Chapter 21

Evie

Fraser loves me.

He did just say that, didn"t he? I didn"t mishear him.

Granted, he is recovering from a dinner with my family, so maybe he"s not in the right mental state to be making such an important declaration.

Or the best physical state, either.

He looked like he was in considerable pain in the car, and the way he hotfooted it into the bathroom—he moved faster than he does on the ice during a game.

But surely yelling out something along the lines of, I"m going to murder the chef, or I"m never getting dragged to another Freeman family dinner ever again would have been more appropriate, wouldn"t it?

Admitting you love someone when you"re in the throes of major stomach pain? Is that even a thing? I need to find my phone and do some googling.

Before I can, I"m stopped in my tracks. A still squeamish-looking Fraser is resting against the wall.

"Are you standing like that because you can no longer feel your legs?"

"Almost. I am so, so, so sorry you had to witness that."

"It"s all good. I once had a guinea pig who used to poop everywhere all the time."

Fraser cocks his head to the side. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes. Question mark?"

He manages a small smile. "And I"m also sorry that the first time I told you that I love you was when I was sitting on the toilet."

Houston, we have confirmation.

"Wow."

When I leave it at that for a few beats too long, Fraser takes a tentative step toward me. "Good wow? Bad wow? Get out of my house I never want to see you again wow? Help me out here, Evie."

"The first option."

Now, I"ve seen Fraser smile before.

When he scores a goal.

When his team wins a game.

When he"s with Oakey.

But I have never seen the type of joy that"s radiating off him right now.

He looks like he just won the Stanley Cup, the lottery, and the Super Bowl all at once.

"Does that mean I get a do over?"

"You totally get a do over. In fact, I insist on one. We"re going to need a much better story to tell people."

"Very true."

He bridges the gap between us in one swift motion, meeting me as I get up from the sofa. His big palm cups my cheek, and his fiery gaze holds me spellbound before he dips his head so that our foreheads touch. With his breath fanning out across my face, my whole body floods with warm anticipation.

"I should have stepped up and said this years ago. It"s long overdue."

"Better late than never," I say, breathlessly, smoothing my hands down his ridiculously solid chest.

He pulls his head back, aims those two intense blue orbs at me, and says the words I thought I"d never hear him say. "I love you, Evelyn Freeman. And the more time I spend with you, I fall deeper and deeper in love with you."

"Oh, Fraser." I drape my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer to him. "I love you, too."

I lift onto my toes and bring my mouth to his.

Our lips meet, sealing our words, and I lose all track of time. Nothing else exists except for Fraser and me and this kiss.

He loves me.

Which means…

I pull back sharply.

"Everything okay?" Fraser asks. "My breath"s not funky, is it? I did consume an inordinate amount of yogurt tonight."

"Your breath is fine," I assure him as my heart breaks out into a gallop in my chest.

"Well, what is it? I can tell something"s up."

Everything about this relationship with Fraser has been so topsy-turvy, from the way it began right up to this very moment, that usually, I would have told him I"m a virgin and planning on waiting until I"m married a lot earlier.

I have to tell him now. He has a right to know.

"I"ve got something to tell you."

His jaw visibly tightens.

"It"s nothing bad. Just…important. And also kind of embarrassing. But also necessary. Very necessary. You need to know this, and for the record, if after hearing what I have to say, you want to take back your I love you, I won"t be mad."

"I would never do that," he says, swiping my cheek with his thumb, his eyes back to their usual laser-focused intensity. "But tell me what it is, please, because I"m starting to get worried."

I take a deep breath, do my best to ignore the unsettling sensation coiling in my chest, and reveal, "I"m a virgin."

His head tilts to the side. "Oh."

I press on. "Normally, I"m up-front and say this much earlier. But our relationship hasn"t exactly been conventional."

"No. It hasn"t."

"Our timeline has been all out of whack. It all started with us doing it just for show."

