Chapter 16
Melody
Knox Bradford’s handsome face, relaxed and sleeping, yet still devastatingly sexy is the first thing I see when I open my eyes.
His little girl had rolled onto her side facing him in the night, and his large hand now rests protectively on her back, holding her close, like a football he kept saying last night.
He probably wasn’t thinking like I was: A football is his most treasured possession.
I can’t help a quiet swoon and a quick picture as I gather my things and head out into the early morning, before the dawn.
When I arrive back at my place, my thoughts are miles away, somewhere dreamy and completely inappropriate for my position as a journalist.
I open the front door and do my best to sneak in without waking my bestie.
“Where have you been?” Lindsey steps around the corner, and I let out a little yelp.
“Lord, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” I hold my chest. “Don’t jump out like that.”
“I didn’t jump. I was working right here at my computer. Like I do every morning.”
“I got us breakfast!” I present a bag of beignets and two café au laits from Cafe du Monde I picked up on the way home, holding them out for her inspection.
Yes, I remembered seeing her text last night, and I figured she’d be on the couch waiting when I walked through the door. Don’t forget I grew up with this woman.
“You went all the way to the French Quarter?” Her eyes narrow, and she takes a coffee from me. “Awfully long way to go for breakfast.”
She takes a long sip, and a groan melts her suspicious face.
“Good stuff, huh?” I nod, waggling my eyebrows. “I’m going to take that as your funny way of saying thank you.”
“I’m not saying thank you at all,” she argues. “This is clearly a cover. You did not sleep in your bed last night.”
I make for the kitchen, but she runs around the sofa, stopping right in front of me, blocking my progress. I step to the left, and she does the same, back and forth until my shoulders drop.
“Would you quit? I have to pee!”
“Liar.” Her finger goes up, and she points, eyes dancing. “You’re just trying to cover. You were with him!”
An image of Knox, Cricket, and me in bed together, the picture he took, which is currently sitting next to the one I took of them this morning on my phone, flashes across my mind, and my cheeks flush.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice wobbles higher, because I am the world’s worst liar.
“Ha-ha!” She bounces on her toes. “You went to his apartment, didn’t you? You’re sleeping with the enemy.”
“He’s not the enemy.” I hit the word a little too hard, although I did make a pretty strong case about not being friends the first time he came here…
“You’re falling for him.”
“I am not!” Again, my voice is too high; my cheeks are all pink. I clear my throat and try again in a lower range. “I’m not falling for Knox Bradford. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, it was fun while it lasted.” She snatches the bag of beignets from my hand. “I’m going to pig out on fluffy pastry and powdered sugar.”
“What are you talking about?” I follow her into our small kitchen, watching as she takes down a plate and slides the triangle-shaped donuts from the bag.
“The show.” She takes a bite of one, getting white powder all over her upper lip and nose. “I’m talking about the show, QP.”
“Nothing is going to happen to the show.”
“They came because they loved seeing you go off on him. They stayed because they’ve been shipping you two for weeks. At least the ones who aren’t pissed about it.”
“We’re being shipped?” My stomach squirms, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. “Do we have a portmanteau?”
“Only you would use that word.” She rolls her eyes. “Yes, K-Mel, you have a ship name.”
My nose wrinkles. “Not sure how I feel about that one.”
“Whatever.” She waves me away, shaking her head slowly. “Now I owe Coco money again.”
“What are you betting on this time?”
“She used the Fireside Ladies’ book to cast a true love spell on you. I told her it wouldn’t work.”
“What am I, a Disney princess? I didn’t sing into a well. I didn’t lose a shoe at a ball.”
“And yet you found true love anyway,” she sighs.
“I’m not in love.” My chest squeezes, and I feel that heat rising in my face again. “I barely even know the guy.”
“You are sleeping with him, though.”
My jaw drops, but I don’t even try to lie. It’s no use.
Her expression switches, and I realize she was still fishing. Dammit!
“I knew it!” she squeals. “He’s so hot… And when he showed up at Razoo’s that night. The way he walked straight to you raging like a bull. That look…” She falls back against the counter clutching her chest. “I almost got second-degree burns.”
“You’ve got powdered sugar all over your shirt.”
She doesn’t care, absently wiping at her shirt. “That face… that ass…”
“We’ve got a lot more to think about than hormones right now,” I interrupt. “You’re not going to believe what’s happened. It’s top secret, but since you’re my producer, you should know.”
She straightens, and I step closer, lowering my voice. “He has a baby.”
