Chapter 19 #2
“It’s probably easier if I show you.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, his hands shaking a little. Whatever this is, it must be bad. “It’s…everywhere, so you’ll see it eventually.”
The question on the tip of my tongue vanishes as he presses play on a video, and I realize what I’m watching.
It’s…us. On camera.
The video was taken last night, near the convent.
The scene is remarkably cinematic for having been filmed on someone’s cell.
The flickering gaslights are doing my tired mom face sweet favors—note to self: arrange to stand under a gaslight at all times—but I can’t say the same for Brad.
He looks even more like a messy drunk on camera than he did in person, making me cringe along with my on-screen self as he lurches toward me.
I’m a little shocked by how aggressive the move looks from this angle. I hadn’t felt like I was in serious danger at the time, but now…
Well, the menace in Grammercy’s voice as he says, “Excuse me, friend, but you’re standing too close to my wife,” feels completely justified.
The video cuts off as Brad backs away, making excuses, long before the kiss—thank God—but still…
Still…
Grammercy just called me “his wife” on a social media post that has?—
“Holy shit!” I blurt out as I see the number below it. Blinking fast, I ask, “Three million? That can’t be right? There’s no way three million people saw that.”
“I’m so sorry, Elly,” he says, the worry in his eyes making sense now.
We haven’t just been caught out; we’ve been stripped naked and shoved onstage in front of millions of strangers.
“I can’t wrap my head around that many people.” My voice is thin, breathy, then too loud as I add, “Oh my God, your mom! That’s why she’s mad. Oh no, does she hate me? Does she think I’m?—”
“No, not at all,” he hurries to assure me.
“She actually made a point of saying how much she adores you and Mimi. It’s me she’s pissed at.
” He sighs. “And she wants an explanation. I already called my brother and filled him in on what’s really going on.
He was surprisingly cool about it, but I doubt Beanie will be the same.
I haven’t responded to her texts yet. But I need to. Soon.”
“Yes,” I agree, nodding fast. “We can both talk to her. I can explain how you were just trying to help me and Mimi. You were being wonderful, a son any mother would be proud of. Surely, once we explain, she’ll understand.”
“I think she’ll come around,” he agrees. “It’s the other stuff I’m worried about. I’m so fucking sorry, chère . You’re trying to get your life on track and find some peace, and I just made you internet famous by accident. I’m sure that wasn’t on your wish list right now. Or ever.”
He’s right.
The realization hits fully, sending me rocking back on my heels.
I’ve never wanted to be famous or have my life examined under a microscope by strangers. That’s the reason I’ve always wanted to go into print journalism, not anything on camera. That’s why I used a fake name for my podcast and adopted a “Luvvy” voice pitched lower than my own.
Being the most talked-about girl in twelfth grade was all it took to teach me that I never want to be the focus of gossip ever again. And that was just the few hundred kids in my high school and their parents. This is…the entire world.
Staring. Judging.
Googling…
Oh, shit . They’re going to find out! About the podcast! I don’t know how, but I’m no cybersecurity expert. I’m sure I’ve left a digital trail connecting me to Luvvy. And then the whole world will learn that I’m a creepy fangirl who married my NHL crush. But worst of all, Grammercy will know.
Grammercy, who will be even more embarrassed .
And blindsided.
And who will probably decide he doesn’t want to keep kissing me or caring about me, and will never call me “his wife” in that sexy voice ever again.
“I have to sit down,” I mutter as I sink to the warm concrete at the edge of the lot. My bottom hits the pavement, and I lean forward, dropping my head between my spread knees as I try not to hyperventilate.
Grammercy, of course, is right there beside me, his big hand gentle on my back as he mutters something in French that I can’t understand.
But somehow, I know he’s beating himself up, even though he’s done nothing wrong.
Head still down, I grope for his free hand.
When I feel it in mine, I squeeze his fingers, “This isn’t your fault.
You were great last night. You’ve been amazing since the moment we met.
I know we can figure this out. It’s just…
a lot right now. But I’ll be okay. I promise. ”
He sits down beside me on the ground, wrapping his arm around my back as he hugs me to his side.
“That’s good to hear, chère . I don’t want to lose you.
Or Mimi. You’re…” He trails off, pressing a kiss to the side of my bowed head before adding in a softer voice, “You’re important to me.
And you make me happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. ”
I lift my head, tears pricking at the backs of my eyes as my gaze locks with his. I’m on the verge of telling him, of letting it all spill out and the chips fall where they may, when he adds, “I’m falling hard for you, chère . Hope that’s okay.”
Every ounce of breath wheezes out of my lungs. By the time it wheezes back in, I’m fighting happy tears and everything but the miracle of this moment is forgotten. “ I’m falling hard for you, too,” I say, my throat tight. “Last night was one of the best nights of my life.”
His smile is so beautiful, so pure and open and fearless, I suddenly think this might work out all right, after all. I mean, if anyone can handle being internet famous, it’s two people with their feet firmly on the ground, who care more about each other than what a bunch of strangers have to say.
And these days, people have the attention spans of fruit flies with ADHD. If we can just get through the first forty-eight hours or so of fallout, the world will forget, and we can go back to being us again.
Us…
That isn’t pretend anymore. We are a team, a fact we prove by talking through our strategy, promising to have each other’s backs, and kissing for a long, sweet minute before heading back to the party.
There, Grammercy effortlessly charms Chelsea and Miranda, makes the kids giggle when he pretends to be scared of alligators, and wins a new fan by posing for a picture with the owner on the way out. Turns out Barb of Barb’s Gator Sanctuary is psyched about Grammercy getting traded to New Orleans.
Same, Barb, I think as I buckle Mimi into her car seat and tell Grammercy we’ll meet him at home. Same.
And hopefully that will be enough to get us through whatever comes next.