22. Keke

Chapter 22

Keke

W e part ways so I can handle some event business. Luke wanted to talk to the guys before things get started, anyway. He seems so nervous—I know he doesn’t like being the center of attention which is why I wanted him to MC the event. He can run things and be the face of the night without having to be in the spotlight, so to speak.

The ballroom glitters, a jewel box filled with opulence. My heels click against the polished floor as I make my way through crowds of people adjusting their bow ties and dresses. It seems the upper echelon of Atlanta is ready to shoot their shot for a hockey player.

The air is buzzing with anticipation, each laugh and burst of conversation a reminder that tonight needs to be flawless. These are the people we need to impress. Socialites and high rollers, pillars of the community who came out to support a worthy cause and watch some hockey players vie for their money. It’s the kind of night that could change everything—for the team, for Luke, and for me.

I’m holding a clipboard weighed down with last-minute details. I finish one thing and two more pop up in its wake. I flip through the updated roster of bachelor’s for the auction. My heart stops when I see Luke’s name scribbled hastily at the bottom, as if it had been added as an afterthought. My fingers tighten around the clipboard, knuckles whitening.

Luke wasn’t supposed to be on the list. He’s the MC tonight. We’d agreed—no surprises. My heart twists in my chest, a reminder of how stupid I’d been to think that maybe, just maybe, he was paying attention to what I’d told him. That he took my advice and rules to heart. That he listened to me.

I’m such a moron.

How could I have trusted him? I’d trusted the way he looked at me, like I’d hung the moon. I fell for his charm and those damn puppy dog eyes just like every other woman he’d won over. I’d even started to let myself feel something for him and fucking hell, I thought it was real.

Fool.

I lean against the wall, my head lightly banging against it. I take a steadying breath but it snags on something bitter in my chest. We did agree to keep this physical. Just two people with shared electricity and a contract that says my job is to make sure he doesn’t burn down his career. And yet, here I am, feeling gutted. I shake my head, forcing a professional smile as I nod at the event staff rushing by.

Get a grip, Keke, I tell myself . He’s just a player, you knew that going in.

I walk through the tangle of backstage equipment and into the staff room, where Whitney is sorting auction paddles into neat rows. She looks up when I enter, eyebrows raised. “Hey, you look... flustered. Everything okay?”

I open my mouth to answer, but the room suddenly tilts, a nauseating roll that makes me grip the edge of the nearest table. The chatter outside dims to a muffled hum, replaced by the rushing sound in my ears. I swallow hard, trying to push down the wave of dizziness, but it rises up again, sharp and insistent. Panic shoots through me.

“Excuse me,” I mutter, pushing past a startled Whitney. I barely make it to the nearest bathroom before doubling over the sink, my stomach lurching as I retch. Tears prick my eyes as I gasp for breath, my pulse racing erratically.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The question spins through my mind as I steady myself on trembling legs. A deep unease settles into my gut, more than just the disappointment of seeing Luke’s name on that list. This is something different. I’m used to being frustrated by men, so what is causing this?

Maybe this kind of disappointment gets worse as one gets older. This certainly hurts worse than any other time I’ve been lied to by a man.

When I step out of the bathroom, Whitney is waiting, her expression etched with concern. She reaches out, touching my arm gently. “Keke, seriously, what’s going on? You look like shit.”

“I’m fine,” I reply quickly, my voice a notch too high. “It’s just my nerves from the stress, you know? Making sure this whole night doesn’t fall apart.”

Whitney’s eyes narrow. She crosses her arms, leaning back slightly like she’s gearing up for a conversation she’s not going to let me dodge. I’m pinned down by her expression, unable to avoid her suspicions. “Keke, you aren’t the type to crumble under pressure. And forgive me, but I’ve seen that look on a woman before.”

“What look?”

She sighs, eyes softening as she leans in. “You look... well, pregnant.”

The word knocks the air out of my lungs. My eyes widen and heat floods my cheeks. Pregnant? No. Absolutely not. But the idea plants itself in my mind, spreading like wildfire. I had missed my period, but I’d chalked it up to stress. This is a huge, life-changing event. Everything is riding on it. There has been some unexpected fatigue and nausea, but stress does that to you, right?

Right ?

Oh God. Tears well up, and I shake my head, trying desperately to keep my composure. Darkness circles the edge of my vision but I somehow force myself to breathe. “Whitney, I, no, I can’t be. That’s impossible.”

Whitney’s expression softens even more as she takes my hands in hers, squeezing gently. “Hey, it’s okay?—”

“It’s not!” I bark between crying spurts. “It’s not!”

