Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player Chapter 150

EMILIA

Chicago is — to absolutely no one's surprise — not the friendship vacation we both needed.

Tessa's already fanned herself with her hand at least five times before she groans, "Why's it so fucking hot?"

"It's nineteen degrees, Tess."

"I'm Russian," she mutters dramatically. "That's nineteen degrees too high."

"No one told you to wear a turtleneck and an overcoat."

"That guy on the weather forecast better hope we never cross paths," she grumbles, pulling at her collar. Then she checks her phone and pouts. "Where's your friend? I'm going to have a heatstroke before she gets here."

"Lacey will be here in a few minutes. You're going to love her—she's amazing."

"I'll pretend I didn't get jealous when you said that."

We're standing outside the airport, and we only landed about thirty minutes ago. The city smells like rain and traffic and nostalgia, and all I can think about is getting back home—to our bed, Liam's arm slung over me, strawberries and chocolate waiting on the nightstand.

Tessa lets out a long, dramatic sigh, tugging at her sleeves. "You think she'll notice if I take my coat off and faint in public?"

"She might applaud you for the performance."

She shoots me a glare, but there's no real heat in it.

Then, through the blur of cars and arriving passengers, I spot a familiar figure waving wildly from across the road.

"Lacey!" I call, grinning before she even reaches us. She's exactly the same — big sunglasses, messy bun, that sunshine energy that feels like a hug before she even opens her arms.

"Em!" She squeals, running straight into me with enough force to knock the air out of my lungs. "You look so happy! Like, disgustingly in love happy. I hate it."

"Missed you too." I laugh, squeezing her back.

She pulls away to study me like a piece of art, eyes narrowing. "Oh my God, you're glowing. He's treating you right, isn't he? Tell me he's treating you right or I'll—"

"—fly back to New York and murder a professional athlete?" I finish for her, smirking.

"Exactly." She beams, then turns to Tessa. "You must be the Russian bestie I've heard way too much about."

Tessa offers a small, amused smile. "Depends on what you heard."

"Mostly threats," Lacey says cheerfully. "And one really dramatic story about a blender?"

Tessa groans. "Oh, that."

They're already getting along — which is both comforting and mildly terrifying.

"Alright," Lacey says brightly, clapping her hands. "Let's get you two settled. Julie's waiting in the car. We've got the whole day before the game tomorrow night — how about shopping and getting our hair done?"

Before I can answer, Tessa lights up like a kid at Christmas. She grabs Lacey's hand, chattering away as the two of them drag her suitcases toward the car like they've known each other for years.

I sigh, falling into step behind them. Why do I even try?

Pulling out my phone, I type a quick message to Liam — landed safe and sound. He and the team touched down a couple of hours before we did. He mentioned they'd have a team meeting and practice right after, so I don't expect a reply.

Still, I linger on his chat for a moment before slipping my phone back into my pocket and grabbing my suitcase, smiling to myself.

By the time I catch up, Tessa and Lacey are already deep in conversation — something about hair gloss treatments and a TikTok filter that makes you look "mysteriously French."

Lacey glances back at me with a grin. "We're thinking blowouts and iced lattes first, then maybe Michigan Avenue for some retail therapy. You in?"

I nod, laughing. "You had me at iced lattes."

"Good," Tessa says, looping her arm through mine as we reach the car. "Because after the emotional rollercoaster of you moving out, I deserve a little shopping-induced serotonin."

"You'd do anything for an excuse to overspend," I say. "This has nothing to do with me."

Tessa shoots me a warning look. "One more word and that signed paperback you wanted for your birthday disappears from my cart forever."

Julie, already waiting behind the wheel, waves the moment she spots us. She looks as bright and bubbly as ever, her grin so wide it's impossible not to smile back.

"There she is!" she squeals. "My favourite girl—well, second favourite. Emilia still tops the list, but only barely."

Tessa gasps dramatically as she climbs in. "Excuse me? I had Liam bring you macarons last time!"

Julie presses a hand to her heart. "And I still think about them every night before I sleep, babe. But Em's cookies have a special place in my heart.

