Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“You do,” I assure her. “It was just a weird situation neither Grammercy or I knew how to handle.” I gaze down into my nearly empty mug as I add in a softer voice, “And you’re the only person who knows the way I feel about him now. I hope that feels like best friend privilege.”
“It does,” she says, taking her turn with the “gentle” tone. “But I shouldn’t be the only one who knows, Elly. Grammercy should definitely know about that, especially considering he’s obviously in love with you, too.”
I glance up sharply. “You don’t know that, Mack. Neither do I.”
“Girl, pictures don’t lie. Neither does video. That man is gone on you.”
“That was all staged,” I say, pushing back, no matter how much a part of me wants to believe it.
But if I believe it, if I let myself get swept up in the magic Grammercy and I have been making together, then I’ll have no choice but to come clean.
And coming clean has the potential to kill that magic pretty darned quick…
“The choreography was staged,” Makena counters, “but the emotion was real. I could tell. No offense, babes, but neither you nor your honey pie is that good at acting. No one is. When actors have the kind of onscreen chemistry you two do, they’re always banging behind the scenes. Always.”
I open my mouth to deflect, to make a joke, or change the subject. Instead, I hear myself blurt out, “Okay, but what if I’m in love and scared and certain I’ve already ruined it? What if I’m a horrible person?”
“What?” She shakes her head hard, sending her blond curls flying around her face. “Eloise Marianne Thibodeaux, you are not a horrible person. You are the sweetest, classiest, most genuine and honest person I—”
“I lied,” I cut in, the “honesty” part guilting me into spilling it all.
In between fighting the urge to hyperventilate, I tell her everything—about the secret podcast, fangirling so hard over Grammercy that the entire “Love on Ice” audience knows he’s my dream guy, and the fact that I may have fudged the truth about how well I “knew” him when we first met.
“Oh my God,” Makena breathes when I’m done, her jaw slack. “That’s insane!”
“I know.” My hands fly to cover my face. “I should have told him. Right away. I never should have kept this a secret for so long.”
“No, not that part,” she says, excitement building in her tone. “That you’re Luvvy Puck! What the hell, girl! I had no idea. You sound totally different on the radio.”
I peek through my fingers. “You’ve heard the show? No way.”
“Yes, way! Skye, my food prep girl, is a hockey maniac. She plays your show all the time while we’re in the kitchen, getting ready to start the day. She can’t get enough.” Makena leans across the cushions to smack my arm. “Damn, woman, you’re like a Friday burrito!” I frown and she explains, “Chock-full of unexpected ingredients. Friday is ‘use up the leftovers in the fridge’ day. Shit. So…how long have you been leading this double life?”
“Three years?” I squeak. “But I’m not doing it anymore. I stopped as soon as Mimi and I moved in with Grammercy. It felt wrong to keep recording when he had no idea that was part of my life.”
She nods, sobering. “Yeah, I get that. A lie of omission is still a lie.”
“Yeah.” My shoulders inch closer to my ears. “And I also just…didn’t know what to say. I don’t want to lie to my listeners, either, and I knew they would smell a rat if I stopped talking about Grammercy all of a sudden, so…”
Makena hums beneath her breath. “You did talk about him a lot.”
I wince. “Yeah. I did. An embarrassing amount, looking back, but at the time…” I drain the last of my toddy, needing the liquid courage. “When I first started the podcast, I was spending so much time at home on my own while Mimi was napping or already in bed for the night. It got lonely sometimes. But hockey was always there to keep my mind off the hard parts of being a single mom, to keep me company. And then…so was Grammercy.”
I exhale a whiskey-fueled sigh. “From the first time I saw him play, I was hooked, Mack. And yeah, part of it was that he’s an amazing player, but mostly it was just…him. His smile, his story, the way he seemed like this kind, old-fashioned, stand-up guy in a world full of immature assholes. He became my secret crush, and then, when I started the podcast, my not-so-secret-crush…” I shake my head. “And his forearms really did it for me. I might have done an entire twenty-minute episode about them at one point.”
Makena stares at me for a long moment.