“I get it.” What else is there to say? She’s right. Being associated with me comes with consequences. It’s the reason I hook up with puck bunnies, because any sane woman wouldn’t want the media scrutiny or the female fandom coming after her.
Her brows pull together. “You get it?” she repeats, like she was expecting a fight, and I’ve robbed her of one.
“Yes.”
She stares at me. “Just like that?”
I nod. She doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t push it either. The fight drains out of her shoulders, and what’s left is just a tired woman standing in my hotel room wishing she were anywhere else.
“Okay. Well, I’m glad that’s settled. I’ll see you at dinner. Let’s, you know, sit at opposite ends of the table.”
Opposite ends.Not going to lie, that stings. “Good idea.”
She nods, and then she’s gone. The door clicks shut, and I’m alone with the scent of her shampoo still hanging in the air and the muted sound of the Fishette hashtag blowing up on a phone I don’t want to look at. I let my head hang in my hands.How did this get so messed up?
Dinner isat a steakhouse two blocks from the hotel. We have a long table with the whole team. It’s loud and chaotic, everyone talking over each other. The place smells of charred meat, expensive wine, and the kind of testosterone that only exists when twenty-something professional athletes are trying to out-order each other. I sit at my end, and I’m quiet. Nelly notices and doesn’t say anything. Bouch keeps the conversation going around me without making it obvious, which I appreciate. I eat my steak, laugh at the right moments, and perform the version of myself that everyone expects. Collette is at the far end with the girls. She doesn’t look at me once, not once. And I know because I checked.
Most of the guys have filtered out when Pierre slides into the seat next to me. Felix takes the other side, and my stomach tightens, here it comes. The do not touch our fucking sister lecture, the same one they said on day one when she arrived.
“We saw the stuff online today,” Pierre says. His voice is calm, relaxed even, but those hazel eyes are doing something else entirely. Pierre St. Pierre doesn’t do anything without knowing exactly what he’s doing, and right now, he’s sitting close enough that I can smell his cologne and feel the weight of every word he’s choosing carefully. “Fishette,” he says, almost amused. “Creative.”
“We’re not …” I start.
“We know.” Pierre looks at me steadily. “Collette made that very clear. There’s no way in the world she would date you.”
Oof.I keep my face neutral, but that lands like a puck to the sternum. Not that I want to date Collette.Obviously.But hearing it phrased like that, like the idea is laughable, like I’m not even in the realm of possibility, that does something to a man’s ego that I’ll have to deal with later.Alone.Possibly with whiskey.
“You’re colleagues,” Pierre continues. “You have great on-camera chemistry, which is what her job entails.”
I nod. There’s not much else to say when a man who could end your career and your face in the same evening is being reasonable.
“So don’t worry. We’re not coming after you.” He claps me on the shoulder, and his hand stays there for exactly one second too long. Just enough for me to feel thebutthat’s coming. “We know you haven’t asked for this, just like Collette hasn’t. She’s doing her job, and you’re doing yours.”
“Those fan edits are pretty convincing, though,” Felix adds from my other side, and those hazel eyes narrow on me with something his brother missed.Felix sees things.Felix is the quiet observer of the St. Pierre family, and right now, he’s observing me like he’s reading a scouting report.
“I was just having fun, you know me,” I tell them both, leaning back, casual, easy, the Fish everyone expects.
“We do,” Pierre says, and there it is. Two words that sound like acceptance but feel like a warning.We know exactly who you are.“Collette hasn’t had it easy, packing up her life in South Dakota to come with me to New York because of my drama. I appreciate you being a friend to her.”
“She’s a cool person.”
“She is,” Felix says, and there’s pride there, real pride.
Pierre stands. “Don’t fuck it up.”Fuck what up?
“Rest up, see ya tomorrow,” Felix adds, following his brother.
I sit there, staring at my empty plate for a long moment.What just happened?You got the blessing and the warning in the same conversation.
“Are you okay?” Evan materializes beside me, like he was summoned by my internal crisis.
“I think so.”
“Drink?”
“Yeah. I think I need one.”
The rooftop baris cold and mostly empty, the kind of place that’s probably packed on weekends, but on a Tuesday night in Pittsburgh, it’s just us and a bartender who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. We choose a table in a dark corner with a view of the city skyline, which is fine, I guess, if you’re not from New York, and order a couple of beers.