CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

F inn

Cole Hawke bounces when he walks. I've never seen my agent so happy. I didn't know it was possible. The man seems to only growl and count money, channeling all his competitive instincts honed from when he used to play hockey two decades ago.

"Can I meet Belinda?" he asks.

I roll my eyes.

Belinda Pierce used to be a famous child actress at the turn of the century. She excelled at being sweet. Then after a period as a teenager when she made it clear she was not sweet and had been a much better actress than everyone imagined, she now has her own talk show.

I would feel better if there were fewer pictures of her screaming at people outside clubs.

"Please, meet her," I say. "Ideally do the whole interview."

"You're nervous." Cole narrows his eyes. "Don't fuck up this interview, Carrington."

My mouth opens and shuts a few times.

"You'll be great," Cole assures me. "Because you better be."

"You're the worst agent ever."

"Ha. I got you into the Boston Blizzards. I'm amazing."

"I take some of that credit," I grumble.

"Besides, think about how much extra money you're getting from this marriage thing."

My eyes widen. "What do you mean, extra money? "

"Who do you think convinced Tanaka to make you the face of the Blizzards?" Cole asks. "Me!"

"I thought Tanaka came up with that himself?"

"Nah. He hates sports. Always has."

"He shouldn't own a sports team."

"You sound like him."

"You still haven't explained the money."

"You're in more ads. Of course, you're getting more money. This interview will help us get better sponsorship deals for you."

"I guess I have been doing more ads."

"Yeah."

My stomach feels wobbly. When I asked Noah to marry me, I didn't think about financial benefits to my own career. But then we're in the 2020s. People are eager to support a gay couple.

I swallow hard.

They should be supporting Vinnie and Evan. Not me. And even though I know Vinnie and Evan like their privacy, guilt sweeps through me.

I dart a glance to Noah, but he is happily chatting to a makeup artist. I smile stupidly in his direction. Noah is adorable.

"You are gone for him," Cole murmurs, shaking his head.

My skin heats. I don't want to discuss this with my agent.

"You are so in love," Cole says. "Never thought I would see it."

I stiffen, because this feels like an insult.

"Noah is incredible."

Cole regards me, and my skin prickles as I wonder what he's thinking.

"I didn't say he wasn't," Cole says finally. "There's no need to be nervous, Finn. Show the world your love. That's all they want to see."

I nod, but my stomach twists and tightens.

Because even if I'm in love with Noah, he isn't in love with me. This marriage might have been inconvenient, but at this point, divorcing would be more inconvenient.

Maybe I should have tried harder for an annulment.

"Let's get some makeup on you," a 50-something woman with red hair and the sort of curls only possible on someone who knows advanced curling techniques gleefully declares.

"Is there still time to flee this building?" I ask.

"Absolutely not." Cole turns to the makeup artist. "Better give him a lot of bronzer. His skin looks green."

"Why do you think I have a job?" She gives a menacing grin, then brushes descend over my face.