Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
My sister snorts in amusement. “Oh, you totally miss me.”
“Just a little,” I admit. “How’s Felicity? She’s the one I really miss.”
Again, Emory chuckles. “She’s fine, and she misses her Aunt Jenna too. Wants to know when you’re coming for a visit or when we can come for a visit. I promised her we’d come this summer after the season’s over.”
“She’s going to love it,” I gush. “It’s so different from California and Arizona. The mountains here are stunning, and the city is so cool.”
I eat while we chat, mostly about my job and all the exciting things I’ve been learning every day.
I tell Emory about my position as media liaison. My job is to coordinate with all aspects of media pertaining to the Pittsburgh Titans. I coordinate with the vice president of social media and marketing, the news reporters, and print journalists—who, admittedly, I have a special affinity for since my career was in print news editing. This last week has been mostly reading handbooks, meeting with department heads, and learning everything I can, not only about the history of the organization, but about Brienne’s vision for the future. She wants to make sure our story is a true success and one that is portrayed as such to the world. And she’s well aware that all eyes are watching, which puts pressure on me to make sure our messaging is consistent.
“I had some reservations about whether I would ever be interested in anything other than print news, but my God, this is all so fascinating… the different elements that go into marketing and putting out appropriate press on the team.”
“It sounds like you’re the solid hinge that holds it all together,” Emory says fondly, and I hear the pride in her voice.
“A new hinge… but I think that’s a good way to describe it.”
We share a laugh. “All else good?” she asks casually.
It’s an open-ended question that could pertain to anything, but I know my sister is specifically asking how I’m doing mentally and emotionally. This has been a huge adjustment, taking on a new job in a strange city without any family or friends around. More difficult than just putting myself in front of other people. The last several months living in Arizona with Emory, we considered a simple trip to the grocery store a huge victory. To weather the looks of people I’d pass in the aisles as they took in my scars, people who would either avert their eyes in revulsion or look at me with pity. Putting myself out there socially and learning how to be part of an organization and a community has been almost as hard as recovering from my physical injuries.
But I figured that since I was strong enough to come back from the brink of death, I can absolutely figure out how to be normal again in my interactions with people.
“I’m more than good,” I assure her. “Brienne is amazing to work for, and I really feel like an integral part of this team. I mean, Emory… we’re making history in the sporting world.”
“That you are,” she agrees. “It’s a good thing Jett’s been teaching you about hockey,” she adds impishly.
“No kidding!” Emory’s boyfriend, Jett, had taken me under his wing and made it his mission when I was in Arizona to turn me into a hockey aficionado. I’m now able to converse on a fairly educated level about the sport.
“And have you been going out at all?” she asks with enough insinuation that I know she’s talking about one person.
And I’m not going to give her the satisfaction just yet.
I’ll make her work for it.
“Yeah,” I exclaim joyfully. “Sophie and I have been out to eat a few times.”
“Go anywhere else?”
“Sure… I’ve managed to locate the grocery store, pharmacy, and an amazing little coffee shop all within a few blocks of my apartment.”
Emory growls. “I’m talking about Gage. Has he called you?”
I chuckle and try to play it off, but I’ll admit to the small kernel of disappointment when I have to tell her, “No, he hasn’t called. Why would he?”
“Because there was a connection. A spark. You told me so.”
“I didn’t say that exactly. I told you he was a nice guy who worried that he offended me and told me I had pretty eyes.”
“Whatever,” she dismisses. “I think there’s something there.”
“How can you even say that?” I grouse. “He never even asked for my phone number.”
“Maybe he’s shy,” she suggests.
“Maybe he has a girlfriend.” That’s truly what I think. He was being nice to me and is in no way interested, probably because he’s already involved with someone. A guy that gorgeous and genuine just isn’t single.
I hold back a wistful sigh. It was silly to imagine that there could’ve been something between us. Still, I’m incredibly happy with this first week in Pittsburgh, and I know I’ve made the right choice for my life.