Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 66: Chapter 66

LIAM
It’s painful to admit my sauce went uneaten.
After a few more minutes with Emilia’s lips locked on mine, I found that her appetite wasn’t for food.
Not that I’m complaining — oh, no, not at all. In fact, the thought of her lips on mine is the only thing keeping my sour mood from getting any worse.
But then, just as I thought we might finally get some peace, the ship’s horn blares through the air, loud and jarring, dragging us both back to reality.
“Attention, all passengers!” the voice crackles over the intercom. “We are approaching Mackinac Island. Please make your way to the nearest exit as we prepare to dock. The island awaits!”
I groan, half in frustration, half in disbelief, as the moment we were building shatters. Emilia pulls away from me with a soft laugh, her eyes still shining, and I can’t help but stare at her for a second longer than I should.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I found myself standing at the entrance to Mackinac Island — next to a practically glowing Emilia, while half the ship’s passengers loitered around us, chatting and laughing loud enough to make my skull vibrate.
But honestly? I barely notice the noise.
Because Emilia is holding my hand.
Still.
And I, world-class brooder, grump extraordinaire, champion of barely tolerating people — all these are false, I’m, unfortunately, a people’s person — is smiling like an idiot. Because she’s smiling. And apparently, that’s all it takes for my brain to short-circuit now.
“Here,” she says, slipping a pair of sunglasses into my palm. “Take these. You’re frowning so hard you’re sucking the joy out of the air.”
Cue immediate loss of smile. Poof. Gone.
But also — ouch. And kind of adorable.
I clear my throat and try to act normal, which is impossible because I can still feel the ghost of her lips on mine. The kiss hadn’t just fried my appetite — it nuked my sense of time, balance, self-respect. At some point, I’m pretty sure I bumped into a signpost and said “sorry” to it because I was too busy watching her braid come loose in the wind.
Before I can embarrass myself further, Becca’s voice rings out across the dock.
“Welcome to Mackinac Island!”
She looks just as giddy as Emilia, which would’ve been cute if not for the literal army of cameramen trailing behind her with enough gear to film an Avengers movie.
“There’s no media on the cruise,” Becca continues, “but there is for each of the four stops. We’ll be collecting footage for a four-episode engagement reality series. So try not to ruin your careers — or your reputations — while we’re rolling, okay?”
Cue collective groan.
Honestly, fair warning. But I’m too distracted by Emilia tugging my cardigan tighter around herself and whispering something about how excited she was to explore the island. I nod along like a man possessed. Did I hear what she said? Not entirely. But I would follow her straight into Lake Michigan if she asked.
Still, something feels off.
Luckily, Tonia beats me to the punch. “Where’s Zane? Is he not coming?”
Becca’s smile dims ever so slightly. Just a flicker. “He came down with something last minute. He’ll sit this stop out, but don’t worry — he’ll be at the next one.”
Filming an engagement reality show without the groom? Bold strategy.
Even without spending half as much time online as Cam does, I can already see how this’ll blow up. The edits, the fan theories, the headlines practically write themselves.
And for a brief second — despite everything — I actually feel bad for her. They haven’t even said “I do,” and he’s already pulling a disappearing act.
If this is the start of forever, it’s looking pretty shaky.
Becca claps her hands, her smile snapping back into place like it never left. “Cameras start rolling now! So have all the fun you can — tonight we regroup for couple games!”
— — —
EMILIA
After a while, the group naturally splinters off. Some join a walking tour. Others rent bikes. I, however, have reached the limit of how much walking I can physically or emotionally tolerate. So Liam and I find a quiet bench overlooking the water, just slightly out of the way, and sit.
I watch people stroll past—families, tourists, a group of kids racing on scooters. Liam, meanwhile, scrolls on his phone, presumably trying to find something that doesn’t involve hiking up a hill or wandering for hours.
“My feet hurt,” I grumble, swinging them slightly off the edge of the bench. “And renting bikes still involves moving, so that’s out.”
“You want me to find you a horse-drawn carriage?” he asks without looking up.
“Don’t tempt me.”
A flash of colour catches my eye—Céline and Lacey walking side by side, with Tonia a few steps behind, now sporting lime green hair and holding a crumpled map like she’s auditioning to be a tour guide.
I’m about to wave them over, but then I remember what Liam said before the whole kissing fiasco. Before I sort of... threw myself at him. The memory creeps in like a blush I can’t control.
I fight the urge to bury my face in my hands and instead blurt out, “Hey, what were you saying about Céline earlier?”
Liam glances up from his screen, brows raised slightly. “Hm?”
“You were going to tell me something about her. Before I… you know.” My voice trails off, as if I’m hoping the ground will open up and swallow my embarrassment whole.
His gaze locks with mine, the sunlight turning the blue of his eyes almost silver at the edges. It’s the kind of look that makes me feel a little off-balance — steady but unreadable. Soft in a way that feels dangerous, but not in the bad way
Then he looks away.
“That night,” he says quietly. “Did you notice anything weird? Like... smell anything strange?”
I pause. Of course I know which night he means. But I don’t remember any weird smells.
Before I can answer, he shakes his head. “Never mind.”
I don’t ask again. I don’t bring up Stone, either—even though it’s strange that I haven’t seen him around. Not today. Not for a while.
Instead, I look at his screen and try to lighten the mood. “Let’s ride the couple’s canoe!”
Liam’s brows shoot up. “The what now?”
I point toward the floating dock, where heart-shaped canoes — yes, actual red-and-pink, ridiculously adorable heart-shaped canoes — are bobbing gently in the water. “You know. For couples. People in love. Holding hands. Whispering sweet nothings. That sort of thing.”
He stares at me. I stare back. A camera clicks nearby.
He exhales, muttering under his breath, “This feels like emotional blackmail.”
“You love it.”
He doesn't answer, but the tips of his ears turn a very obvious shade of pink. That’s a yes.
So we end up in a canoe, squished close enough that our knees touch. I pretend not to notice, but it’s all I can focus on. That and the fact that we kissed this morning and now we’re pretending we didn’t.
Except we’re not pretending. We’re really not talking about it.
Fake dating is so simple, right?
The canoe wobbles slightly, and I instinctively grab the sides. Liam notices.
“Nervous already?” he asks.
“Only because you look like you’re about to reenact a shipwreck,” I shoot back.
He picks up the oars. “Alright, Captain. Which way?”
“Left.”
He paddles right.
“No—left! Your left!”
“That is my left!”
We spin.
Then spin again.
By the third turn, I’m laughing too hard to care. “We’re going in circles.”
“It’s a technique,” he says, huffing. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“And where did you learn it from, huh? Vikings?”
He gives me a look. “Are you going to help or just keep giving commentary?”
“I think I’ll just look pretty and judge you.”
He opens his mouth to fire back—but in that second, the canoe tilts. And then, before either of us can steady it, we’re in the water.