Page 80 of Wild Ever After
“I’ve been telling you. Way better than PB&J three times a week.”
“Let’s not get carried away.” I love me some peanut butter and strawberry jelly on wheat bread with the crusts cut off.
“How was work?” he asks, between bites.
I love that he asks. Sam was completely disinterested in hearing about my work. In fact, he hated my job, which I guess was fair, all things considered.
“Really good. By the way, have you heard of the Hat Tricks and Puck Bunnies podcast?”
“Yeah, definitely.” He looks intrigued. “Why?”
“They invited me on the show. Well, us, actually. They want to do an entire show on us and two other couples. It’s a whole off-season, ‘man behind the helmet’ angle. You tell them how you’re spending the summer, and I add in fun tidbits.”
He drops the container on the coffee table. “Jade, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” I prepared myself for this outcome, but it still stings. A big podcast like this would get me in front of a whole new audience. If even a fraction of those listeners decided to read my articles, it’d mean a huge jump in numbers.
“Hockey is my job. Even if it’s a one-off, shooting the shit type interview, it’s still a part of that.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to figure out his real concern.
“I don’t want to spin a story to people that weigh in on my professional life. I know these guys. I respect them.”
“And you don’t want to flaunt our fake marriage in front of them,” I state matter-of-factly. Things have been going so well, the lines have blurred for me.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“No, of course. I’ll tell them no.” For reasons I can’t fully articulate, I feel hurt and silly because I’m hurt. Of course, he has boundaries. It’s just, this man has gotten so far under my skin in such a short amount of time, that it doesn’t feel like we’re flaunting something fake anymore.
* * *
I’m still thinking about it the next morning, when I send an apologetic ‘no thank you’ email to the podcast.
“It’s done.” I blow out a long breath after the whoosh sound, indicating the email has been sent.
“Sorry,” Scarlett says. “But you’re getting a ton of media requests. Another one—a better one—is right around the corner. I can feel it.”
We decided to work from our favorite coffee shop this morning instead of at the office. My phone buzzes on the table between us and she smiles. “See?”
I hold up the screen so she can see it’s my mom calling and not my next big interview request, then I hit ignore. My friend doesn’t comment on the way I dodge my mom’s calls. Talking to my mother requires an all-day buildup.
“Hey, do you want to get out of town this weekend?” I ask.
“And go where?”
“Anywhere.”
She purses her lips and arches a brow. “Hiding from your husband?”
“No,” I say automatically. “Maybe. I need a breather. We’re dating but married, living together and always in each other’s space. It’s a mindfuck.” It’s going so well that it’s freaking me out.
“Yeah.” She nods in agreement. “I get that.”
“We could road trip to Chicago or rent a house on the lake for the weekend.”
“I can’t.” Her lips pull into a half smile. “I am doing two engagement shoots tomorrow and I promised Cadence I’d come by on Sunday to have some adult conversation.”
Scarlett’s sister, Cadence, had a little boy two months ago. I don’t generally say this about babies, but he’s the freaking cutest.
