Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I show no outward reaction, but inside I’m losing my shit. A hundred fucking grand? His balls keep getting bigger every day. The miserable fuck is probably dead broke, jonesing for his next high while I’m busy making the money for it.
“First of all, Lindy, as HR said, you’re not in any trouble. That’s an old policy that we never did away with, but it’s not enforced. And Victor isn’t technically an employee of the Carson Center, so it wouldn’t matter even if we did enforce it.”
Lindy nods, visibly more relaxed than she was earlier.
“With your permission, I’d like to tell your story,” Lorraine continues. “We’ll do it our way, with our own photos and quotes you get to approve. Nothing huge, just a nice little splash on our social media that news networks can share. How does that sound?”
I nod, but Lindy’s expression is grim.
“You don’t want to, babe?” I ask her.
“I just…don’t like attention. I’m not used to it.”
Lorraine says, “Sweetie, you’ll have to get used to some attention. You’re dating a pro hockey player. If we do it this way, the reporters and photographers will stop hounding you. This is our way of heading them off at the pass.”
“I get that,” Lindy says, still looking reluctant. “But how do you guys handle all the comments on social media?”
Lorraine looks confused. “We respond and say thank you to at least some of them.”
“What about the comments that I’m not pretty enough? Or that Boring is a fitting name for me?”
Lorraine turns to me, her jaw dropped.
“There will always be dicks out there, babe,” I say. “Fuck them. You’re beautiful.”
She gives me a grateful smile. “You know what I mean. The reporter called me Cinderella. That’s what so many people will see when they look at us—a poor girl rescued by a handsome prince.”
“I think you’ll be surprised,” Lorraine says. “You’re a lovely girl.” She quickly corrects herself. “Woman—sorry. We fifty-somethings think of twenty-somethings as girls. Lindy, you’re just the girl next door. People are going to love this story.”
I squeeze Lindy’s hand again. “Lorraine’s never steered me wrong. Will you trust her judgment on this one?”
She nods. “I trust you, so if you trust her…I’m in.”
“Perfect.” Lorraine pushes something aside on her untidy desk. “And Lindy, there’s one more thing…you know a lot about hockey, right?”
“Kind of.”
I nudge her gently. “You know a lot, babe. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“Well,” Lorraine says, “you are of course welcome to say no and go back to concessions, but I would like to offer you a job.”
“Me?” Lindy’s eyes widen in surprise.
“I’ve got an opening for an assistant. I’ll teach you anything you don’t know. One of your job would be to explain the game to any VIPs who come to games without much knowledge of the game.”
“She’d be great at that,” I say.
“It does sound like fun,” Lindy says, “but are you sure? You don’t need to interview anyone else?”
“I just found out I’m losing my assistant yesterday,” Lorraine says. “This could be a perfect fit for both of us. You’re already an employee here, so you’d just transfer into my office.”
“Wow, I don’t know what to say. That’s so generous of you.”
Lorraine smiles. “I know you probably need time to think it over. Why don’t you come by in a few days and I’ll have a formal offer ready for you then?”
“I’d love to.”
We wrap up with Lorraine and I walk Lindy out to the parking lot, offering her my keys to drive herself home.
“I’ll take the El,” she says, waving me off.
“No, seriously, take it. I can get a ride home with one of the guys.”
She smiles and leans up on her toes to kiss me. “I haven’t driven a car in a long time. I’m a city girl. I’ll take the El. Text me later.”
“Hey,” I say, still feeling the warmth of her lips as the wind blows around us, “I’m kind of crazy about you, you know?”
“Yeah? Ditto.”
I kiss her one more time. “I’m going to see Jonah this afternoon. Want to meet up for dinner later?”
“That sounds great. Tell Jonah I’m thinking of him.”
“I will.”
Our last kiss becomes the next to last as I kiss her again.
* * *
Jonah’s house is at the end of a suburban cul-de-sac, the driveway winding past trees and leading to a secluded brick two-story.
Lily found this house while we were on a road trip and excitedly FaceTimed Jonah to show it to him. It was everything they’d been shopping for, with six bedrooms--plenty of space for future children and overnight guests. He told her to buy it then and there.
It has to be hell living there now, with every room a reminder of her. When he opens the front door, though, he looks better than he did at the funeral.
He smiles and hugs me immediately.