Page 66 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector

And I realize this easy, steady rhythm between us is the first thing that’s felt close to normal since that night.

And yeah, maybe it’s still about playing the part. About keeping the fake dating plan going.

But I’m glad she’s coming. More than I should be.

A few quiet minutes pass with her typing, me nursing the last of my water. The house feels lighter than it has in days.

She finishes whatever she’s doing and stacks a few papers next to her laptop. “Everything’s pretty much squared away for the event Monday. Costumes, book stations, volunteers. It’s not complicated, but I like having everything lined up.”

“Where will it be?”

“The community center downtown,” she says. “It’s open to anyone who registers. I do it annually. Most of the kids come in costume. We’ve had everything from dragons to dinosaurs to a very confident six-year-old dressed as Sherlock Holmes.”

I grin. “They boys are gonna love this.”

“You think they’ll go classic superhero or something more sinister like a monster?”

“With them? Depends on their mood that morning.” I pause. “Liam might want to do matching costumes.”

She smiles into her coffee. “That would be adorable.”

I lean against the counter, watching the way her expression softens just talking about them.

Then I pull out my phone and open a text thread with Brian, our team’s travel manager.

“I let them know you’re coming,” I say. “I’ll have them email you the itinerary.”

Her brows lift. “You sure it’s not too late?”

“They block out extras for players’ guests,” I tell her. “It’s just a matter of adding your name.”

She nods and goes back to her screen while I fire off the message. Within ten minutes, Brian replies with a confirmation, plus a note that the flight and hotel info should hit her inbox shortly.

I relay that to her, and she refreshes her inbox.

“Here it is,” she says, already clicking into the email. “Wow, that was fast.”

But as she scrolls, her face changes.

Still.

Tense.

I step forward instinctively. “What is it?”

She doesn’t speak.

Just stares at her inbox.

I see the subject line that’s grabbed her attention.

It’s from Brad.

His name alone is enough to turn my stomach.

I still believe in us.

A steady anger builds in my chest, but I clamp it down. She’s staring at the screen like it might reach out and grab her.