Page 27 of The Fake WIfe Playbook

“What?” I jump up and join her at the window. There are TV vans and reporters on the property.

Shit just got real. Then, my phone rings again. My brother, Jack, is calling.

“Hi,” my nondescript self answers. I’m emotionally dead. Is this how it is for large stars? I underestimated the paparazzi, that’s for sure. In one night, I’ve gone from an unknown to a touted country singer.

“You are trending globally. Why didn’t you call me? I wish you had told me. You’re blowing up the internet,” he says.

“I’m sorry, Jack, I panicked,” I say, and honestly, I did.

Before he can respond, Shay interrupts with, “Well, panic faster next time,” just to be snarky.

“I don’tknow, I got married!” I snap.

“I don’t care!” She yells back, but she’s smiling at me.

“Well, maybe you should find your husband,” she replies.

“Point taken.”

I return to my brother. “Anyway, I bailed on him this morning.”

“That’s not cool.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Uhm, stick around like an adult,” he replies.

Suddenly, everyone’s a critic. I glance at Shay, and she stands there with a critical look on her face.

Like, okay, it’s not my best move.

“We don’t know each other. It was a mistake,” I tell Jack.

“Sis, it’s cool. Can I meet him?’

“I don’t know. But I have to go. I need to be in Atlanta for a gig tonight.

“Okay, keep me posted. I can’t believe you married a jock.”

“Bye,” I say, dragging out the ‘e’.

I turn to Shay. “I don’t want my career to be defined by his last name. That’s not who I am. That’s not what I’m about.”

“A hot, passionate mistake from what you told me. I think he likes you. What’s the worst that can happen? I don’t see a downside to this, for you anyway. And hockey players are always the life of the party. Don’t kid yourself. He’s hitched to a pretty country singer, and everyone will think he scored.”

“I’m not that big. What if everyone thinks I’m riding his coattails to fame? What if anyone thinks I’m a gold digger? You know that’s what they’ll say.”

“Does it matter? You don’t know these people, and don’t let the media eat you alive. Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one.”

“True. But I don’t want to bethatgirl.”

“I know. But you just opened for Rose Maghee—that’s not nothing. You’re working your way up. No one can take that away from you, Kate.”

“Right,” I say, but I don’t believe it. The media are a critic, and they push their agenda regardless of the truth.

I tell myself this will die down in twenty-four hours. I mean, that’s today’s news cycle. All I need is for a famous star to die, the president to fall going up steps, or another protest, and I’m off the hook.

But I never imagined what would happen if that weren’t the case.