“Oh, no. No no no…” Lindsey steps back frowning. “We don’t have time for baby-mamma drama.”
She waves her finger in front of her, but I catch her hand. “It’s not like that. At least, I don’t think it’s like that.”
“What’s it like then?”
“The mother is deceased,” I whisper, and Lindsey switches immediately to a sad face, letting out a little aww. “But he doesn’t remember her at all.”
She switches right back again to a frowny face. “How many women has he slept with?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not like that either. He’s really bummed out about it. He wants to be a good father, but he doesn’t recognize the name they gave him.”
“Like, maybe she used a fake name? Maybe it’s a setup?”
“No…” Exhaling heavily, I scrub my fingers against my forehead. “It’s not a setup. It doesn’t feel nefarious.”
I think about all the time we spent together, everything he said. I know this is killing him to have a baby girl who needs help and not to be convinced of who she is.
“He’s not a bad guy,” I say quietly.
I can’t explain why I know this in my heart. I absolutely believe in supporting women and men taking responsibility for their actions. I also know sometimes situations can be a lot more complicated than they appear on the outside.
The room is quiet, and I glance up to see my bestie-producer watching me with a very I told you so expression on her face.
I’m not going there. This has nothing to do with any magical spells.
“So that happened, but it’s completely off the record. At least for now.” I take one of the cups of coffee and walk over to my desk. “What do you need me to do today?”
Her eyebrows rise, and she nods slowly, circling back around to her own desk and picking up her phone. “You need to record your weekly roundup of the big winners this week. We’ve been pretty one-track minded for the last few episodes, but there are other teams out there.”
“It seems like nobody cares when I talk about the other teams. They’re only here for one thing.”
“True. Our numbers dip if you don’t mention the golden boy.”
“The black and golden boy.”
“Saints Nation!” Lindsey holds both hands in the air. “All the way to the top, baby!”
I can’t help a laugh, shaking my head. “Okay… Record weekly highlight reel. Anything else?”
“Chet Arnold called while you were out. The numbers for your guest spot on his show aren’t as good as your solo numbers are, but apparently they’re far better than what he gets on his own. He wants to fly down and record another collab if you’re into it.”
My nose wrinkles, and I look up at her. “Am I into it? It felt very awkward and not at all like what I’m used to doing.”
“Are you saying you don’t like seeing the fans’ reactions to what you say in real time? I can totally understand that.”
“It was weird.” I take a seat at my desk, waking up my laptop. “For the most part, they were positive. Hearts, thumbs-ups, laughing emojis…”
“But?” She tilts her head to the side.
“But there were also the trolls, and all the people who don’t want to hear me talk and don’t mind saying it out loud… in the meanest language possible.”
“Why you gotta be so mean?” Lindsey deadpans.
“Seriously.”
“Shake off the haters.”
Our phones buzz at the same time, but mine is on the bar. I watch as Lindsey reads hers, and I know by her expression what’s coming.
“Get your phone, please. This involves you.”
Exhaling a groan, I walk across the living room to reach inside the kitchen and retrieve it. Turning the device over, I see what I pretty much expected.
Coco
What did I miss? I don’t know if I can go a week between updates. Y’all have to stop leaving me out.
Lindsey’s fingers are flying, and I haven’t even finished reading when the woosh of a sent message fills the air. It pops up on my screen as well.
Lindsey
I owe you. Again.
Coco
I KNEW IT!!! I knew the Fireside Ladies wouldn’t let us down. The Palm is Sacred!
I have something to say now.
Melody
Don’t compliment them! The Fireside Ladies totally let me down when my GPS broke, and I needed to get him to the airport.
Coco
They were working in their mysterious ways. They didn’t help you because they knew it would make you mad and you’d start your show focused entirely on him and it would make him a better player and it would eventually turn into true love.
Lindsey leans back in her chair, sighing happily as she looks at me. “It’s true.”
Shaking my head, I reply quickly.
Melody
That is a lot of mental gymnastics. I prefer the simple answer, which is always the right one. Our paths crossed in a negative way, and we figured out how to turn that negative into a positive.
Coco
Potato, Potahto. You say it your way, and I’ll say it mine.
Shaking my head, I look up at Lindsey. “You know I’m right about this. There are no ancient witches who perform spells over shots of tequila.”
My friend holds up both hands. “I don’t know anything. My mamma raised me on the Fireside Ladies, and I’m not doubting their power. They brought your dad back.”