Page 98 of Lucky Puck

“Brooks isn’t here.” I give Ax a look that silences him, and I only hope he’s not thinking she’s been kidnapped or run off with the pool guy—anyone would be a better option for her than me.

“I have some things to do. I’m staying in Boston.”

I spot Jett, and he motions for me to meet him in the parking garage, so I take off while Sabien calls after me.

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

I don’t answer, and I hear Ax’s concerned words. “What’s going on? Is he okay? Is something wrong with Brooks?”

But as guilty as I feel about leaving them in the dark, dealing with Bigelow’s threat to out my fake marriage with Brooks is something I need to handle with as little fanfare as possible.

Hell, I’m not even telling Brooks what’s going on. The plan will work better that way.

Chapter Thirty-Two

BIANCA

Whalers Charity Fashion Show, Portsmouth Arena

“You go on just before lunch,” Marie says. “Are you sure you don’t mind being last?”

The arena’s lobby is decked out like a garden party, complete with round tables covered in pink and white tablecloths and dainty parasols parading as umbrellas, all enclosed by a small picket fence and surrounding a stage and runway.

Guests are buzzing at the numerous bars set up to serve Mimosas. Loosening my hands from their grip on each other because I’m wringing them like someone’s maiden aunt, my nerves are bubbling. I don’t know if it’s over walking down the runway pretending to be a model or the impending staged blow-up with Brody that has me wishing I could get something stronger than a Mimosa.

“It’ll be fine,” I answer her absently, looking around for Brody. The rest of the guys from the team have arrived with the expected fanfare from the crowd of 500, maximum capacity.

I glance at my wrist for the time and tap my too practical Apple Watch. I was already told by our fashion consultant that I’ll have to remove it.

“It’s still early,” Marie says. “We have a half hour before the show starts.” She puts an arm around my shoulders. “You’ll do beautifully. The outfit you’re wearing is gorgeous. You should take it home with you.”

I laugh, more from nerves than amusement.

The noise level is starting to rise, and some people are taking their tables. Luckily, my mother and brothers arrived earlier when I was calmer, and I seated them near the end of the too long runway.

After practicing my walk earlier, it felt longer than an ice rink and colder. I glance at the stage, which is set up at the beginning of the runway at the far end of the lobby, hiding the doors to the arena. There’s a hall that connects to the dressing rooms and a staging area for media.

We’re standing outside the fenced tables near where Mom and my brothers are sitting with Cherry, Sabien, Ax, Delaney, and Link. Nora Shade is making her way to the table now as we watch.

“Are you sure you want Nora to sit at the table with you for lunch?”

“Yes. She’s supposed to be representing the Holden family, right?”

Marie rolls her eyes. “I wish the rest of the Holden family, besides you, were here.” She winks. “It’s too bad they’re all at Kara’s hockey game today.”

“Yeah. What a shame.” I don’t hold back my sarcasm, and she laughs. I hastily add, “Nothing personal against them. It’s just that I’m nervous enough. They’ll be visiting next weekend.” Unless we can pull off our breakup by then.

Sadness slams me like a door shut in my face. Last week, Brody told me about the visit; I was looking forward to it, maybe even a little excited and hopeful.

I barely hold back a scornful snort at my stupid self.

“I’m sure they’ll love you.” Marie squeezes my arm, rescuing me from my self-derision, and I return to watching the front entry for any sign of Brody.

Cherry and Delaney leave the table and head in our direction.

“I’m sure Brody will be along soon,” Marie whispers as the others reach us. “But we need to go to the staging area to get ready. The show will be starting in fifteen minutes.”

When he arrives, I’m surprised by Brody’s sense of urgency as I watch him shove through the crowd without stopping as he finds me in the backstage area where I stand half hiding in an alcove. The space is set up for the media. All kinds of photographers, reporters, and influencer types are assembled here. Many of the WAGs pose and take informal questions. Chase’s wife, Emery, gets a lot of attention, and I study her grace under fire, wishing I could be so cool and warm at the same time.