Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 51: Chapter 51

LIAM
THIRTY MINUTES AGO
I have to force myself to stay put and not chase after her.
Frustration knots in my chest, tightening like a fist around my ribs. It makes no sense.
Why do I care this much?
If Emilia wants to run back to Zane, that’s her choice. She doesn’t owe me anything.
All she has to do is fix my image — turn me back into the media darling I used to be. That’s it. Simple.
Hell, wouldn’t it be easier for her if she just left me in the dust and rode off into the sunset with her ex?
Then why does the thought make me feel like I’ve just been checked into the boards. Hard.
A million excuses race through my mind, but none of them make sense. None of them feel right.
None of them are enough to make this up to Emilia.
“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair, leaning against the railing. For a second, I consider throwing myself over just to escape this mess.
The party is still going strong behind me, even though Becca and Zane disappeared over an hour ago. The music is loud, pounding through the night, which is probably why I don’t hear the footsteps until a sharp poke lands on my side.
I glance over my shoulder and raise an eyebrow.
Lacey. Half-drunk, swaying slightly in her heels, holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey.
I realise I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen her completely sober.
She lifts the bottle toward me in a silent offer.
I shake my head. “I’d rather not.”
She sighs dramatically. “More for me, then.”
Lacey leans on the railing beside me, tilting her head back for another sip. “You shouldn’t just stand here sulking. Go grovel for her forgiveness or something.”
I grimace. “You saw that?”
“Kind of hard not to.” She smirks. “I was busy admiring all the fine, emotionally unavailable men in the room, and then — bam — there’s sweet, lovely Emilia slapping the lights out of you. Fun times.”
I roll my eyes. “Did you come here just to make fun of me?”
“Kind of. Not really. But mostly.” She squints at me, then snorts. “You’re pitiful. Like a sad little kicked puppy.”
“Ha. Fucking. Ha.” I deadpan.
Lacey just grins and takes another swig of whiskey.
“So, you’re not gonna tell me what brought trouble to paradise?” she prods, tilting her head.
“I’d rather not, actually.” I repeat.
She hums, eyeing me like she’s putting pieces together. Then— “Oh god. It’s not jealousy, right?”
Silence stretches between us, the only sound is the slow slosh of whiskey in her bottle as she swirls it.
Then she groans, throwing her head back. “Ah, fuck, Liam. You can’t be serious.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.
She sees right through me.
“I’m so telling your sister about this.”
I grimace. Sometimes I forget why Lacey and I are even close in the first place.
We met during a shoot, but she somehow hit it off with my older sister, who had tagged along for the day out of boredom. Now, every time I drag myself home — which is rare — Julie won’t shut up about how Lacey’s too busy to hang out with her.
Still, I refuse to play into her hand. “Which of them?”
Lacey sways slightly, and for a second, I consider steadying her. Then I remember Julie and Maya complaining about how she’s been drinking way more since the divorce.
“I’ll tell Julie you said that,” she huffs.
I roll my eyes but let my voice soften as I place a hand on her shoulder. Not to steady her, of course. “Sure. Did you actually come over here for something?”
She’s not an idiot — despite what her ex-husband might’ve thought. She sees right through my concern and slaps my hand away, frowning.
“Yeah, I wanted to ask if you’ve seen Celine.”
“She might be in another orgy.”
“That was my first guess, too,” Lacey sighs, rubbing her temples. “But usually she tells me about it first.”
That gets my attention. “Since when do you lose track of Celine?”
“Ever since she got that part-time job. She’s been disappearing on me.”
I raise a brow. “A job? She doesn’t even look like she enjoys her current one.”
“I know, right? But turns out Celine’s actually hardworking — when she has a goal. She’s been saving up for a new Ferrari for ages. Not sure what kind of part-time job gets you that kind of money, though.”
Lacey pats my shoulder in farewell before turning on her heel, still drinking straight from the bottle, and I hate the way my stomach twists at the sight.
I should probably tell Julie.
Before I can follow her and force her into bed, my phone buzzes. I glance at the caller ID and grin.
“Hey, Tessie Bear.”
“I’m really feeling the love with how often you call to check in,” Tess deadpans.
In the background, I hear papers shuffling and the scratch of her pen. I pull my phone away from my ear to check the time.
12:09 AM.