I laugh, buckling in beside her. "You two are unbelievable."

Julie beams. "You have no idea how happy I am you're both here. If you weren't, Lacey would've forced me to binge that new reality show she's obsessed with. Apparently she thinks all the guys on it are hot."

"They are," Lacey says calmly, scrolling through her phone. "You just have no taste."

That earns a round of laughter, and before I know it, the car is filled with chatter, the kind that feels light and warm. By the time we hit Michigan Avenue, we're already in full girls' day mode — hair appointments booked, lattes in hand, and shopping bags multiplying like rabbits.

Tessa and I end up walking a little behind the others, arms linked and iced coffees in hand. She looks happy for once—cheeks flushed, hoops bouncing—but there's something distant in her eyes.

"So," I nudge her lightly. "You've been quiet for a whole ten minutes. That's either impressive or terrifying."

She sighs. "Neither. I was just thinking."

"Even worse."

She pinches my arm. "You're so rude. I shouldn't expect anything less from you."

"What did he do this time?" I ask, skipping over her jab.

She doesn't even pretend not to know who I mean. "Do you know he's always on his phone now?" she says, waving her latte. "I don't mind, since he replies to my texts faster now, but still."

I raise a brow. "You mean like how you're always on your phone?"

"That's different," she argues immediately. "I'm talking to you."

"Barely."

"Or Theo. But that's not the same thing."

"Mm-hmm." I take a sip of my drink.

She shoves me playfully. "I hate you."

"No, you don't. And maybe," I say, glancing at her, "you should talk to him about it."

Tessa rolls her eyes. "When did I say it bothers me? It's just... weird. Not like him."

I don't push it. There's a tiny frown between her brows she's pretending isn't there.

"Whatever makes you happy," I say quietly, looping my arm through hers again as we step into another store, the doorbell chiming softly behind us.

Later, while Tessa disappears into a fitting room, Lacey wanders over to where I'm half-heartedly flipping through a rack of scarves. She lifts one — pale pink, soft silk — and runs her fingers along the edge, like she's thinking about something else entirely.

"It's cute," I say.

"You think so?" She holds it up to her neck, studying her reflection. The corners of her lips twitch, but her eyes stay distant. "It looks horrible on me. I look washed out."

I tilt my head, then reach for another one — deep red. "Try this instead. You're more of a red than a pink."

"But what if I wanted the pink?" she says lightly, still holding both scarves. She presses the pink one to her throat again. Her smile stays, but it feels a little... careful.

"You could still wear it," I say. "You'd just look—"

"Like an extra in Dracula?"

I laugh. "I was going to say pale, but that works too."

We both giggle and move down the rack, touching fabrics and pretending to be decisive. I'm not really paying attention until I find a blue scarf that would look perfect on Liam — the exact shade that makes his eyes look unfairly good. The thought makes me smile.

Then Lacey's voice cuts softly through the moment. "Do you ever feel like some things just aren't meant for everyone?"

I glance at her. "You mean like crop tops?"

That gets a quiet laugh, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "No. I mean... when you want something for so long it starts to feel like maybe it's just not supposed to happen for you."

I take a second before answering. "Yeah," I say finally. "Sometimes that's true. Like, I wanted to marry Zane so badly once, and... well." I hold up my bare ring finger with a small smile. "Guess that dream was better off staying a dream."

She studies me quietly, the pink scarf still tangled in her hands.

"But other times," I add, "it's not about giving up — it's just about finding another way to get there. Different route, same place."

For a moment, Lacey just nods, her smile faint but real this time. Then she swaps the pink for the red scarf and loops it around her neck.

"Red suits you better anyway," I tease.

She laughs softly. "Maybe you're right."

Julie's voice cuts through from the next aisle. "Okay, ladies, mani-pedis or hair day first?"

Lacey laughs and links her arm through mine. "Hair day. Always hair day."

And just like that, the moment fades — replaced by the chatter, the shopping bags, and the smell of overpriced espresso that fills the rest of our afternoon.