Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“Yeah, there is.” I sit and grab a menu so I can avoid the truth about tomorrows.
I barely notice the menu as guilt sits heavily in my gut. They think I’m grieving more than I am, but correcting that assumption would hurt them more.
They like to talk about their only child. And I’m not going to deny some grieving parents the chance to take a trip down memory lane to better days.
Once we order, her mom talks about the game, then says, “Heather really loved playing at that arena.” She’s wistful and understandably so.
“She did,” I say, and so it begins.
I do my best to honor her memory. For them and for the eight years I spent with Heather, both in college and after.
Chiming in now and then, I listen as they talk about her, what she was like, what she enjoyed, what made her laugh.
I eat my pasta primavera and nod, but my thoughts are back in San Francisco, with the woman I can’t wait to see again.
20
VACATION FLING
REMY
“They love the MOH.”
The bus just dropped me off and I’m walking into the arena with my sister in my ear, her voice a little husky as she tells me how her audience is liking the videos.
“And are they saying MOH too?” I tease.
“Argh! I can’t believe Fallon is rubbing off on me like that.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank god. I was worried you were going to start talking in abbreviations.”
“Nope,” she says, then must tug the phone away, since she’s now coughing faintly in the background.
“Are you okay?”
“Perfect. I’ve got vitamin C, some tea with honey, and my mind vise to put this cold into.”
“Where you’ll crush it in seconds?” I ask as I grab the door to the employee entrance and tug it open. The second I’m inside the arena my chest flutters, as I wonder if Lake’s here too. But I try to ignore those feelings, and those questions. I’m just going to work. That is all.
“Ideally. I don’t permit sickness,” she says, all stoic and badass.
“Dude, I can’t stand germs.”
“I know, Remy. Your mind vise is stronger than mine. Miss Perfect Attendance who was never sick.”
Well, the youngest had to excel at something. But I don’t say that out loud, since it’ll sound like I was competing against Caroline as a kid. We were too far apart in age to have that dynamic. “I’m sure your mind vise has already destroyed it,” I say, then tell my sister to give me a second as I stop briefly at security, where I say hello as they scan my bag and I walk through the turnstile.
On the other side, I tell her I’m back.
“Good. And as I was saying, they love the maid of honor. They being Fresh Face, my viewers, and the producers.”
“That’s nice,” I say, since I don’t want to get too excited over something I have zero control over—whether my sister’s fans like me or not. And sure, I’m vaguely tempted to suggest that maybe Fresh Face will sponsor my fledgling podcast too, but I’m not going to start poaching my sister’s sponsors or begging for them.
“And,” Caroline adds, with a little flirt in her voice now, “I don’t mind the hot hockey player in the shots too.”
And those flutters take off, flying on little wings inside me as I head to the personnel doors, half wishing I weren’t hoping to run into Lake, and half hoping I will. This is so annoying.
“Want to know why?” she asks.
“Sure,” I say, intrigued.
“Because we’re showing that jackass. Our plan is working. The preemptive strike,” she says.
Oh right. That. The whole reason for the fake date. My sister is Machiavellian. “Yep. It totally is.”
“Jameson’s bringing Chelsea to the wedding now,” she says, venom in her tone.
My nose crinkles. This shouldn’t bother me, but it does. “His new…girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. All I know is he said she’s his plus-one, and I hate him.”
That is so very my sister. “Understandable.”
“But also, this is precisely why you needed that plus-one. To beat him to it and you did. So let’s keep beating him. Keep showing him that you’re not even thinking about him, or that damn Jumbotron. Why don’t you bring Lake to the MOH—shit fuck damn—the maid of honor fitting after all?”
My lips threaten to curve into a smile. It’s embarrassing how excited I am for extra time with him beyond the next wedding event. Extra time like…nap lessons?
Get that out of your head.
Ever since he teased me about those, it’s not come up again. It was just fun—that was all. So ridiculous of me to even think I’d be having nap lessons. Who does that? Who wants that?
And yet, I’m practically giddy as I say, “Sure, I’ll ask him.”
Since I have a good excuse to reach out.
“All right. I have to go shoot a promo for tomorrow’s episode. Wish me luck.”