Dream Girl Drama (Big Shots #3)

Chapter Six

Now

“An actual zebra with a whistle would be better at your job, ref!” Chloe shouted at the top of her lungs, her sentiments echoed by the seventeen thousand Boston Bearcats fans in the arena behind her. “How do you sleep at night?”

“If he’s smart? With one eye open,” Tallulah drawled beside her in the front row. “You are easily the most terrifying fan to ever wear a pink, bedazzled, personalized jersey.”

“Thank you,” Chloe whispered, her voice catching a little when Sig used the sleeve of his uniform to wipe away the blood coming from his nose, as casually as one scratched an itch. She slapped the glass partition to get the ref’s attention. “Last time I checked, slashing was a penalty! Did the visitors pay you in cash or Venmo?”

“At least Sig got to punch the other guy in the face,” Tallulah pointed out, even as her gaze remained glued to her fiancé, Burgess Abraham, who defended the crease with his signature scowl.

“Not hard enough,” Chloe muttered, realizing she was nervously worrying the hem of her pink Gauthier jersey and tried to stop, but in the dozen or so Bearcats games she’d attended since moving to Boston, she’d never actually seen blood oozing from Sig’s face. Shouldn’t he be taken out of the game? Or at the very least be examined by the trainer?

As if sensing her spiking nerves, Sig looked over at her and winked.

I’m fine , he mouthed.

Chloe melted back into her seat with a relieved exhale. Of course Sig was fine. It was just a little blood and her... confidant/guardian/future stepbrother/etc. could handle anything—and she meant anything . Low water pressure in her shower? Sig fixed it. She didn’t know which combination of trains and buses to take to the conservatory? Sig arrived with coffees and showed her the perfect route. Her landlord banged on her door, demanding she pay the rent and she’d already spent half of it on cream blushes? Sig knew exactly what to do.

He was so wonderful, sometimes she cried about it in the shower.

The only thing Sig couldn’t do was kiss her.

Chloe was trying to smile through the pressure in her breast when a man knelt in front of her, smiling in an apologetic way. “Sorry, I just don’t want to block the game,” he said, gesturing at the furious matchup taking place over his shoulder. “I’m Irving Randell from the Boston Globe . I don’t officially report on the Bearcats yet, but I’m hoping to one day. Right now, I’m kind of a grunt. However, I do moderate the message boards.” He dipped his chin at Chloe. “Have to say, you’ve been a real topic of conversation lately, Miss...”

Chloe started to answer, but stopped when Tallulah leaned over with a wary expression. “A topic of conversation how, exactly?”

“Usually, the hockey message boards are trade speculations or fans complaining about calls from the night before—”

“As they should,” Chloe said earnestly.

“Yes. But a thread popped up recently titled ‘Pink Jersey’ and the response was...”—he made an explosive sound—“... wild. It’s the longest message board thread to date. As in, ever . In the history of the Globe website.” He squinted at Chloe. “You’re at every single home game and your presence has even been noted by fans watching from home. Mainly, because of your... enthusiasm in the stands. People want to know who you are.”

Chloe was distracted by the violent scuffle taking place over the man’s shoulder. Thankfully, Sig wasn’t involved in this one. “Oh, I’m—”

“Wait a sec, Chloe,” Tallulah interrupted, squeezing her arm. “Maybe you should talk to Sig before you answer any questions.”

Irving raised a dark eyebrow. “So you do know Sig Gauthier? Personally?”

The fascination in the man’s tone finally captured Chloe’s attention. Had he actually said there was a thread on the Boston Globe website concerning her pink jersey? “If people want to know where I had my jersey made, I’ll share the Etsy shop!” She brushed at the sleeves. “As far as I’m concerned, everyone here should be wearing a Gauthier jersey—he’s the best player on the team.” Wincing, she reached for her friend’s knee. “No offense, Tallulah.”

“None taken,” her friend responded with a dry smile.

“You’re the au pair turned girlfriend of Burgess Abraham,” Irving said, tossing a brief glance at Tallulah. “Right? And you’re sitting with Pink Jersey. Which is why a lot of people have speculated, considering Abraham and Gauthier are such good friends off the ice, that maybe Pink Jersey is...”

“From Glinda’s Glitz Haus,” Chloe replied, back to being transfixed by the game. Didn’t this man realize they were tied with five minutes to go in the third period? Crunch time had arrived, bitches. “Yes. It is,” she murmured, distractedly. “Fast shipping. Excellent packaging, too. Are you going to plug her on the website?”

Irving opened his mouth and closed it again. “I mean... sure. Sure. But I think what people are really wondering is whether or not you’re Gauthier’s girlfriend.”

