Page 20 of Blue Line

“That’s … wait, how do you know about that?”

“SportsCenter was talking about it. They had a photograph of you and your fiancée at a gathering. Party. Whatever it was. Not somewhere I would have expected you to get photographed at.” I chuckle because same. But also, what the fuck? “You two seem cozy. I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.” I hear papers rustling. “It says she’s the sister of your teammate, Abbott. Is it true?”

“Well …”

“I know you’re a very private person, but unfortunately, this got out.”

I cringe. “Where did you say the photograph was?”

“No, don’t try to find it. Trust me. Most of the comments are nice, but there are quite a few that aren’t. Best if you don’t go looking.”

“I-I wasn’t expecting this.” This is not good. Not good at all.

Shit.

“No, this is a good thing,” John says. “I was calling because I’ve had a few companies reach out, inquiring about endorsement deals. Seems as though once word got out that you’re settling down, well, let’s just say it changed their perspectives of you, and they’re interested in you representing them now. One reached out this morning. They want both of you to be in their ad.” More papers rustle. “It’s a Christmas pajama line for Slumberly Apparel. They assured me it’s tasteful pajamas and not lingerie or underwear. It’s a great deal. With an option to also appear in their Valentine’s Day ad, and future lines.”

“Well, I don’t …”

My mind is spinning with the information he’s giving me. He’s been trying to get me more brand endorsements for years, but no dice. Now I have a fiancée, and all of a sudden, they’re willing to play ball. Not just one brand either. Multiple. I should be annoyed that they didn’t want me before. I should say no on principle, but fuck it. I’ll take the money, invest it, and set myself up for the future because there will come a time when I can’t play hockey anymore. And it would be nice not to have to worry about how I’m going to support myself and my family.

Except, how am I going to get Hadley to go along with this? Because I have a feeling that if she’s not involved, or we’re at least not still pretending to be engaged, this will all disappear, and that’s the last thing I want.

He clears his throat. “No pressure. And Wes, I get it. It’s complete shit that you being engaged changes who you are and makes you more appealing to these companies, but unfortunately, it is what it is. For whatever fucked up reason, they see you as more mature or respectable—who the hell knows which one—since you’re getting married. I don’t agree with it. You hear me? You didn’t change because you suddenly put a ring on it. But while I may not agree with it, I say we take advantage of it …”

“I hear you.” I rub my eyes. What the hell am I going to do?

He’s silent for a few beats. “Are you still coming back to Orlando in two weeks?”

“In a week.”

“The future missus going to be with you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’d love to meet her and talk to you both about these offers. Wes, this could be just the beginning.”

“Yeah …”

“I’m sure you wanted to keep your engagement private, but it’s out there now, so I think we need to use it to our advantage. In any way we can. This is good press.”

“Thanks?”

“You talk to your future wife about coming back with you. If she isn’t coming, we can meet via video conference. Slumberly Apparel wants to schedule a photo shoot soon, so we’ll have to decide if it’s something you two are interested in rather quickly. Don’t want them to change their mind.”

“Okay,” is all I can manage to get out.

John hangs up after telling me he’ll give me a call in two weeks, and I’m left staring down at my phone. What the hell was that? More importantly, what the hell am I going to do? Hadley is going to kill me if Holt doesn’t first. But at the same time, I helped her with her problem, so maybe she’d be willing to help me. Especially since she’s going to get paid to be part of this advertisement, because of course I’ll split the fee with her. I’d probably be fine giving her most of it, honestly.

I take a few deep breaths before making my way back downstairs. I peek my head into the living room.

“Hey, Hadley Jane, can I talk to you in the kitchen?”

She sets her book down, gets to her feet, and follows me into the other room.

“What’s up?”

I shove my hands in the pockets of my shorts and proceed to pace.