"It was never just for show for me," he says, his voice so low and husky it burns right through me. "I tried to pretend that it was. I went along with it because it gave me the chance to spend some time with you. Alone. I thought I could control my feelings, rein them in. But I couldn"t. From the first time we hung out together, I was a goner."

"Does…does what I just said change anything for you?"

He shakes his head, a lock of hair falling onto his forehead. "It does."

My eyebrows shoot up. "It does?"

When he shook his head, I assumed he"d say no.

"It only makes me love you even more because, Evie…" His breath hitches. "I"m a virgin, too."

"You are?"

He swallows. "Yeah. And I"ve been in knots about telling you, hoping it wouldn"t be a dealbreaker for you."

"Oh, Fraser."

I slide my hand over his face, running the tip of my finger delicately over the scar on his left cheek.

"It might sound sappy, but I only ever want to be with one girl. It"s kind of a thing in my family. I want to wait until I"m married before taking that final step."

"If that"s sappy, then I"m the biggest sap there is." I stare into the eyes of the man I love. "Because that"s exactly what I want, too."

A smile rises on his lips. "So, we"re on the same page?"

"We"re in the same sentence."

We kiss again, and my heart brims with so much joy, it feels as if it could explode at any moment. I can"t believe this is real. It"s better than any of the possible reactions I"d pictured in my mind.

When our impromptu make-out comes to an end, I pull back and say, "I hate to break the moment, but I need to use the bathroom."

Fraser lets go of me. "No problem."

I hurry away, floating on air, swept up in the beauty of our first I love yous—the official version, not the actual first I love you which shall never be spoken of again—as well as the amazingness of being on the same page.

The same sentence.

When I return a few moments later, the change in vibe hits me instantly.

Something is off.

There"s a palpable tension in the air.

Fraser is standing over my desk with his back to me. My heart begins to race as I walk up behind him.

His ears prick, and he spins around. "What is this?" he asks, his voice laced with anger.

I glance down at my desk, at the notes and photos and old newspaper clippings scattered about everywhere.

"It"s not what it looks like."

"Really?" A deep line emerges between his eyebrows. "Because it looks like research. Are you…are you doing a story on me?" He lifts one of the selfies I"d printed out, the one of him and me with Oakey, and shakes it angrily in his hand. "Are you doing a story about my family?"

"No. I"m not. At least not yet. I was just?—"

"I can"t believe this."

He storms past me.

I reach out, trying to grab his arm to make him stay. To make him understand that I was just putting together a pitch for a story. To explain that I would never, ever in a million years do anything without his and his family"s full permission.

But it"s too late.

The door slams shut with such force that it shakes the walls of my apartment.

I want to chase after him and not let another second go by without clearing this up, but I have never seen Fraser this angry.

As much as it kills me, I need to give him some time to cool off.

I run to the window, every cell in my body on fire, watching as he storms to his Range Rover.

Look up, look up, look up, I silently will him.

But he doesn"t.

There"s no look.

No smile.

No wave.

Nothing.

He climbs into his car, slamming the door shut. The lights come on, the engine roars to life, and with a screech of tires, he speeds off down the street.

I watch from the window, waiting until he turns the corner and disappears from view.

And then I turn, back onto the wall, and slide all the way down to the floor, ribbons of tears running down my face.

What have I done?…

"I"m sorry about the change of plans, you guys," I mutter, before loudly slurping the last of my strawberry milkshake through my straw, as Hannah, Beth, Summer, and Amiel pile into the booth.

It"s my third milkshake. Not that I"m counting.

Because yes, I am that girl who group-texted her friends last night and hijacked this morning"s sunrise walk to instead drown her sorrows with all the dairy and pancakes Bear can supply.

I drizzle an unhealthy amount of maple syrup over my second stack—which I"m also not counting—and let out a depressed groan, "I"m a mess."

"We can tell, we have eyes," Beth says bluntly, as only Beth can.

"Tell us everything that happened," Hannah instructs. "Start at the beginning, and leave nothing out."

I wave my empty frosted glass at Bear, who gives a nod of understanding, and I proceed to fill my friends in on the events of last night, starting with Levi"s super cool reaction to Fraser and I being together for real before the family dinner.

