” Sabien jumps in. “They wanted to keep it secret, and I blew it. I had no idea the interest would be so…” He shakes his head.

“Amazing?” Martino says.

Losing control of my eyebrows, they fly up my forehead while I try to maintain some semblance of professionalism and still keep my guts from hurling whatever is in there—butterflies?—all over the handsome VP of Cavalaro Motors.

“In a way—” I start, but Carlotta joins us with a big smile.

“You sly pussycat,” she says. “Congratulations on coming up with the biggest surprise of NHL All-Star weekend and capturing the trendiest story honors on social media and the current sports media news cycle.

“Wait a second—does Jett know about this?” Martini asks.

A buzz rises in the room as people on the sidelines of the current shoot start picking up their phones.

“What the hell is going on?” the director yells, turning and frowning in our direction.

Carlotta grins. “It’s all good. Brody is making a big splash is all. Carry on.”

The director zeroes in on Brody, and he doesn’t look nearly as happy as Carlotta. I bolt in his direction, feeling lightheaded as I finally glance at my phone and the video clip playing on Instagram.

“I need to have a word with Brody.”

The director nods and calls for a five-minute break.

I pull Brody aside, ignoring his impossibly sparkly appearance because the makeup has made him look like a live version of an airbrushed poster. His stitches and bruising are invisible. “I can explain everything.”

However, once again, I’m telling a big fat lie.

In fact, in the span of one short All-Star Weekend with Brody Holden, I’ve managed to tell more lies than I have in the previous twenty-eight years of my life.

“What’s going on?” he asks, holding onto my arms, rubbing them like he’s soothing me.

“We went viral and⁠—”

Carlotta swoops in and takes me by the arm. “Let them get back to the shoot. We’re already behind schedule.”

Brody’s expression is unreadable, but he nods and lets go of me.

With some force, she drags me away from the set. “Nothing to explain.” She waves a hand in a circle. “Keep shooting.”

The director nods and calls for Brody to prep for his camera time.

Carlotta whispers as she leads me back to sit with Martino, who is still absorbed by his phone. “Congrats, by the way. Quite a whale you’ve landed there. A winner in every sense.” She grabs my left hand again and nods. “Keeping it simple. I like that.”

“We… were in a hurry.” Great. Now I’ll probably need to explain why we were in a hurry, and I have no explanation ready.

Her eyes go wide. “Wait—are you pregnant?” Her voice squeaks, straining the whisper, and I clap a hand over her mouth.

“Shhh.” Panic shreds whatever professional poise I have left, and when I should be doing damage control, I’m mute and flushed with embarrassment as if guilty as charged.

“That’s amazing. Just when I didn’t think this story could get any better⁠—”

Heat burns my face, but I manage to keep the horror out of my voice and hold onto my whisper. “No. No. Of course I’m not pregnant. And what do you mean by story? You’re not a reporter⁠—”

“The ad business is all about telling stories.” She smiles and leans in, lowering her voice further. “Though I’m not sure your story is exactly right for the seductive and sexy image we’re selling for these cars.”