“Oh! What? ” Chloe’s heart sprouted legs and started running circles around her chest. Gauthier’s girlfriend. Those two words side by side reminded Chloe of the cold plunge back at the country club. How it felt to submerge herself in that shockingly cold water, before running with her teeth chattering to the hot tub and warming back up again. Freezing followed by hot. That’s what the phrase “Gauthier’s girlfriend” did to her system. Flash froze it. Baked it.

Someday, a girl would call herself by that title.

But it wouldn’t be her.

Who would she become to Sig when he eventually found someone he liked enough to date? Their relationship would have to change drastically, wouldn’t it? No more falling asleep together on her couch in front of the television. No more extralong hugs that led to even longer looks, the occasional nuzzle or stroke of her hair. No more calling him just to hear his voice. That wasn’t stepsister behavior. Two more months and they would officially have to stop toeing the danger line that was etched into the ground between them.

Living the life of a couple, knowing full well that could never be their reality.

Chloe forced humor onto her face, even though her windpipe had sealed itself shut. “No, I’m not his girlfriend. Of course not. My mother is marrying his father. Soon, too!” Smile. Bigger. That’s not big enough. Keep going. “In two months, actually. I just got back from a wedding dress fitting with my mother in Paris. Wedding preparations are well underway. It’s going to be the social event of the season, although people in Connecticut say that about every event, right down to the Botox parties. It really has lost all meaning.”

Irving stared back at her. “You’re Gauthier’s... stepsister.”

“ Future. We’re not related by marriage yet.”

“So for now, you’re...”

Friends. Best friends.

Right.

“I think you’ve gotten enough for tonight,” Tallulah slid in, looking distinctly worried. “If you don’t mind, we’d love to watch the rest of the game.”

Irving shook himself. “Of course.” As soon as the reporter stood up, someone screamed puck in play . “Uh...” He awkwardly hunkered halfway down, producing a white laminated rectangle from his pocket and handing it over to Chloe. “Here is my business card if you want to say anything else.”

Chloe looked at the card. “Oh. It really does say ‘glorified grunt.’”

The man flashed a distracted grin. “Told you so.”

She shook her head. “Why would people be interested in my relationship with Sig?”

“What can I say? Boston loves a rumor. They also love black-and-white facts.” His gaze ticked down to her jersey and back up. “When you can find a way to give them both, they eat it up, spoon and all.”

“That doesn’t sound awesome,” Chloe said slowly.

“Timing-wise, it is. There is a list being published this week naming Boston’s most eligible bachelors and Gauthier is right on top.”

Flames erupted in Chloe’s throat. The man who rubbed her back until she fell asleep some nights, the man who was slowly teaching her how to drive, the man who’d taken her to her first food truck festival and coached her through the process of frying an egg... was being announced as single and ready to mingle. “You’re kidding. That’s amazing.” Irving was regarding her closely, so she forced herself to laugh, wincing inwardly when it fell flatter than a pancake. “I’m so thrilled for him.”

Irving hummed. “Well. It has been nice meeting you both. Remember, if you want to expand on anything you’ve told me, my line is always open.”

“Great,” Chloe said, tucking the card into her clutch bag. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you .”

Chloe watched the reporter walk away with an increasing sense of queasiness. “This isn’t going to be good, is it?”

“Probably not,” Tallulah said without missing a beat.

The dread in her belly thickened. “Sig will know what to do. He always does.”

Tallulah was quiet as the game clock ran out and the players cleared the ice, preparing for extra time. But the third time the Zamboni passed, she broke her silence. “Chloe, we’ve cried into mugs of hot chocolate together. I crashed in your guest room when me and Burgess were going through our own drama. We’ve witnessed each other in various states of angst and thus, I consider us close friends...”

“We are. You’re my closest friend, besides—”

“Sig. I know.”

Chloe’s face warmed. Friends didn’t stare into each other’s eyes like it was their final moments on earth, the way she did with her future stepbrother, but what else could she call him? “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“You sense correctly.” After a brief glance over her shoulder, Tallulah leaned in. “Look, I’ve told myself this is none of my business over and over again. Maybe part of me was even afraid to ask. But the more time you and I spend together, the more I notice your relationship with Sig is very... unusual. And I hope you don’t mind me saying that this upcoming wedding seems to be stressing you out. Which is normal! Your parent is getting married. But I guess what I’m trying to say is... are you stressed for a different reason?” The volume of her voice fell another degree. “Bluntly put, is there something romantic between you and Sig?”

“No!” Chloe said on a burst of air, out of pure reflex, because while she lived for what felt like stolen moments with Sig, she couldn’t help but be ashamed of them, too.

Ashamed of herself.

