Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“Oh, okay,” Maeve says, her tone light but clearly thrown off.
Rachel gives an apologetic smile. “It just looks a bit distracting on camera. Like you’re acting.”
Maeve snorts, loudly. “How ridiculous.”
“I know, right?” I jump in. “Who would do that?”
“Exactly,” Rachel agrees, glancing at the camerawoman as she resets.
Maeve shifts next to me, her smile stiff. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be distracting.”
“Honestly, this sounds cheesy, but just be yourselves,” Rachel offers, as if she’s trying to ease the awkwardness.
But what if being myself means I want to touch my wife a lot? Maybe I especially do since she hasn’t pulled the ‘that can’t happen again’ card. And maybe by making sure I protect her, that I look out for her, that we’re damn good at this charade, she won’t want to pull that card.
I hear Beckett’s voice echoing in my head: She’s trying to make her way in the world, dealing with an overbearing aunt, while you’re already a successful hockey player. If this goes south, you’ll be fine. But if this blows up, she might not be.
What if the idea to channel the Greers was wrong? Maybe I should just be myself.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is more than a game for the cameras. More than for charity. More than a pretend marriage sparked by a viral kindness campaign we didn’t expect. If I could just be myself, I’d let on how I felt. I’d admit that at Beckett’s wedding, that wasn’t simply a momentary lapse of reason. That it was the start of something. Something that’s been slowly, steadily, persistently building up strength inside me. Like a storm that was barely a few winds in the ocean and has now been upgraded to a category five, fueled by all these fucking feelings for my best friend.
But I can’t go there. Not now—not with Maeve’s wish to keep things simple. Then another voice asks—but aren’t they already complicated?
I try to shove that voice aside. I’m not ready for all the complications. And she sure as shit isn’t.
Rachel nods toward the couch, and we sit. “Let’s focus more on the viral kindness campaign,” she says. That’s why she’s here, after all. That’s what interested The Good Stuff.
“Sure,” I say, settling into the cushions.
“It’s so rare we see a true feel-good story like this. Something about doing good. We’re just so tickled at the way that’s taken off. Did you expect that kind of response?” Rachel asks.
I turn to Maeve, speaking from the heart about our night in Vegas. “No, not at all. I honestly just wanted to help out a couple we met and then to have a great time that night.”
“And we were just as surprised as anyone when it blew up the next day,” Maeve adds, her voice more natural now.
Rachel scrolls through her notes on her tablet, stopping at one. “Your team says the owner has raised…” She pauses, checking her tablet, and then looks up with an eyebrow raised and shares an eye-popping number. “And that’s since the post of you two kissing she shared.”
“That’s amazing,” Maeve says, seeming genuinely impressed.
“We’re touched,” I add.
Rachel’s gaze shifts to me. “Has charity always been important to you? You’re starting one, right?”
Maeve jumps in before I can respond. “He is, and I’m seriously proud of my husband. He’s always cared about more than just sports. He thinks about the whole athlete—their mental and physical health. And he wants kids to have all those tools too. Anxiety is a real thing, affecting so many people, including athletes, and it’s not often talked about. It’s important to talk about mental health. To destigmatize it for kids. Seeing him create this organization is so…incredible.” She looks at me, her expression fond, and I feel something new stir in my chest.
We’ve talked about Total Teamwork before, but hearing her say it all makes my heart soften more for her. Like that was possible. But evidently it is.
Rachel smiles, as if she’s noticing the shift. “And now you’ll be by his side as he moves into this new venture?”
Maeve leans against me, her hand resting on my arm, and this time Rachel doesn’t object, maybe because this time feels wholly real. “Absolutely. I’m really proud of him.”
My heart slams against my chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We weren’t supposed to go from being too touchy, to suddenly feeling warm and…honest.
I try to focus on the rest of the interview, but the way Maeve admires this side of me isn’t helping. It’s making me feel too much. It’s opening the valve on emotions I’ve been keeping at bay for some time now.
But her words are also like a wide-open window. The sun’s shining through it. And it’s illuminating the truth as I glance around my home.
It’s so much better with her here.