Page 4

CHAPTER 4

LILAH

I am drunk.

That’s the only sensible explanation for what I just heard. There is no way Fox could have said what I think he did.

I’m her boyfriend, ma’am.

“Well. I guess I stand corrected, Lilah,” my mother says haughtily.

But I’m not paying her any attention. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from Fox— Arthur Fox—who is staring down at me with those gorgeous browns of his.

Go with it , they’re saying. Play along.

Maybe it’s the booze, or maybe it’s the fact that this could save me from my mother. Maybe it’s just that I want to; whatever it is, I do. I go right along with it, turning back to the camera to give my mother a See, I told you so look.

“Well, I suppose it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Fox.” She takes a sip of her wine. “So, what do you do?”

“Me, ma’am?” Fox’s drawl is more pronounced than I’ve heard before. “I’m a goalie.”

“A goalie?” My mother turns her nose up. “What’s a goalie?”

I roll my eyes at her snobbery. “Hockey, Mother. Fox plays hockey.”

That instantly has her much more interested in him than before, and I have no doubt it’s because my mother is seeing dollar signs. “Professionally?”

“Yes, ma’am. I play for the Seattle Serpents.”

“Well, Arthur, I had no idea you were dating my daughter until tonight.”

“You didn’t?” Fox grins down at me, and it’s that same expression that had me feeling all kinds of warm earlier. Now, I don’t feel warm. I feel confused. And a little annoyed. Yet somehow…almost relieved? And still drunk. “Our Lilah here can be a bit shy sometimes.”

No. That’s definitely annoyance winning out. I narrow my eyes at him, and he rolls his lips together, hiding his grin.

“Please, I don’t think Lilah has ever been shy a day in her life. Once when she was about six, she snuck onstage at Disneyland and did a whole horribly choreographed dance of the hokey pokey.”

She laughs as if she remembers this fondly, even though we both know she scolded me for a full hour afterward and returned my Mickey Mouse doll to the store. It was my first and last time at Disneyland.

“That so?” Laughter shines in Fox’s eyes, and I know that, unlike my mother who is pretending to think it’s cute, he really does.

I shrug. “What can I say? I liked the attention.”

“So, Arthur,” my mother says, “how long have you and my daughter been dating?”

“Oh, well, I don’t kiss and tell, ma’am.” He winks at her, and I swear if she weren’t already sitting, she’d fall right over. “I’ll let Lilah fill you in on all those details.” I drive my foot against his fancy shoes, and he grunts, but his smile never once slips from his lips. “I’m sure she’s been counting the days since we first got together.”

Another stomp on his foot and another pained noise from Fox.

Good. He deserves it, throwing me under the bus like this. I mean, yes, he’s clearly stepping in to help me, and he’s a total saint for that, but really? This is the last thing I expected to happen tonight.

“Well, Lilah?” my mother presses. “How long?”

It’s funny how she looks at Fox, a man she just met, like he’s the greatest thing in the world, and then how she looks at me like she’s still disappointed in me.

“A month or so now,” I answer, hoping she doesn’t hear the shake of uncertainty in my voice.

“And why didn’t we meet you at Christmas, young man?”

“I flew home to see my parents.”

“Ah, I see. Why didn’t you mention him to us?” This question she directs to me.

“Because you never let me get a word in edgewise.”

“Lilah!”

Fox laughs, squeezing my hip. “She’s kidding, ma’am. We didn’t want to jinx anything. New relationships and all that. They take time to build, and we wanted to make sure we got it right this time.”

“Aw.” She sighs dreamily, and I know Auden was right. My mother has had too much chardonnay if she’s falling for the show Fox is putting on. “That’s just… That is so sweet, Arthur. Isn’t he so sweet, Lilah?”

I force myself to smile. “He sure is.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet you at my husband’s birthday party. You will be there, correct?”

“Remind me of the date, Lilah?”

“Saturday evening,” I tell him.

Fox mentally does the math, rolling team names off his lips in a whisper, and I hold my breath. Why? I don’t know. I can’t decide if I want him to be able to attend or not. On the one hand, it’ll save me from a terrible date my mother will still set up for me because it would just be so embarrassing if I came alone. But on the other…well, I am still not dating Fox.

“Yes,” he says after a few moments of silence. “Yes, I can make it.”

“Oh, wonderful!” My mother claps her hands excitedly. “I’m so looking forward to meeting you.”

“Likewise, ma’am. I’ve heard so many lovely things about you and Mr. Maddison,” my new boyfriend says.

