Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
She shakes her head so vigorously I’m worried she’ll bring on a headache. “No. No. No. I don’t want you to resign. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to this department. You’ve done amazing things for this team.”
I breathe a deep sigh of relief, one that spreads to my bones and feels like silver and gold.
“But I’m shocked,” she adds. “Honestly, I’m probably surprised for the reasons you’d expect. I didn’t think Jones had it in him to fall in love.”
“I thought the same, too. But now that I know him, I don’t see him in any other way.” My heart warms, and a sense of contentment flows through me. Jones surprised me, too, but now I see the parts of him that have always been there, just hidden from public view, and I’m thrilled that he has so much love in him. More than that, I’m grateful that I’m the one he’s giving it to.
Lily’s not done with me, though. She pins me with a sharp stare. “Are you prepared for what this means?”
“What do you think I should be prepared for?” I ask carefully.
“It means you’ll be in the public eye in a whole new way. You won’t just be a woman introducing a press conference. You won’t just be somebody who’s casually known to a few reporters. You’re going to a whole new level. This means you’re potentially going to be out in the public as the girlfriend of a Super Bowl–winning, all-pro receiver who’s one of the best players in the National Football League.”
I gulp. When she puts it like that, it sounds so big and terrifying. But it also sounds like exactly what I’ve known all along. What I’m ready to tackle. “I’m aware of that.”
Lily points at me. “People will take pictures of you. You’ll have to pose for pictures with him. You’ll be known as Jones Beckett’s girlfriend. People will speculate about you. They’ll want to know what you have that attracted him. They’ll want to know how the ultimate playboy finally settled down.” She stops and expels a harsh breath. “Are you ready for that?”
Squaring my shoulders, I answer her truthfully. “I am.” The last several years have trained me. Managing a life in the public eye is something I’ve done for others, and I can do it for myself, too.
“And what if it goes south?”
A pebble wedges itself under my heart, pushing and prodding, a reminder that this could fall to pieces. “I’m prepared for that. And if it does, I won’t let that affect my work. Look at Kevin—I still treat him with respect, the same way I would any other reporter.”
She leans back in her chair, nodding a few more times as if she’s taking this all in. “I’ve known you for nearly eight years and admired you the whole time. And if there’s one thing I believe in, it’s your ability to make good decisions. If you have fallen in love with Jones Beckett . . .” I can’t help but smile, because it’s such a relief to have said it aloud to someone other than my best friend, and Lily continues, “And obviously you have, based on that ridiculously goofy look on your face, then it is clearly the right decision for you. I hope he knows how lucky he is to have won your heart. He better protect it like it’s as precious as the football he carries to the end zone. And if he doesn’t, he will have to answer to me.”
I smile like an idiot in love. “So this means you’re not firing me?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’ll have to quit for me to let you get away.”
I laugh. “Then neither one of us needs to worry.”
I leave as if I’m walking on a ray of sunshine, and nothing can ruin my mood.
Not a thing.
As soon as I reach my office, I text Jones to tell him the good news.
I tackle some calls to the media, then check my phone an hour later, but he hasn’t written back. He’s probably practicing. Today will be a busy day for the guys, so I carry on, flying high on hope, eager to see him again.
Later that night, when I’m home catching up on the news on my phone, his name flashes on my screen. Butterflies soar in my chest, and my fingers fly to scroll open the message.
Jones: That’s great. I’m thinking of you.
“What?” I blurt to my phone, my brow furrowed.
But that’s all he wrote. The butterflies crash-land in my belly. I read the message once more, trying to find the true meaning behind words that feel terribly empty. But I can’t. Because that’s the most un-Jones-like message he’s ever sent. He’s not an I’m thinking of you guy.
He’s all-in, or he’s not in at all.