“Brody Kane,” Jessa says slowly. “Brody ‘Candy’ Kane. Number seven. Defenseman for the Blue Ox.That’syour Barcelona guy?”
“That’s the one.”
“How did you not know who he was back in Barcelona?”
“I don’t follow hockey! I didn’t recognize him. He was just this guy. This normal, sweet—very handsome—guy, who chased down a purse thief and then spent the evening with me. We talked about everything except hockey. He never mentioned it…well, actually…” The memories I’ve been trying (not trying) to get out of my head come crashing back. “He talked about playinghockey in high school. AndItalked about hockey players…and how much I can’t stand them…” My words trail off as the horror sets in.
“And then he disappeared,” she says.
“And then he disappeared.” The words still sting.
Jessa crosses to where I’m standing and pulls me into a hug. She smells like sleep and her coconut shampoo and that particular Jessa scent that means safety and home. “I’m sorry, babe. I wished I’d known.” She pulls back. “So what happened last night?”
“I was ambushed. We just ran into each other, and someone took our picture. They assumed we were an actual couple.” I drag a hand over my face. “Which we’re not. Obviously. Because he ghosted me six months ago, and I’ve spent all that time convinced there was something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Jessa’s voice is firm. “If he disappeared, that’s on him. Not you.”
“I know that. Logically. But”—I gesture at my phone—“feelings aren’t logical.”
My phone buzzes.
We both look at it.
Brody
I’m outside. Can I come up? I want to talk about the deal.
Jessa’s eyebrows shoot up. “How does he know where you live? And more importantly…what deal?”
My face heats. Here it comes. “I gave him my address so we could talk. It’s not a big deal. It’s just, last night he mentioned an arrangement. Something about the photo. Helping each other out with—” I stop, suddenly mortified. Because how do you sayHe wants to fake date me for PR purposeswithout sounding completely pathetic?
You don’t.
“An arrangement?” Jessa looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What kind of arrangement?”
“I don’t know!” I shrug dramatically. “That’s why he’s here. To explain.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.” She heads toward the door.
“What are you doing?”
Jessa glances back at me. “I’m letting him in so he canexplain.”
What?—No. I grab her by the elbow. “You can’t be here. You have to go.”
Jessa gapes at me. “You can’t be serious. I’m not letting Brody Kane in here so he can sweet-talk you into forgiving him.”
I give her a wide-eyed look. “Please, Jessa. I’ll fill you in on everything afterward. Please just…”
Jessa lets out an exasperated breath. “Fine.” She’s already heading toward her room. “But I’m listening. To everything. Just so you know.” She pauses at her bedroom door. “But seriously, Chloe? Whatever he’s proposing? Ask the hard questions. Don’t let his charm get to you.”
A knock at the door.
Jessa disappears into her room, and I’m alone in my Golden Gophers pajama pants and coffee-stained sweatshirt. I catch my reflection in the microwave. Hair in a disaster bun. No makeup. A faint pillow crease still visible on my cheek.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
Another knock.