My mother snorts unattractively. “Oh, Mr. Fox, I highly doubt that given my daughter’s displeasure toward me, but I appreciate you trying to cover for her.”

Fox’s hand tightens around my waist, but his smile never slips. It’s the only indication I have that he doesn’t care for her words, and I don’t know why it brings me such comfort, but it does.

“I hate to cut this short, but would it be too much trouble if I stole Lilah away from you for a bit? I would love to have the next dance with her.”

My mother clutches her chest. “Such a gentleman.” She shoos us off. “Yes, yes. Go. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you.” He dips his head toward her. “You have a happy New Year, Mrs. Maddison.”

She waves. “Oh, stop with that. You can call me Selene.”

“Have a great night, Selene.”

“You too, Arthur. And, Lilah, we’ll chat later, yes?”

It’s not truly a request. It’s a demand. Maybe it’s the booze giving me courage, but I don’t dignify it with a response. I just hang up. When the screen goes black, I shrug off Fox’s embrace and fling my arms into the air.

“What the hell was that, Arthur ?” He winces, presumably at the use of his first name, and I’m glad it upsets him because again—what the hell? “How could you… Why would you…”

I can’t even form a proper question right now. I’m still too stunned. Fox—the Seattle Serpents’ number one goaltender—just told my mother he is my boyfriend and volunteered to attend a party my snooty parents are hosting. I can’t believe this is happening right now. When I said earlier I’d find someone, I didn’t mean someone like Fox. I meant someone who would actually survive an evening with those awful people.

He lifts a shoulder. “Seemed like you were in a pickle.”

The gesture is so nonchalant. His words are so nonchalant, like absolutely none of this is bothering him.

“ Seemed like you were in a pickle ,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You’re… You…”

But again, the words don’t come. How can he be so cool about this? So calm? Does he even realize what he’s just done? What he’s subjecting himself to? Does he know what kind of world I come from? How even though he makes millions a year, they’re still going to judge him for it because he’s not sitting in an office all day, bossing around minions?

He slides a hand through his hair. “I take it you’re mad.”

“Of course I’m mad!” I finally explode, and for a moment, I worry I’m being too loud, worry maybe someone inside will see me out here completely losing my cool and I’ll embarrass Auden, but I don’t care.

He can’t do this.

“What were you thinking?”

Another unbothered shrug. “You needed help.”

“I didn’t need your help,” I sneer, crossing my arms over my chest, the cold of the night setting in. I didn’t realize how chilly it was before, too incensed by my mother’s words and then warmed by Fox’s touch, but now I feel the full force of the December air.

I’m not sure why I’m being so mean. Fox is nice— too nice of a guy sometimes, if you ask me—but this? This is taking things a bit too far.

“Really?” He raises a brow. “Because it seemed to me like your mother was winning that little battle of wills, and you were moments away from blowing your cover. She knew you were lying.”

“She did not,” I mutter, but deep down, I know he’s right. She knew, and I was about to tell her the truth. I was tired of her questions, tired of hearing her words, especially because they were true.

“She did,” he says, slipping his tux jacket down his arms, then closing the distance between us. I’m already warm before he even wraps it around me.

I’m pretty sure ninety-nine percent of the guys here have already discarded their coats, sporting unbuttoned dress shirts and loosened ties, but not him. Of course not him.

“Listen,” Fox says, stepping back and putting space between us like the nice guy he is, “if you’re really that upset, I won’t go. You could say I had a hockey thing come up or something.”

It’s tempting. It really is. But I have a sneaking suspicion that would somehow be far worse than pretending to be dating for a night. And really, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s just one night, and at least I’ll get to spend the evening with someone I know, someone I actually like instead of feeling alone in a room full of people who are undoubtedly talking about me whenever my back is turned.

I peek up at Fox through my lashes, trying very hard not to notice the moonlight hitting his jawline, highlighting the stubble peppering it. Or the way his brown eyes seem to glimmer beneath the moonbeams. How his dress shirt is tight over his broad shoulders, tapering in at his waist with precision. Or how even though he looks reminiscent of a high school science teacher chaperoning prom with his shirt still perfectly in place, bowtie completely straight, hands tucked into his pockets, he doesn’t. He looks good. Too good.

I swallow, then sigh.

“Fine.”

His eyes widen. “Fine? Does that mean…?”

I nod. “Yes, you can be my date. I mean, it makes sense anyway, doesn’t it, boyfriend ?”

