Page 4

Chapter 4

Zack

I love a good “what the fuck” moment and it seems we’ve got a solid one on our hands.

“This is my sister, Eliza, and her fiancé, Mitch.” Emilie’s words are syrupy sweet, enough to rot your teeth. I know who they are courtesy of Tripp, who gave in one day and had to tell me some gossip he’d heard from Willow.

Pulling the hand from Emilie’s back, I go for a handshake. Eliza’s hand feels like a limp doll while Mitch is trying to show me he can hang—even when I know he can’t.

“You’re Zack Andersen,” Mitch stammers, voice quiet and a bit too fast, like there’s not enough room for the words in his mouth. “You threw the game-winning touchdown in the Super Bowl.”

“You must be the backup quarterback?” Eliza asks, taking me in, from my blonde hair down to my Tom Ford dress shoes.

“Nope, just the long snapper. Definitely a big fan of the trick play.”

“You came here with Zack Andersen. How does that happen?” Mitch asks, looking to Emilie and wearing an enthusiastic smile.

“Why wouldn’t she come with me? She is my girlfriend.” The words are smooth and confident from my mouth. Emilie laughs next to me, enough for me to feel her body move with it.

Skeptical eyes from her sister and surprised ones from Mitch fall on Emilie. “You never said anything…” Eliza presses .

“Yeah, that’s all me.” I put a hand on my chest, claiming responsibility before I take the same hand and thread my fingers into Emilie’s. She doesn’t miss a beat. “I wanted to keep it quiet. You know, the press and all that.”

“So, you’re coming to the wedding?” Mitch asks.

Shit. I didn’t see that coming. Emilie’s fingers squeeze mine, too hard. I try to keep my face steady.

“October 17 th . Cancun, Mexico.”

I don’t know what I did to deserve such luck in this life sometimes, but I know that is our bye week for the Upstate Cosmos. That date is burned into my brain because I plan a trip every single season.

“I’ll be there, ” I reply as Mitch loudly claps his hands before I can even get the words out. I can feel Emilie’s hazel eyes on me.

“You only RSVP’d for one,” Eliza protests to Emilie.

Emilie shrugs her shoulders. “Did I? Well, whoops.”

“Zack Andersen is coming to our wedding!” Mitch jostles Eliza, her forehead scrunched and lips in a thin line.

“We’re going to get a drink. I’m sure we’ll see you at a family dinner soon,” Eliza snaps as she begins pulling Mitch toward the bar.

I wave to Mitch who is still looking back at me, his arm dangling like it’s barely attached to his body.

Emilie turns to me, taking a long drink of her champagne. I bet she wishes it was an Aperol Spritz—doesn’t matter if it’s spritz season or not, she’ll take one. I’ll never forget when a bartender in Vegas gave her such shit for ordering one at the Super Bowl after party.

“What the fuck was that?” She smiles, but her voice is sharper than I like.

“Right? I can’t believe you dated that guy. ”

Emilie gives me her fakest laugh, using a hand to smooth out the front of my suit jacket. “Not that. What did you just do? How did you even know who that was?”

“Tripp gave me the short version a few weeks ago. And I've overheard bits and pieces when we’ve been out.” I cheers her glass with mine. Emilie doesn’t move, her golden eyes like knives. “Don’t worry, I have a valid passport and a bye week.”

“Of course you do.” She drinks the rest of the champagne before setting the empty glass on the table behind us.

“What’s the problem? We hang out in Mexico. I can be the doting, professional athlete boyfriend while your sister marries your ex. I think I'm the perfect distraction.”

Honestly, it seems like a great time. It won’t be the first instance where I’ve helped make someone jealous.

Emilie is trying to keep it together. She picks at her palms, and her chest rises and falls quickly, matching her breath. I don’t have all the details but it’s clear Emilie has a complicated relationship with her family, which is hard to relate to. My parents, who were high school sweethearts and are still married, plus my baby sister, are some of my favorite people.

“The problem is that my sister is a sleuthing snake. If we’re not dating, she’ll find out, and she’ll find a way to twist it and make it some terrible thing I did to her.”

I have half an idea forming, maybe not even half.

“Okay, so we’ll date.”

Emilie’s eyes widen. “ We’ll date ? How many drinks have you had?”

“I’m sober, Emilie. We’ll pretend to date, that way your sister won’t find anything amiss.”

“You want to pretend-date me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We’ll try out all the new restaurants on my list. You already come to the Cosmos games with Willow. It’ll be fun. ”

She scoffs and shakes her head, looking around the room, before stopping at the floor. It kills me to let the silence stretch.

“This is a big deal. Things between Eliza and me are already rocky and complicated.”

“I understand.”

“That means you won’t be able to—” Emilie’s eyebrows scrunch, and her eyes dart around the room, like she’s trying to find the right words— “do whatever it is you do with whoever you do it with.”

Well played. She’s being as vague as possible, but I get it.

“Is that something you’re willing to give up?” Her mouth is pressed in a line so thin I can barely see her red lips.

That isn’t something I considered with the very loose idea in my brain. I can do that, probably. For Emilie, I can try.

“To jog your memory,” she says, with her arms crossed and a slow but painful look. While taking a slow breath, she tilts her head. “The last time we were out, you were practically having a threesome on the dance floor. That’s what you’re giving up.”

Nothing vague about that. I'd like to tell her that was a one-time deal, but that would be a lie. This specific instance had me between two sisters, both with chocolate colored hair, and they couldn’t get enough of making me their sandwich. I kept catching Emilie watching me, and she made sure I saw her roll her eyes while she wore a smirk. Nothing like a little light judgement when I probably deserved it.

“Done and done. Let’s deactivate the dating app right now.” I pull my phone out, going to the exclusive app which only allows celebrities and athletes to join. Emilie watches as I go to my settings and click the big deactivate button.

Emilie bites her lip. “We’re really doing this?” she asks .

I answer by reaching for her hand and leading her to the dance floor. A slow song is playing so I put my hands on her lower back, and she wraps her arms around me.

How hard can this be?