7. Elysa

CHAPTER 7

ELYSA

Going back to work after spending an entire weekend with Aidan feels like stepping back into a different world. The usual Monday morning chaos at the newspaper is in full swing by the time I scurry through the door—late because he kept getting me undressed as fast as I was putting clothes on this morning. And my knees are suspiciously wobbly. That's also his fault.

Apparently, getting up at five in the morning is completely normal, albeit unhinged, behavior for an oilman like Aidan. He decided to put all that extra time to use by making me come this morning. Repeatedly.

Best ridiculously early morning ever.

"There you are!" Leia growls, materializing at my desk like a freaking sniper hiding in the bushes as soon as I set my stuff down. "I've been waiting for you."

"I can see that," I say, smirking at her. "Have you even been to your office yet?"

"What? Who cares?" She grabs my arm, practically hauling me down the hall. "We have to have a meeting. You're coming with me."

"Where are we going?" I laugh quietly.

"My office."

Honestly, I don't even know why she has an office. She spends the majority of her time at my desk in the main newsroom. But I shrug and let her drag me into the office, laughing loudly when she immediately flips the lock like she expects anyone to care that we're in here gossiping. They never do.

"You spent the entire weekend with him," she whisper-hisses, spinning to face me. Her wide eyes are comical. "I need all the details."

"All of them?" I arch a brow, sipping my coffee.

"Most of them," she amends, smiling devilishly. "Where did you go? What did you do? Did you tell him the big secret?"

"The Sterling Rope, the movies, a lot of dirty, dirty things. And yes." I pause. "In the middle of said dirty, dirty things."

She makes this sound that's not quite a gasp, but that isn't really a squeak either. It makes her sound a little like an offended bird catapulting through the air unexpectedly. I crack up as soon as I hear it.

"What the heck was that, Leia?"

"My head exploding," she mutters. "You told him during sex? You went to the Sterling Rope?" She gapes at me. "Your texts left out so many details, Elysa Anne Darby."

"Obviously. I wasn't leaving a trail." I sniff. Is she crazy? I watch true crime. If I come up missing, I don’t want the whole world dissecting my sex-life texts. No, thank you. "And I didn't tell him so much as remove my mask right before he…"

She blinks wide eyes at me. "Holy crap. You're in love with him."

"So freaking bad," I whisper-groan. "He's amazing, Leia. He treated me like a princess all weekend. He even… well, never mind. That's private. The point is, I'm so screwed!"

"Why?"

"Because I printed that stupid column calling him out," I groan. "Now, I'm madly in love with him, and I have to figure out how in the hell I'm supposed to convince people that little old Elysa Darby is the woman he was after. No one is going to buy that. Nothing about me is out of his league, but if I don't figure it out, people will dig. They'll unmask me as the matchmaker." I huff a breath. "We couldn't even go into the club because Bronx and Gemma would have recognized me on sight."

"Okay, well, first of all," Leia says, propping her hands on her hips, "little old Elysa Darby is freaking amazing. She damn well better believe she's out of his league because she's the freaking catch of the century and he's lucky to have five minutes of her time."

"I love you." I smile.

She blows me a kiss. "And second, you're the only one who thinks it'll all fall apart if you're unmasked. Maybe that was true when you first started and didn't have a reputation for success, but look at you now, bestie. You've made dozens of matches. People trust you because you know what you're doing. That isn't going to change when they know your name."

"They aren't going to be thrilled to find out I'm running the gossip column, too," I mutter. That was the point of keeping my identity under wraps. It's one thing to make matches. But reporting on them? Well, people are less thrilled to be the news.

"Please." Leia snorts. "Half the freaking town already suspects that the matchmaker runs the column. You wouldn't be telling them anything they didn't already know."

"That's not true," I protest.

Leia holds up a finger, marching around the side of her desk, and then plops down in her fancy chair. I watch, sipping my coffee, as she throws her hair up in a ponytail and then wakes up her screen, her fingers flying over the keys.

"Ahem," she says after a moment, shooting me a pointed look. "I saw Aidan Steele and Elysa Darby at the movie theater together on Saturday. They looked so cute! I think she's the one."

"What the heck?"

"Oh!" Leia reads, ignoring me. "I hope she's the one. I just love her."

I scurry around the desk to read for myself, my heart pounding. Leia jabs a finger at the screen, pointing me in the right direction. There's an entire comment thread about me and Aidan.

DollyDear: She always has the best gossip and the funniest stories. He better treat her right.

LolaMay: We'll ride at dusk if he doesn't.

DollyDear: It's dawn.

Nanak: What’s at dawn?

DollyDear: We'll ride at dawn.

LolaMay: I'm 70, not crazy. I'm not getting up at dawn.

Nanak: I always wondered if she could be the matchmaker. She has such a way with people.

DollyDear: It makes sense. Oh, goodness. Everyone says the matchmaker and our favorite gossip columnist are one and the same. It could be! She does work for the paper.

LolaMay: Well, don't be exposing the poor girl! If she wanted us to know, we would. We gossip. We don't ruin things for people.

Nanak: That's why I've never said anything.

I skim through a few more comments, my mind reeling. Holy crap. How many people suspect me? How many already know and keep it to themselves just because it isn't their secret to share?

I'm a gossip, but I pride myself on only posting the things that deserve celebration. It's why my column does so well. People want to talk. It's human nature to want to know what your neighbors are doing or to want to be in on the joke or secret. Done right, it fosters community and inclusivity.

People feel like they're part of something. They get to know one another. Done wrong, it breeds distrust and shatters communities. People stop talking, stop sharing. They isolate themselves.

I've always tried to do it right. I don't want to hurt this town or the people in it. I love them too much. My column has always been about celebrating the people in town and nudging them toward the things they want in life.

I guess I just didn't realize that it mattered to anyone else as much as it does to me. But the proof is right in front of me. They know—or, at least, suspect—who I am. And they've kept my secret so I could keep writing my column.

"People love you, Elysa. And they love your column. They love that you spend your time helping people around here fall in love. Do you really think they're going to care if you rip off the mask and give yourself—and Aidan—the same freedom you've given everyone else you've helped?" Leia asks quietly. "Because judging from what I've seen, they're going to root for you even harder than they root for everyone else."

I think she's right. Loving Aidan is worth any risk, isn't that what I said? I think I have to take this one. If I don't, I'll always be looking over my shoulder, waiting to be exposed. That's not a life. At least, it's not the one I want. I want him. I don't want my identity to be a factor in deciding what we are or aren't allowed to do. I just want my daddy.

In the end, there is no decision to be made. I already made it days ago. I'm only just now realizing it.

"Scoot over," I murmur to Leia. "I need your chair."

She immediately hops up, allowing me to plop down in her seat. I take a breath… and start typing.