I tell them that, despite the food being way too spicy for him, Fraser did a decent job keeping up with us, that the conversation flowed well, and that all in all, it was a great evening.

I omit the specifics of his first I love you and leave it at, "He probably won"t be in a rush to eat spicy food any time soon."

And then I move on to the pièce de résistance. The first official I love you…which was swiftly followed by our first fight.

"I excused myself to the bathroom for a moment, and when I returned, he was looking at the story pitch I"ve been working on," I say glumly. "He was furious, you guys. I"ve never seen him like that before."

"What did he say?" Amiel asks.

"Nothing. He just stormed out." I drag my hands across my sleep-deprived eyes. "And you know what"s even worse than Fraser being angry at me?"

They all shake their heads.

"I"m angry at me. That I didn"t just come out and tell him my idea. Fraser would have nixed it immediately, and that would have been that. Case closed. Move on. Now? Now it looks like I"ve deliberately gone behind his back and deceived him. He already has trust issues and a hard time letting people in. And then I go ahead and do something stupid like this. He must be feeling so betrayed right now."

In one of only a handful of instances in all of human history, the Fast-Talking Four-slash-Five are actually silent.

I feel horrible. Like pond scum. Worse than pond scum. I feel like whatever looks at pond scum and thinks, That"s an upgrade.

Until recently, I was the one who had doubts about Fraser, that he wouldn"t stick around. That because he"d left abruptly once before, he could do it again.

And now it turns out, I"m the one who"s created a problem that gives him a reason to leave.

I wouldn"t blame him if he did. I"d be just as mad as he was if the situation were reversed.

"Who died?" Bear asks, delivering my next milkshake.

His eyes swing between us, and even in the state I"m in, I can"t help but notice how they linger on Summer.

"Man troubles," Beth explains.

"Say no more." Bear backs away. "Let me know if you need anything else."

"Just keep everything coming," I say, bringing the straw to my mouth.

I take a few slurps of my milkshake, stuff some pancakes into my mouth, then say, "Wuh-at am I guh-onnah do?"

All heads turn to Hannah, since she"s known me the longest and is well-versed in Evie-with-her-mouth-full speak.

"She asked, "What am I going to do?"" Hannah translates for the group.

"You"re kind of asking the wrong girls," Summer says delicately. "We"re hardly experienced in the love department."

"True. But one of us has read about a lifetime"s worth of romance novels," Hannah counters, and we all fix our attention on Beth.

Beth turns to me. "Do you really want to plot your next course of action based on what I"ve gleaned from reading romance novels?"

I slurp noisily on my milkshake, then sigh. "That"s currently my only, and therefore best, option."

"Okay. Well…I"ll tell you what you don"t do," Beth says, sitting up taller. "Hear me loud and hear me clear, ladies."

We all lean in.

"Do. Not. Leave it," Beth says, wagging a finger through the air to emphasize each word. "Do not let Fraser get on that plane this morning without resolving things, because if there"s one thing that makes romance readers want to hurl their books or Kindles at the nearest wall, it"s the overused, clichéd, third-act breakup due to miscommunication. That has been done to death. Don"t be that girl, Evie. You"re better than that."

"I"m currently on my fourth milkshake and second plate of pancakes," I point out. "So maybe I"m not better than that."

"Yes, you are. You have the truth on your side," Summer reminds me. "Once you explain everything to him, I"m sure Fraser will understand."

"He"s head-over-heels about you," Hannah adds. "My profits have been through the roof since you started dating."

"And the way he looks at you," Amiel sways back into the booth, clutching her chest. "I"m basing this purely on the images I"ve seen online, but believe me, I"d love for a guy to look at me that way."

"Resolve this," Beth reiterates. "The more time that passes, the worse it gets."

"You"re right. You guys are absolutely right."

I shovel in a few more forkfuls of pancakes, swallow it down with an almighty swig of my milkshake, wait until I finish chewing this time, then leap to my feet and announce, "I"m not going to be an overused, clichéd, third-act breakup basket case. I"m going to fix this."