He grimaces as he lifts his hand, squeezing the back of his neck like he’s suddenly embarrassed by his genius plan. I tug his jacket tighter around me, craving its warmth and relishing the scent that’s entirely him, tickling at my nose while we stand there awkwardly. Me, wrapped in his jacket that’s about three sizes too big and hits below my knees, and him, his hands still stuffed in his pockets and looking like he’s about to tell me Pluto’s a planet again or some shit.

Is this how it’s going to be at my dad’s party? Because if so, there is no way my mother is going to buy us dating. She might be smitten by Fox and excited that I have a date for now, but if we don’t sell it, I’m never going to hear the end of it.

“So…” Fox says, rocking back on his heels. “Want to dance?”

I can’t help it—I laugh. Loudly.

Of course Fox wants to dance. Of course Fox is completely unaffected by this. Of course he’s grinning at me right now, and of course it’s working.

I smile back. “Yeah, Fox, I’d like to dance. But first?”

“First?”

“I need a drink.”

His smile grows. “I think I can manage that.”

“Champagne for you, vodka soda for me.”

“Thank you.” I take the glass from Fox’s outstretched hand, instantly bringing it to my lips. I lost my buzz from earlier with our very sobering conversation on the balcony, and now I’m on a mission to regain it, maybe even surpass it. I need it, considering I’m now “dating” a hockey player.

I gulp the drink down in record time, then hand the empty glass back to him. To my surprise, Fox says nothing. He just chugs most of his vodka and orders us another round. Fresh drinks in hand, we make our way to one of the many standing tables. I lean against it, rolling my champagne flute between my fingers, and Fox mirrors my moves. I still have his coat wrapped around me, the scent of Irish Spring and mahogany wafting about every time I move just the right way.

“So, Arthur ,” I say, enjoying the frown that momentarily pulls at his lips far too much. “How did we meet?”

“Well, Lilah Jane ,” he teases, “I think we can tell the truth on that.”

“Which is?”

“You fell in love with my goalie stretches.”

I laugh loudly, but it dies quickly when I realize his words might be hitting a bit too close to home. I think back to last year when Auden took me to my first Seattle Serpents game, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the way Fox stretched against the ice. It was almost like he was fucking, his hips moving up and down suggestively. Of course, I knew he wasn’t doing anything remotely sexual and I fully understood what was happening, but still, I let my mind wander for a moment. Probably because I was horny as hell, but whatever.

“I’m not sure that’ll go over very well,” I eventually say.

He grins. “Fine, then. My backup answer of ‘mutual friends’ will have to suffice.”

“That sounds much more reasonable.”

“And if anyone asks how long we’ve been dating?” he asks.

“Keep it vague. Like we did with my mother.”

“Fair enough.” He nods. “Your mother… She’s, uh…”

“Terrible? Absolutely abhorrent? Evil personified?”

He chokes out a laugh. “Gosh, no. I just…”

“You can say those things about her, Fox. I do it all the time.”

He grins again—always grinning—but this time, there’s a hint of sadness to it, like he feels bad for me because that’s how I view my mother. I wash his look down with a swig of booze, an inkling of that buzz from earlier already returning. Guess I didn’t sober up nearly as much as I thought.

“I’m sorry your relationship with her is like that,” he says, watching me closely.

I shrug. “It is what it is. Let me guess—your relationship with your parents is picture perfect?”

Even in the dim lighting, I can see his cheeks turn red, and he ducks his head like he’s embarrassed by my accurate guess.

“Figures,” I mutter, finishing my drink just in time for a server to pass. I steal another glass off their tray. I’m sure I sound every ounce as bitter as my mother claimed I am, but that’s because I’m not used to someone with a perfect home life. Growing up, I at least had Auden and Rory to commiserate with. None of us knew what it was like to have a family that wasn’t riddled with issues.

Fox here doesn’t know that struggle.

“Are they still married?” I ask, curious now.

“Thirty-five years last summer.”

I whistle. “Wow. I mean, my parents are still legally married too, but it’s not like they actually love each other. It’s all for show. And because my father knows my mother would take him for everything in court, and he loves his money far more than he loves her.”

It’s the most I’ve ever told anyone other than Auden about my home life, and it’s precisely because of the look Fox is giving me right now—pity—that I don’t share that information broadly. He feels bad for me, and honestly, I feel bad for me too. But what can I do about it? It’s their fault, not mine.