My lips press into a frown.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m an asshole for not calling more. I’ll do better.” I sigh. “Oh, and tell Cam I’m ignoring his messages. But, Tessie… why the hell are you still at work?”
The scribbling doesn’t stop, so I know she’s only half-listening. A few beats pass before she finally catches up.
“Been on Legal’s ass since yesterday. Trying to get those articles about Em taken down, but it’s a nightmare. They’ve gone viral, and even if we remove them, it won’t change much. Best we can do is copyright the family photos they used.” She pauses, frustration creeping into her voice. “For some reason, Legal’s dragging their feet on pressing charges. But did you read that article? It’s a blatant invasion of privacy. God knows where they even got those pictures from. Either Em’s family sold her out — which is so fucking unlikely — or someone broke into their house.”
“Which is also unlikely.”
“Still, if we can prove it, we’ve got them on breaking and entering.”
I exhale through my nose, shaking my head. “Okay, I get it. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re working this late. None of that is in your job description.”
At my annoyed tone, Tess just laughs, soft and teasing. I can practically see her running a hand through her hair.
“Do you ever hear yourself? You’re freakishly protective,” she muses. “Probably from growing up with ten sisters or something. It’s kind of adorable.”
I roll my eyes. “Five sisters. And stop avoiding the question.”
“Are you this protective of Em, too?” Tess ignores my question completely. “I hope not. Careful there, Liam. She’s not my favourite person right now, but I don’t play when it comes to her. Break her heart, and I’ll cut you into tiny pieces, stuff you in a duffel bag, and drop you somewhere in the Pacific.”
“Yeah, message received loud and clear. Are you done now?”
“Kind of.” She pauses. “How’s Em taking everything?”
I let her dodge the question — just this once.
“She didn’t take it well at first, but everyone here is being very careful not to bring it up.” Not that they had much of a choice.
I don’t think too hard about that. Or why I did it.
“Good,” Tess mutters. “One wrong word from anyone, and I’ll have Legal tear their pretentious asses apart, too.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, sure. Would’ve been nice if her best friend actually checked in, but hey, what do I know?”
Silence. A long one.
Then, Tess sighs. “Low blow.”
“You deserved it.”
“Fair.” She sighs, and I try not to think too hard about how tired she sounds. The kind of tired that sits heavy in your bones. She’s not wrong, though. Growing up surrounded by sisters basically turned me into a walking, talking guard dog. Always watching. Always ready to step in.
“I’m being immature,” she adds quietly. “This is all so stupid. But I’ll call her, I guess. I just—” Her voice dips lower. “I worry, too. She wanted that part of her life buried. Deep. And now I’m terrified this mess will make her revisit shit that doesn’t need revisiting.”
I don’t say anything. Tessa doesn’t need me to fix it. She just needs space to breathe through it.
But I’m listening.
And maybe I’m selfish, but every time she talks about Emilia, it makes me want to know her more. Not the picture-perfect version she tries to paint, never shaken, never hurt. Her.
I want to know what makes her laugh when no one’s watching.
I want to know why she collapsed into me the way she did when that article came out — like I was her only lifeline.
I want to know why she won’t let me in.
Or maybe… why I keep stepping back the second she tries.
But I already know that answer. And I try not to think about it.
There’s a long pause, and I almost think she’s hung up. But then, finally — her voice comes through, quieter this time.
Tessa, being Tessa, swerves the conversation in another direction. One that makes my blood boil.
“Lyle ditched me."
Ah. There it is.
I exhale, rolling my shoulders back. “That asshole,” I mutter.
Tessa lets out a breathy laugh, but there’s no real humour in it. “Yeah, well. I’m trying really, really hard not to be mad about it. But it’s whatever. It’s not like it makes a difference — I would’ve just gone home and kept working anyway. At least here, I’ve got free coffee and a half-decent view.”
She says it like it’s no big deal, like she’s fine. But I know her too well.
I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, she rushes ahead. “Anyway, I should go. I’ll call Emilia later. I’m just being silly. And…” She pauses. “Just be there for her, okay? Em’s never had anyone stay when everything goes to shit.”
And before I can promise her that I will — before I can say anything — true to form, she hangs up before I can get a single word in.
Classic Tessa. Always saying the right thing, right before she disappears.
I stare at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering over the call button.
She’s never had anyone stay.
She does now. Whether she knows it or not.
So I push off the railings and run a hand through my hair.
Time to do some grovelling.