“Are you asking as my publicist or my friend?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Both.”
Either way, she needed to know, and I wanted to tell her. So I explained how Frasier had gotten roped into being my fake date.
Once I’d finished, Georgia said, “Okay. Now that we’re all caught up, enough stalling.”
I laughed. “I know. And I’m sorry for being vague and for making you waitso long,” I joked, as if it were a huge hardship. “But it’s not entirely my fault.” I gave her a pointed look.
“Yes. Yes. I was out of town.” She waved a hand through the air. “And we had to wait for Logan.”
“Plus, I had work, and I haven’t even been back that long. I’m pretty sure I’m still jet-lagged.”
“And yet you had time to go buy an entire nursery worth of plants.” Georgia gestured to the back door and the garden beyond. Logan and Georgia shared a look.
“What?” I asked, annoyed that they seemed to be having a private conversation about me without ever saying a word.
“Did something…happen?” Georgia asked in a gentle tone. “Something…bad?”
“What?” I glanced between them, trying to determine where they’d gotten that idea. “No. Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re totally dopamine loading,” Georgia said as if the answer were obvious.
“With the garden?” I asked, brow furrowed. When they nodded, I said, “I’m not dopamine loading. I’m doing a project.”
“To avoid uncomfortable feelings? To make yourself feel better?” she asked. I appreciated her honesty and concern, even if it was unwarranted this time.
“I’m not doing it to avoid my feelings. I’m doing it because I’m sick of looking out at that sad excuse for a garden and thinking of what could’ve been. It’s time for a change.”
“So let me get this straight. You come back from a vacation where you and Frasier pretend you’re dating, and you have a sudden and intense desire to grow a garden.”
“Maybe it seems sudden,” I said, knowing that I could just as easily be talking about my feelings for Frasier. “But I’ve been wanting to make a change for a while, and something clicked on the trip.” Now I was definitely talking about Frasier. And myself. My journey with my grief.
“Clicked…how?” Kylie asked. “Clicked for you, or between you and Frasier?”
“Both,” I said, fiddling with the stem of my wineglass. I rolled my lips between my teeth, trying not to smile too hard.
“Oh my god.” Georgia gasped. “You had sex with Frasier, didn’t you?”
“I…” My cheeks heated. “Yeah.” The word came out as more of a squeak.
Logan arched one brow. “Details, please.”
So I told them everything. Well, noteverything. There were some things I wanted to keep between just Frasier and me. But I told them about truth or dare, eliciting whoops of delight about my burlesque number. I told them about cliff diving and our first real kiss. Our conversation the morning before we came home.
“Damn,” Logan said, blinking a few times as if to process it all. “That was a lot to pack into one trip.”
“Yeah.” Georgia shook her head. “I mean…I know I told you to lean in, but girl, youjumped.”
“It was scary,” I said. It still was. “But it felt right.”
“I’m happy for you,” Kylie said. “Truly, Bryn.” She gave me a hug.
“Does this mean we get to attend home games again when I’m in town?” Logan asked. Because, of course, she was thinking about how this affected hockey.
I laughed, though her question certainly gave me pause. I hadn’t thought about that until now. But the season would be starting before we knew it.
“I don’t know,” Georgia said. “Is Levi going to be pissed if you start attending his rival’s games?”
