Shit. Because he forgot. “I would’ve told you,” he said with a shrug.
“When? After it happened?” Harvey shook his head. “This is the best sort of publicity there is and Sheridan’s missing out on the media attention—and so are you, especially before this game with the Raiders. Make you and your wife look extra kind before you go out on the field and massacre your arch-nemesis.”
“I can’t massacre Wallace. But we will kick their asses.”
“You’d better hope,” Harvey muttered, some of that easygoing charm disappearing for a moment before he seemed to straighten himself out. “You’re going to this painting event tonight, correct?”
“Yeah, of course. Though Sheridan doesn’t know.”
Harvey frowned. “Why not?”
“It’s a surprise.” He wanted to see that gorgeous smile light up her entire face when he walked into her gallery. Wanted her to run to him and hug him close, with a promise of an extra special thank-you for him later that evening. Besides, he owed her. He’d made a deal with her back at the restaurant opening and though no one had lost that bet, he still felt like he should do this for her.
There were a lot of things Jared wanted to do for Sheridan.
“I’ll get plenty of media in attendance.” Harvey pulled out his cell and started scrolling. “I’m calling in the forces so they’re out there with their cameras aimed and ready.”
Jared reached for Harvey’s phone and tried to pull it right out of his hands, but Harvey was faster than he looked. “Don’t call in a bunch of paps. I hate those guys.”
“Just a few, then. The ones who still like you.” Harvey sent him a meaningful look. “It would be perfect publicity for you: Jared Quinn and his do-gooder wife. The timing is impeccable. I’ll have to compliment Sheridan on Sunday when I see her. She is coming to the game, correct?”
“Of course, she is.” Talking to Harvey burst the protective little bubble he and Sheridan had been living in. Reminding him that their marriage was nothing but a fraud put together to further advance his career and improve his image.
He really, really hated that.
“Did she plan this to fall just before the game with the Raiders?”
“No.” He didn’t think so. She’d had the painting for charity class lined up for months, before they even got married. It was a part of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, in honor of her grandmother who had breast cancer and conquered it.
“Well, I must say this is the perfect opportunity to smash your naysayers for good.” Harvey grinned, clapping Jared on the back. “You done good with this one, Jared. You’re on track to being number one in everyone’s hearts again. So everything’s cookin’ at home, too, hmm?”
Jared grimaced. “What do you mean?”
“Little woman keeping you happy?” Harvey winked. Fucking winked. “You’ve been in an excellent mood lately.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
The grin disappeared. “Don’t play dumb with me. You were a growling bear up until about two weeks ago. I’m figuring that’s because Sheridan’s been keeping the home fires lit?”
“I’m not going to talk to you about what happens between Sheridan and me at home.” He sounded defensive to his own ears, which was ridiculous. “Nothing happens between us at home,” he added lamely.
“Sure.” The knowing look Harvey gave Jared irritated the ever-loving shit out of him. “Tell Sheridan I said hello.”
Unease slipped through Jared as he watched Harvey walk away. He didn’t like what Harvey implied. Like he knew something was up between them, as if he were in on the big secret. Yeah, Jared had been a complete grouch prior to his and Sheridan’s finally having sex, but he didn’t think everyone was aware of the change in him. Or why that change happened.
Yet Harvey behaved like he knew. And Jared didn’t like that.
Not one bit.
Chapter Fourteen
“There are photographers outside.” One of the volunteers blinked at Sheridan, the fear in her gaze unmistakable. She shook her head, clearly frazzled by the unwanted attention. “They were asking me questions about you and Jared.”
Sheridan sagged, staring at the front door of her gallery. Her students would start arriving at any minute. Most of them were breast cancer survivors, including two who were just now in remission. Some would be accompanied by a friend or family member, and they were all going to paint something pink and girly and fun in celebration of life after cancer.
And in honor of her grandmother, who’d suffered through breast cancer and still managed to come out the other side strong and healthy. She’d lived another fifteen years after the initial diagnosis, only to die of typical old age in her sleep.
That was so the way Sheridan wanted to go.