By the time I get home it’s after two in the morning. My feet ache and so does my heart. I’ve convinced myself that even if one of those patrons didn’t snap a picture or film a video on their phone, one of those drunken jerks will probably contact the tabloids themselves. Either way, I’ve caused Luc more trouble.
I kick off my shoes by the door and wander through the dark house, into the living room and toward the stairs. When, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Callie sitting alone in the dark, I jump. With my hand on my chest, my heart hammers as I whisper, “What are you doing?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she replies quietly. “I’m always on edge in this house. Old habits.”
She’s wrapped in a blanket, curled into the chaise by the window. Jessie and Jordan finally got rid of all the bad plaid furniture Grandma Lily had in here. The place really doesn’t look anything like it did when we lived here as kids but I understand that instinct of being nervous here. When we were kids and Grandma Lily moved to Florida, I was so terrified at night. I was convinced a serial killer was going to break in. It took years for me to be able to sleep through the night. Instead of heading upstairs, even though I’m exhausted, I move to the couch and stretch out on it, facing her.
“Bad night at the office?” Callie questions with a smile.
“Luc showed up,” I explain. “And drunk frat boys were being drunk frat boys and he tried to defend my honor.”
“Aww…” Callie coos. “Did the French Disaster knock the drunk right out of the frat boys?”
“I stopped him,” I inform her and yawn. “He would have ended up in the news again.”
“Nah. Sex sells and bloody frat boys aren’t as sexy as you getting groped on the dance floor.” She laughs at her own little dig. I roll my eyes even though she can’t see it in the dim light.
“You’re never going to stop bugging me about that photo, are you?”
“I’ll tease you until you tell me the truth,” she replies. “The whole truth and nothing but.”
She’s been hounding me since I ran out of the airport. Callie has been nothing but blunt, direct and honest her whole life and she’s got the uncanny ability to detect when other people are being anything less. Maybe it’s because I’m tired. Maybe it’s because I’m worried I made Luc’s situation worse, again, or maybe it’s just that I don’t want to feel so alone, but I take a deep breath and confess. “I slept with him and now I love him more than ever and we can’t be together because he can’t risk another TMZ story.”
Callie is quiet for so long I actually sit up to see if she fell asleep. But she’s awake, smiling softly at me as the moonlight from the window beside her dances over her face. “Can you please say something snarky and inappropriate because if you get all sentimental and mushy, my heart will break for the millionth time in a week.”
“Does he have a big dick?”
I laugh. “Thank you.”
“So… which one of you decided it was a one-night stand?”
“It was mutual.”
“So you’re both stupid,” she laments with a sarcastic smile.
“What else are we supposed to do, Callie?” I ask, trying to keep my voice low so we don’t wake Jordan and Jessie upstairs.
“Luc is one of the toughest players in the NHL,” she counters. “I don’t get why he’s letting this situation own him instead of making it his bitch.”
“What?”
She stands, the blanket falling to the floor, and reaches out with her hands. “Come with me.”
I place my hands in hers and she yanks me up and pulls me toward the tiny sunroom that Jordan had Cooper turn into an office. She flips on the overhead light and as I blink, trying to adjust, she plops down in the sleek office chair and opens Jessie’s MacBook. “The one thing I’ve learned living in L.A. and working in the industry is that it’s all about spin.”
Spin? Before I ask her what that means, she tells me as she punches TMZ Sports into the web browser. “The truth can be spun more than one way. The key is to be the one who does the spinning.”
She hits the Got a Tip button at the top and a form pops up. I lean over her shoulder and watch as she types, repeating out loud every word she writes. “I was at a restaurant in Silver Bay, Maine, called Last Call tonight. A bunch of drunk guys were harassing me and my friends and the waitress too. Out of nowhere an NHL player named Luc Richard walked over and totally saved us from the jerks. He got the bartender to throw them out and then he bought us a round of drinks and gave the waitress a hundred-dollar tip. Sweetest guy ever!”
“Okay, now you’re just lying,” I mutter.
She shrugs and gives me a devious smile. “Restaurant, bar, it’s almost the same thing. Luc’s bought me a drink before, it just wasn’t that night. And we either lie and say he gave you a hundred bucks or tell the truth and say he gave you an orgasm. You decide.”
“Hundred bucks,” I mutter.
She finishes the anonymous tip and hits submit. Then she smiles up at me. “Control the spin.”
“You’re so Hollywood,” I quip but I reach down and hug her. “I hope it works.”
“Well, it can’t make things worse,” Callie says as we head back into the living room and she puts her hands on my shoulders and gently guides me toward the stairs. “Let’s get some sleep.”
We climb the stairs together. When we reach the landing, Callie grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug. “It can still be the fairy tale you want, Rosie. Don’t give up.”
I suddenly feel like tearing up, like I always want to when Callie shows her softer side, so I change the subject. “It’s big,” I mutter, answering her teasing question from downstairs. “Really big.”
Callie giggles. “The French Disaster is packing. I knew it!”
Since the master bedroom renovations are done, Jessie and Jordan are in that room, and I have moved into Jessie’s old bedroom to give Callie her space. So as we break apart, still giggling, Callie slips into the room we used to share and I head into Jessie’s old bedroom. As I peel out of my work clothes and get settled under the covers, my cell phone chimes. I pick it up and I see a text from Luc.
I don’t want to bother you, Fleur, but I need to know you got home okay.
He thinks I’m annoyed but I’m not. I’m touched. Impulsively I decide to snap a picture of myself all curled up in bed and I send it to Luc with a simple message: Safe.
I turn off the light and snuggle deeper into the blankets. A few minutes later my phone buzzes and I grab it. You look like an angel. I wish I was there.
My heart flutters like a sparrow. If you were here I wouldn’t be such an angel. Night, Luc.
A minute later: Sweet dreams, ma Fleur.
My flower. He called me his. I fall asleep with a smile on my lips and longing in my heart.