Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Umm hmm.” She grins. “You two looked awful cozy with whispers over there. What was that about?”
“Aubs, I— I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. Then I recap as much as my jumbled mind can remember of what he told me.
“He’s in love with you.”
“What? That’s absurd. We’ve known each other a month. He’s not in love with me.”
“He’s falling then. Hard. I can see it in the way he looks at you. For the record, it’s the same way he’s always looked at you, just more… intense if I had to put a name to it.”
“What am I going to do?”
“I’m not sure what the issue is here, Emma.”
“He’s this famous athlete, and I’m me. Emma, who helps run an animal shelter. He can have any woman that he wants, and he has had plenty.”
“Maybe so, but how many has he been reported to have been with since you?”
“None.”
“One,” she says at the same time.
My head whips up. “Who?” Is that jealousy that I feel?
“You.” That’s right. Date eight I think it was, we picked up takeout and brought it back to his place. He convinced me he needed help with learning to use his air fryer. Turns out he doesn’t even own an air fryer. Anyway, I ran in to get the food, to try and keep the fans at bay, and I was photographed getting into his SUV. They didn’t get my face and the media doesn’t know who I am. At least not that we’re aware of.
“Right,” I say when I break out of my memories to find her standing there staring at me with her hands on her hips.
“What are you afraid of?” Her voice is softer this time.
“He’s going to break my heart.”
“First of all, you don’t know that. Second of all, when this”—she waves her hands wildly in the air—“whatever this is, is over, your heart is going to be broken.”
I nod. “But if I let myself fall, it’s going to be so much worse.”
“Oh, Em.” She comes to me and puts her arms around my shoulder, giving me a side hug. “You’ve already fallen. You just won’t admit it. Look at me and my cocky bastard. He’s famous, and I’m just me, running an animal shelter, and we make it work. He loves me. I love him. It’s that simple. It’s not about money or fame or anything else. It’s about the heart.”
I give up on any pretenses to hide it and nod. “I know.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard. Just let it happen. If it works out, great. If not, you won’t have the what-ifs. Trust me. I had two years of what-ifs and that’s not something you want to do. I had what-ifs and a broken heart. I would have much rather just had one of those. Take the chance. Go out there and show that bastard how lucky he is to have your attention and see where it leads you.”
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know if I’ll do it tonight, or here for that matter, but yeah. I’m going to do it. Thanks, Aubs.” I give her a hug. “Oh, Landon said he would give me a ride home.”
“Perfect. You don’t have to do it here. Do it in the car, or at your place. Invite him in for a drink, or you know, invite him to stay.” She wags her eyebrows.
“Too soon.” I laugh.
“Is it?” She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the door. “Come on, before they think we ran away.” She leads us back to the table, dropping my hand just as we’re back in eye sight. I take my seat and try to catch up on the conversation between the men.
Not a minute later, Harvey is delivering our food and I concentrate on that. These burgers are so damn good. I polish off my food in no time, just eating and listening to the conversations around me. I chime in where I see fit, all the while my mind is running through tonight. Do I ask him in? How do I tell him I’m ready for a real date? One I say yes to for no other reason than to just spend time with him.
The next hour passes in a blur for me. In my head, I’m deciphering every look, every touch, every moment we’ve shared. I take part as I can, trying to act as though my head isn’t spinning and my heart isn’t racing. To be honest, day one, I wanted him. I just wouldn’t allow myself to voice it. I was so afraid of being just another notch that I held him at arm’s length, and my arms are tired. I can’t hold him back anymore, and I don’t want to. Aubrey is right. I would rather have a broken heart than what-ifs. Who knows, maybe some of his luck will rub off on me and the broken heart will never happen. Either way, I’m tired of pretending.