Her mother was so in love. So gloriously happy. Sure, Chloe and Sofia’s relationship had a whopping share of tension, her mother demanding details about Chloe’s life in Boston before she’d deposit money into Chloe’s bank account. Their Paris trip had been ruthlessly overscheduled with fittings, personal shopping excursions, and meetings with “friends” Sofia had collected on vacations over the years, but during their one-on-one moments, her mother had managed to land numerous subtle digs about Chloe’s lack of survival skills, hinting that it was only a matter of time before Chloe returned to Darien. Coaxing her to come home.

Frankly, Chloe was a little nervous that Sofia hadn’t done something more drastic to manipulate Chloe into moving back to Darien. She’d expected fireworks by now.

Or a bomb.

Maybe love had softened Sofia? Was that too much to hope for? Chloe had never, ever seen her mother this close to content. She’d called Chloe that very afternoon on cloud nine, thanks to Harvey signing them up for surprise salsa dancing lessons.

Yet here was Chloe, down in Boston, fantasizing about Harvey’s son. Nightly.

Sometimes hourly.

Wishing and praying and obsessing over the possibility that Sig would give in one of these nights and kiss her again, like he had that night on the golf course. Just maul her to death. Honestly, she would leave the earth willingly at this point, if she could just feel his tongue in her mouth again, his grip in her hair. To have him unrestrained around her.

Sig was so controlled.

A good thing. A necessary thing.

On top of their parents being in love and getting married, Chloe was killing it at the conservatory. Opportunities were already beginning to open up for her, but those doors would slam closed if word got around that she was in a foggy, undefined relationship with someone related to her by marriage. Sig’s profession put him in the spotlight as well, as evidenced by a reporter approaching her from the Globe . What if she hurt his standing with the team?

Obviously, what happened the night they met couldn’t happen again. They were best friends. Some might say they were way too friendly. They probably needed to back off a little. And they would!

Eventually.

Chloe had kept her feelings to herself somewhat out of shame, somewhat from denial that they were doing anything wrong. Everyone had a different definition of wrong. Right? At the moment, however, with possessiveness gluing her to the plastic seat, the words “Boston’s Most Eligible Bachelor” ringing in her ears, she couldn’t keep the truth inside. Not entirely.

“Okay, here’s the truth.” She picked at an invisible string on her leggings. “We, um. We met two hours before we found out we were going to be stepsiblings. Let’s say it was a very interesting meeting. One that is really hard to forget.” Her throat squeezed at the memory of them running across the golf course, laughing, as if the world was wide open to them. As if they could go anywhere together without consequence. “Impossible, actually.”

“You... kissed him.”

“No. We kissed each other.”

“Okay,” Tallulah drew out, staring at her levelly. “Is that where the intimacy ended? Like, has anything happened since then?”

Chloe blinked. “Of course not. We’ll be related by marriage in two months.”

“I know.” Her friend sobered even further. “I mean, technically, you wouldn’t be breaking the law. You met as adults, you’re not blood related. If Sig wasn’t a professional athlete with a lot of eyes on him—”

“And an indignity like this wouldn’t ruin my mother’s social position and hinder my own prospects—”

“Exactly.” Tallulah gave her a sympathetic wince. “It’s... delicate. In so many ways. You did the right thing by stopping as soon as you found out your parents were tying the knot.”

Well. That wasn’t entirely true was it? Chloe and Sig might not have slept together, but sometimes she felt as though their relationship was more intimate than sex.

“Do you ever just wonder if maybe...” Tallulah started.

“What?”

Her friend seemed unsure about whether or not to continue. “The connection between you two is... blatant, for lack of a better term. It’s palpable, like, at all times. And I guess I’m wondering if you two could get it out of your systems now. Before it is technically wrong to sleep together. You know, just to avoid a lifetime of wondering.” She covered her face with both hands. “Am I a terrible person for saying any of this?”

“No.” Chloe stared blindly at the ice. “Oh God, maybe you’re right.”

“No, I’m not. Don’t listen to me. I am not right.” Tallulah’s expression turned even more serious. “And I’m sorry, Chloe. Your feelings for him must be really complicated. Everything about this is complicated.”

Chloe nodded and nodded... and nodded some more, as if a spring in her neck was broken. “I don’t think any amount of time could get this out of our systems,” she whispered. “That’s why we agreed to be friends only.”

“Then you made the best decision,” Tallulah said quietly.

“It doesn’t feel like it.” She attempted a smile, but it dropped like it weighed as much as an elephant. “Do you think I can bribe the Globe into canceling Boston’s Most Eligible Bachelor list? And do you think they would accept unopened lipsticks as a bribe?”

Tallulah’s throat shifted with a swallow. “Oh, honey.”

Two bodies slammed into the glass. When Chloe saw that one of them was Sig and he was the victim of an obvious cross-check and the whistle didn’t blow, she surged to her feet and slapped a frustrated hand on the glass. “Are you serious, ref?” The arena went nuts with boos and catcalls. “Your mom called. Even she thinks you’re a hack!”