Chapter 17 We’re All Hot Girls Here #2
“You’re not wrong, Whitney. I have called Ryder a thorn in my side publicly many times over the years.
I’ve called him a lot worse when it’s just the two of us.
But sometimes, I think the line between love and hate is too thin not to cross it.
Of course, Ryder drives me nuts. He’s competitive and painfully unserious, and every time he calls me Marshmallow, I want to choke him, just a little bit.
But one day I woke up and realized that I also want to spend all my time with him.
I want to listen to him sing along with the car radio, even though he’s mostly mumbling because he doesn’t know the words.
I want to roll my eyes when he doesn’t ask before taking the pickle off my plate at a restaurant and replacing it with exactly seven of his french fries.
I want to see the way his eyes light up when he brings me a sweet treat and watches me devour it in thirty seconds flat.
All those little things that drive me crazy, I also love them.
And I think that’s what opened my eyes. When I realized that even though I sometimes want to push him off the side of the mountain, Ryder is also the person I don’t ever want to live without. ”
I’ve known Mabel Quinn since the day she was born.
I know when she’s angry and when she’s sad.
I know when she’s happy and when she’s hangry.
I know the side-step dance she does when she really has to pee but is too polite to end a conversation so she can leave, and I like to think I know when she’s telling the truth.
And that murderous confession wrapped up in admission sounds like the truest words she’s ever spoken.
“Oh wow, that is…oddly romantic,” Whitney laughs. “Was it the same for you, Ryder? Were you walking that fine line between love and hate, too?”
“No,” I answer immediately, not taking my eyes off of Mabel, needing to make sure she hears every word.
This might not be the way I always dreamt of having this conversation, but when have she and I ever done anything by the book?
“No. There was never any hate on my end. I have cared deeply about Mabel for our entire lives. When we were kids, it was different. It was an affectionate kind of love. But once we grew up, I never stood a chance. I’ve been captivated by my wife since I was seventeen years old.
It never mattered to me that she didn’t feel the same way, never mattered that she’d found my existence abhorrent for so long.
It never mattered that the only way I could get her attention for so long was to feed on her annoyance.
She’s it for me. You’re it for me, Mabel.
Every morning I wake up, and I can’t believe how lucky I am that you finally looked my way.
” I kiss her knuckles again, watching the flurry of emotions flood her face before she schools her expression back to her media-trained smile.
I mean it, baby girl. Please know that I mean it.
“How is a girl supposed to resist that?” Mabel winks at Whitney, who swipes an invisible tear from her cheek at my display of affection.
“Mabel, girl, do not let that man go. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore. Now, back to the video. Walk me through that night. You’re in Las Vegas; you’re blowing off steam before the Games. How do you wind up at the altar?”
We take turns giving her the practiced story Trina spun for us—that after spending time with our parents, we were so overwhelmed with love and emotion and excitement and neither of us wanted to go to Milan without being married.
Whitney probes, asking about a ceremony, what our parents think, if we have any honeymoon plans after Milan.
Sticking with Trina’s demands, the questions all avoid addressing the stupid pregnancy rumors head-on while still giving us the opportunity to squash them by talking about Mabel’s upcoming competitions, our (fake) travel plans, and all the ways we’re enjoying our newlywed life (wink wink, nudge nudge).
After an hour, I think we must be done, but that’s when Whitney turns her attention to Mabel.
“Mabel, you’ve been in the public eye your whole life.
You started your career at the Junior Games when you were only eleven years old.
That’s a year younger than your husband was when he entered his first competition.
So I know you have to be aware of both the honor and burden of living your life in the court of public opinion. ”
Mabel tilts her head in acknowledgment.
“So I have to ask, with all the discourse surrounding you online—the criticism of your place on Team U.S.A, the claims of nepotism, and now the controversy about what some people are calling a quickie wedding. You’ve been accused of clout-chasing, using your parents’ name to shove your way onto the scene, of trying to sleep your way to the top.
How do you deal with all that? How do you block out the noise? ”
I feel Mabel stiffen beside me, the tension palpable in the hand still in mine.
Technically, Whitney hasn’t crossed any of the boundaries set by Trina, but I don’t think either of us were expecting what is supposed to be a fluff piece to take such a heavy turn.
I clear my throat, ready to jump in and defend my wife, to protect Mabel the way I’ve always tried to do, but she’s quicker than me.
She squeezes my hand, letting it rest on her thigh even as she pulls away and relaxes into the couch with her elbow on the armrest and her chin in her hand.
Missing only a crown atop her luscious red curls, my wife is a queen holding court, and I’m helpless to do anything but fall at her feet and listen.