Page 78 of Lucky Puck

Emery explains how the wives and girlfriends of the players model fashions from local designers and boutiques, and the proceeds go to the Whalers Foundation.

“That sounds like enormous fun. Count me in. I have some experience modeling.”

“That’s a great idea, Nora,” Kara says. “You can take my place in the show this year and represent the Holden name.”

That comment silences everyone in our small group as everyone’s eyes go to me. I manage to keep my smile intact, mostly out of shock, as the air goes still, like the absence of a response is creating a vacuum. Kara meets my gaze and tilts her head with an awkward smile as if to say oops, but she doesn’t apologize.

Her slight may as well be a revenge-slap to my face on behalf of her friend as my face heats up and I take a step back. Or I would, but Cherry holds me in place.

I’m supposed to be representing the Holden name. I think the words when I should be saying them out loud. But I can’t because I can’t get past the fact that I’m not really a Holden. I wonder if Kara suspects that.

“You’re not a wife or girlfriend.” Delaney brings the dead air to life, stating the obvious directly to Nora.

Nora laughs. “You never know.” She waves a hand. “Nice meeting you all. Marie, send me the details about the event.” She turns to Kara. “Let’s get to that party I told you about.” She glances at me over her shoulder as she walks away with a gloaty smile that makes me want to slap her all over again. Kara follows and gives me one last look. It’s an unreadable look, but I swear I can see a kernel of skepticism in the squint of her eyes.

Or, I could be paranoid about living a lie.

Henry returns to Marie’s side, rejoining our small group. “They’re interviewing Sabien. Come over here to watch.” He takes her away as a collective laugh rises from the crowd of reporters, catching the interest of the others.

“Don’t worry,” Emery says. “Marie will handle Nora diplomatically.” I give her a grateful smile, wishing I knew her well enough to give her a hug. Instead, my phone buzzes, and I slip it from my bag to see that it’s my brother.

“I have to take this.”

She nods, and I back away, putting some distance between me and the bulk of the noise before I answer, unease strangling me from the inside. “Hello, Billy. What a surprise⁠—”

“That’s what I’m saying. Imagine my surprise when I see your name in the sporting news as the new wife of the hockey phenom Brody Holden. What the hell’s going on? I thought you were his agent⁠—”

“Don’t worry. It was a Vegas wedding…” I try to keep my commitment vague to prepare for the upcoming divorce.

“Did the bastard womanizer get you drunk and take advantage⁠—”

“No! No, nothing like that.”

“Well, what was it like? Even Mom doesn’t know what happened.”

My mind spins, trying to come up with an answer to that. I hear some scuffling in the background, and another voice comes on the line.

“Never mind, B,” Bob says, taking over for Billy. I’m relieved he’s using my familiar childhood nickname. “We’re coming down to talk to Brody man-to-man. As much as it might be cool to have fucking Brody Holden for a brother-in-law, something doesn’t seem right about this quickie wedding.”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be perfectly capable of making the decision to marry Brody Holden?”

“It’s not… well, you know what I mean. The kid’s a notorious bachelor, and he’s … a kid.”

“He’s my husband. And believe me, he’s a full-grown man.”

“Aww, why’d you have to say that? TMI, B.”

“You asked for it.”

“Whatever. Me and Billy are coming down to have a talk with Holden. We’ll be there next weekend. Mom’s coming too. Something about a fashion show.”

“You can’t⁠—”

“I’ll see you next Saturday. Don’t worry, we’ll get a hotel room.” He ends the call before I can say another word. Before I can ask him, what about Dad?

My phone pings, signaling a text, and I smile.

Bob: Dad’s staying home to take care of the diner. Says he’s not worried about you.