“But it is possible, right? You and Luke?”

I don’t want to admit it. I can’t. I’ll lose everything. But I need to say the words aloud, if for no other reason other than to acknowledge the reality. I rasp out, “Yes. How did you know?”

“You just told me.”

I heave a breath, trying to stave off passing out. “I tried, Whitney. I tried to stay professional, I’m so sorry?—”

She wraps me in her arms and holds me, letting me cry it out. Finally, she asks, “Before you completely lose your shit, maybe we should find out for certain.”

I nod and swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Before I can process what’s happening, Whitney is already moving, grabbing her purse and speaking in a tone that brooks no argument. “I’m going to run out and get a test. Sit tight, and don’t worry about the paddles or anything else. I’ll be back in ten.”

“Whitney, you don’t have to?—”

She’s out the door before I can finish.

The room feels emptier after she leaves, the noise from the ballroom seeping through the walls and making my head pound. I pace back and forth in the tiny room, my mind racing with too many questions and no answers. Luke’s name on the auction list, the way he looked at me the last time we were together… why does everything suddenly feel so fragile, so different?

Whitney returns quicker than I expect, the small bag in her hand making my stomach flip in nervous anticipation. Her face is unreadable as she hands it to me. My heart pounds in my chest as I take it, the weight of her gaze heavy on me.

This is the same woman who’d made the fake dating rules clear from the start. Keep things professional. No emotions and definitely no crossing the line. Fake dating was supposed to be just that—fake. And yet here I am, holding the one thing that could prove I’d broken every rule.

She gives me a reassuring nod then guides me to a private restroom. I’m grateful for the privacy. As soon as the bathroom door clicks shut, I sag against it, trying to catch my breath.

The room spins around me, and I grip the edge of the sink for support. The test feels like a burning coal in my hand. If it comes back positive, everything will change, everything. Not just my life, but Luke’s, my career, and all the work I’ve been building with Whitney, not to mention the careful walls I’ve constructed around myself. I need those walls. They’ve been the only thing that’s kept my heart safe after my ex shredded it.

My thoughts turn to Luke. Will he crack a joke to diffuse the tension like he always does? Or will he just stare at me, wide-eyed and wordless? The same way I’m staring at myself in the mirror right now.

The next few minutes pass in a blur as I lean against the counter waiting for the results. My thoughts smack into each other, ricocheting in all directions, none of them making sense. When the thin blue line materializes, the world seems to tip on its axis.

Positive.

My hands shake as I press the test against my chest, a sob escaping my lips. This can’t be happening. Not now, not with everything so uncertain.

I’m supposed to be Luke’s fixer, to eliminate problems from his life, not create new ones. How is he going to look at this? As another complication, another mess that I need to clean up, or will he be happy?

The knock at the door is gentle, and I don’t have to ask to know that it’s Whitney. “Keke?”

My heart clenches as panic surges through me. I have to tell her the truth, hell, she already knows anyway. The lines I’d so carefully drawn between personal and professional have been smeared into oblivion by my own recklessness.

I have no excuses for what I’ve done. There are no explanations I can use to worm my way out of this. I’ve screwed everything up, and it’s my own fault.

I open the door, eyes swollen, body shaking. She walks in, closes the door, and pulls me into a hug without a word. That’s all it takes for me to crumble into her, needing her support more than I want to admit. Why isn’t she screaming at me, shouting about how disappointed she is? Where is my reprimand? My firing?

“I’m here,” she says, gently rubbing my back. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Whitney takes a long, measured breath, and I can almost hear her weighing her options of how to respond. When she finally speaks, it isn’t the clipped, no-nonsense tone I’m used to hearing from her.

“Keke, breathe.”

A sob escapes me. “I’m so sorry,” I manage to say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “We were supposed to keep it fake. We tried. I messed up, Whitney. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just?—”

She pulls back, searching my face. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight but I need to know where your head is at. If you need me to take over the auction, just say so. Can you handle this?”

I wipe my eyes and take a shaky breath. I can’t believe she’s willing to let me finish the night. “I need to do this. I need the distraction.”

“Okay,” she says, her tone a little suspicious. I can’t blame her for that—I’m holding on by a thread and we both know it. “I’ll be close by, just give me a signal if you need me to take over. I’ve got you covered.”

“Thank you.” She’s being so nice, so supportive, but I’m not holding out hope that my job is safe. Of course, it isn’t. I have tonight, and that’s more than I deserve.

I have to tell Luke immediately. He’ll probably bail, and that will be that. I’ll figure this out on my own. Better to rip the bandage off sooner rather than later.

I take a steadying breath and set out to find him.