"Can’t you just…make it up?" she asks, staring up at me from my chest. "You did so well with our meet-cute story, I figured you could just make up the rest, and I’ll go along with it."
I shake my head. "I will get you to open up to me, Olive Herring. Even if it’s the last thing I do."
Her laughter echoes through the room, and it turns my heart to mush.
Olive wriggles away from me and gets off the bed again, but I don’t try to make her stay this time. She would if she wanted to, but I don’t think we’re there yet.
"Do you have plans tomorrow? I don’t want to overstay. I can be out of your hair before the sun is up. You won’t even remember I was here," she says quietly.
Oh, but I will remember. I’ll see her in my bedroom every time I’m alone in it. "I planned to watch my friend, Romeo Moore, play his hockey game in…four hours. And I have a game tonight," I tell her. "You should probably be there. To keep up appearances."
"At the hockey game or yours?" she asks, throwing on one of the shirts hanging in my wardrobe.
"Both? It might be fun. Noelle was planning on coming with me to the hockey game, but we could all go together, if you want? She would love it."
"My next shows are in Atlanta. Tomorrow night. Not like, tonight-tomorrow, but actual tomorrow," she says, like I should have her tour schedule memorized.
What she’s saying barely makes sense, but I get the gist.
"I have to be there by morning for sound check and a pre-show signing."
I reach over for my phone on my nightstand, checking my team’s roster and schedule over the next few weeks, to compare it with hers.
Tapping away at my screen, I download a calendar share app and upload everything from my personal calendar to it. Games, training, events, and everything in between, and hit save. "What’s your number?" I ask, entering the digits as she tells me. Her phone vibrates from the floor beside the bed. "I just shared my calendar with you and added in all of your tour dates."
"Seriously?" she asks, unable to hide her surprised tone. "Who knew you were so organized?"
"Yes, seriously. I want to do this shit properly. If you and I can somehow manage to be in the same places at the same time, as often as possible, it won’t seem as fake." I shrug, not that she’s looking at me. I also don’t want to let her down or ruin her career.
Her face is lit up by her phone screen, a gentle smile on her lips. "Well, going by this, you play three times this week," she says confidently, and I can’t help but chuckle to myself. I don’t have the guts to tell her that we typically play that many times every week, anyway, but by the look on her face, I think she’d figured it out. "Okay, so as I’ve since learned, that is the standard. Don’t you get tired?" she asks, her eyes looking from her screen into mine.
I shake my head. "I’m used to it."
We spend the next hour going through the gaps in our schedules, trying to line something up. We come up with potentially one day a week, depending on press conferences, and promo for her music.
"So, when should we get married, then?" she asks, but I was hoping she had the answer. "Because I have a suggestion. Hear me out…"
I sit up, resting against the wooden headboard, patiently waiting.
But she doesn’t say a word.
"Are you going to tell me, or are you going to make me wait another hour?" I smile, and she sits beside me, still scrolling through her phone. I sneak a glance over her shoulder. "What are you looking at?"
She tilts the screen toward me. "In a month’s time, you’ll be in Vegas for a game. What if we line things up for then? A shotgun wedding, Elvis impersonator. It’ll be fun!"
"I’ll send my jet to wherever you are, so don’t worry about having Josie book you flights."
"Perfect. Who knew my future husband was resourcefulandhot?" She snickers, locking her phone and dropping it into her lap. "So it’s settled. Tomorrow, we will go to hockey, then basketball. And in one month, I get to take your super fancy jet to Vegas, where we tie the knot."
I nod. "If it were up to Orlando and Josie, they’d probably ship us there overnight to speed up the process," I say, knowing full well my manager is capable of exactly that if the timing called for it.
"I might need something sparkly on my finger, too. Maybe Noelle can help with that. Do you think that’s something she would want to do?" she asks, and I feel my chest constrict.
Olive and I are nothing more than the next PR relationship. But the fact that she wants to include the most important person in my life makes me happy for my sister, but nervous for her at the same time.
I just have to remind myself that while I don’t know Olive well, I know she isn’t the type to put my sister in danger.
"She would love that."