I take another sip of my drink, my head starting to feel that fun sort of fuzzy, and my body finally loosens up after my mother’s phone call. My mother, who I definitely don’t want to talk about anymore. In fact, I want to do literally anything else other than talk about her, maybe even jump out of a plane. But, since there are no aircraft around and everyone else is doing it, I guess I’ll settle on relieving the tension building in my shoulders on the dance floor.

“Do you want to dance?”

Fox looks surprised for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, let’s dance.”

He sets his half-empty vodka soda on the table, then thinks better of it, picking it back up and drinking the rest before setting it down and coming my way. He holds his hand out to me like he did earlier, bending at the waist like he’s courting me, and this time, I’m just intoxicated enough to find it cute.

“May I have this dance, ma’am?” he asks, his drawl turned up to a ten.

I giggle. “You may.”

No sooner than our fingers touch, he tugs me into his arms, spinning us both out to the dance floor. We run right into Auden and Hutch, and if they look surprised to see us together, they don’t say a word.

“Lilah!” Auden throws her arms around me with a shout, and I smell the sweet alcohol on her breath as she smooshes her face against mine. “Come dance with me!”

I laugh. “We already are dancing.”

“Oh. Right. Come dance with me!” she repeats.

I look at Hutch, who, based on the grin on his face, appears to have had too many drinks himself, and he just shrugs. So we dance. And dance some more, so long that I completely lose track of the number of drinks I’ve had and Fox and even what time it is. I don’t know anything until I hear people shouting random numbers, and even then, it takes me three of them to realize the numbers aren’t random and they are counting down to midnight.

Midnight. The new year. The year I’m starting with a boyfriend. A fake boyfriend.

I glance around the room, searching for the man I’m supposedly dating, but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Six!”

I see Auden and Hutch huddled up together.

“Five!”

Rory and Lawson with their heads bent close.

“Four!”

Hayes and his nanny-turned-girlfriend Quinn.

“Three!”

Locke is posted up at the bar, watching his teammates.

“Two!”

Keller walks out of the party altogether.

“One!”

Two arms slip around my waist, and I fall against that same brick wall from before.

No. Not a wall. It’s Fox.

I spin in his arms, looking up at him as he grins down at me. That warmth I felt earlier spreads through me again, and even though I’m absolutely drunk, I know it has nothing to do with the alcohol. It’s all because of those sweet brown eyes.

“Arthur,” I say. Or at least I think I say it.

He drops his head, and for a second, I think he might kiss me. For a second, I might want him to.

Now that is definitely the booze talking.

But he doesn’t. He bypasses my lips, his own dancing dangerously close to my skin as he makes his way to my ear, where he whispers so only I can hear, “Happy New Year, sugar.”

I can’t breathe. All the air is taken from my lungs and I’m unable to force any back in. I don’t know how. I just know that somehow, Fox has made sugar the most attractive thing a man can say.

When he pulls away, he laughs at what he sees, which I assume is me looking completely dazed because, damn, why is that so hot?

“Come on,” he says in that low drawl of his that goes right between my legs. “Let’s get you home.”

He pulls me through the ballroom that looks absolutely incredible, if I do say so myself. I try to pat my own back, but I can’t seem to make my arm move, all my limbs suddenly growing very, very tired.

“Home?” I ask.

“Yes, home.” Fox wraps his arm around me, tugging me to his side, and I’m so far gone that I allow it, snuggling into him even more as he pulls me into the elevator.

The hum of the descent is soothing, and my eyelids lower further with each passing floor. By the time we hit the lobby, I can hardly keep them open. Fox leads me outside, holding me tightly the whole way and ensuring I don’t fall over. Not until we hit the sidewalk do I realize I somehow lost my heels.

“My shoes!” I try to wrench out of Fox’s grasp and rush back into the hotel to grab my Louboutins, which cost way more than I’d like to admit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He curls his hand around my waist, pulling me back to him. “I’ll make sure someone grabs them.”

“Okay, but don’t let it be Lawson. I bet he’d try to wear them, and I don’t want them stretched out.”

He laughs, though I’m not sure what’s funny. I was being serious.

“I promise I won’t let Lawson wear your shoes.”

I nod, hoping he keeps his word because my legs are so tired I’m not sure I can walk for another moment.

As if he knows it too, he wraps me back into his arms, holding me up again as a sleek black Uber pulls around the front.

“You’re a good fake boyfriend, Arthur.”

He laughs. “Thank you, Lilah Jane.”

“You’re welcome, Arthur .”

Another deep rumble, the sound of a door being pulled open, and a blast of heat. It’s the last thing I remember before I fall straight to sleep.