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“You do,” I say to Shanay.

“I better,” she says with a soft laugh. “Took me nearly three hours to get ready while this one watched sports highlights. We have the harder job, don’t we?”

“We do,” I agree.

“Linc’s right, though,” she says conspiratorially. “But don’t let him know that. We’ve got to keep their egos in check.”

Tell me about it. That much, I already know.

I hand Shanay my phone. She types in her number and I text her back. Marcus shows up carrying his drink and a lemonade. He hands me my glass and says hi to Lincoln and Shanay.

I sense something in the direction of the elevators and look over just as Winona is stepping off. I don’t know if I believe in twintuition, but I do get a feeling when she’s nearby, and it’s almost always accurate. Our eyes meet and she smiles, tapping Declan on the arm until he looks in our direction too.

Their place cards aren’t at our table. When I first saw that, I was tempted to do a little rearranging, but I figure the hosts have a reason for interspersing donors and coaches and players around the room.

Someone clinks their glass and a middle-aged woman approaches the mic. Her hair falls perfectly in a soft, grey bob, and she’s wearing a sparkly black gown that contrasts with her porcelain skin.

Shanay leans in toward me. “That’s Elsbeth Cowell. She runs the Thunder Foundation. I can introduce you two later. She’s a woman you want to know if you’re doing charity work.”

I’m starting to see the perks of fake dating Marcus for the evening. Not ongoing. That would be worse than three lifetimes on the torture machine in The Princess Bride. But, for tonight, I’m making connections. On my own, I would never have gotten the attention of these people.

Winona walks over and gives me a side hug while Declan man-hugs his teammates with a lot of clapping of backs when they embrace.

“We’ve got to get to our seats,” Winona says. “I’ll check in with you later.”

“I’ll send you an SOS if I need an out,” I whisper.

She rolls her eyes as if I’m joking. Of course she thinks I willingly said yes to Marcus because I finally saw the light and accepted his natural wonderfulness. I feel a little bad not letting her in on the real truth, but for a night, it can’t hurt to let her believe the best.

Elsbeth Cowell welcomes everyone and speaks briefly about the Tennessee Thunder Foundation and what the night's proceeds support. Her speech is followed by a short video about youth sports programs. The team owner gets up and greets everyone.

All the while, Marcus’s hand is draped lazily over the back of my chair. He’s a big man. He needs to spread out. Does he need to be up in my personal space all night? I imagine if we were on a real date, he would, so I allow it.

The silent auction is announced as our salad plates arrive, followed by the main course. Everyone converses around the table and I join in when I can.

Jaxon Pierce tells the table, “You should see Cass with the stats.”

“Oh?” An older gentleman, a donor of some sort, raises his brows.

“Yeah,” Lincoln says. “Give her a player’s name. She’ll rattle the stats.”

“It’s not a party trick,” Marcus says, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Is he jealous that he’s not the focus of the conversation for the moment?

I look at the older gentleman and say, “Give me a name. I’ll do my best.”

“Tell me about Linc here,” the man says, tipping his chin toward Lincoln Walker.

Shanay says, “I don’t even know your stats, babe.”

“That’s okay,” Linc says. “I didn’t marry you because you knew football.”

They smile at one another. It’s a sweet moment—one that makes me almost feel like an intruder. There’s this warmth between them, like they’re best friends, lovers, and the one person they’d each turn to when life gets hard.

“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat. “Lincoln Walker.”

“Present,” he says, like he’s answering roll call.