I knock on Fraser"s wood-paneled front door and inhale sharply.

I"m a mess.

I haven"t slept.

I"ve been stress-eating.

And I may or may not currently be wearing the clothes I slept in…which also happen to be the same clothes I wore yesterday.

And the ugh boots are back.

Don"t judge me.

Or do judge me, I deserve it.

I"m too exhausted to care.

But I have to do this. I have to set the record straight.

Fraser may still be angry and hurt when he finds out I was planning on pitching him the story—which he"s entitled to be—but at least he won"t be under the wrong impression that I had any intention of betraying him.

Bottom line: I wasn"t honest with him, and I fully own that. I"m prepared to deal with whatever consequences may come.

Well, as prepared as anyone can be when it comes to potentially losing the person they love after they just finally got together with them.

The door swings open, revealing a messy-haired, crumpled-looking Fraser with two prominent bags under his eyes that weren"t there yesterday.

"I come in deep-fried peace," I say, holding up the fries I picked up at the diner.

He looks at my lame peace offering, then at me, then says, "Come on in."

I follow him into his living room.

There are two big suitcases open on the floor, and he"s midway through packing. He pushes them out of the way with his foot and gestures toward the sofa. "Can I get you anything to drink? Soda? Juice? Water?"

"I"m okay, thanks."

I sit down on the couch.

Fraser sits down on the other end. Not all the way over, but leaving way more space between us than he normally does. It feels like we"re back in our high school days again.

"How"s your stomach?" I ask.

"Slowly returning to normal. He"s issued a strict Freeman family dinner ban. Effective immediately and for eternity."

"I"m glad you"re feeling better." I smile.

He"s keeping things light. That"s a good sign…I think?

I decide not to waste any more time.

"I know you"re hurt and probably really angry at me right now, and you have every right to be, but if you give me five minutes, I can explain everything."

"All right."

I lift up a fry. "Let me tell you the fried truth, the whole fried truth, and nothing but the whole fried truth…"

I start with what he already knows. That my numbers had been tanking despite our high-profile relationship and my jumping-off-building antics to rectify it. That Margo had warned me my head was on the chopping block when the network announces their first round of cuts shortly.

Then I bring in some new information. "She"s actually been bugging me for months to do a story on you."

"She has?"

"Yeah. And for a long time, I resisted."

"Why?"

"Because I know you, and I was positive you wouldn"t be interested and you"d turn it down. I also didn"t want to bother you with it or make you uncomfortable, especially since you"d already done me one giant favor by going to jerkface"s wedding with me."

That draws the tiniest smile out of Fraser. "Glad you"re finally using his correct name."

I carry on. "After exhausting all my options, I was left with just two. As you know, I caught up with Mom and asked her to set up a meeting with her Washington contact."

"Even though that"s not something you want to do?"

I lift a shoulder. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. I have to be realistic. I"m good as gone from the network. I need to have a plan B."

"That being a story about me?"

The words stall in my throat, but I push them out. "Yes. I was still convinced you wouldn"t go for it, but I thought if I pitched you an idea that allowed you, and your family, to tell your side of the story your way, you might at least consider it."

"And what if, after considering it, I still said no?"

"Like I said, I fully expected that. I wasn"t counting on this story ever happening. I just wanted to bring the idea to you and have that conversation. It wouldn"t have changed anything if you"d said no. Honestly."

He breathes out through his nose.

"I"m sorry I kept this from you. That was wrong of me. I should have mentioned it earlier, you would have made some joke about me being out of my mind, and that would have been the first and last time the topic was discussed. Instead, I did something that made it look like I was being deceitful or underhanded when I really, truly wasn"t. I apologize. I own what I did because I can see that"s exactly how it looks."

He exhales again. "Thank you. I needed to hear that. I"ve had the worst night. Seeing those photos and newspaper clippings on your desk triggered my two biggest vulnerabilities—my distrust of the media, and my desire to protect my family. I got hit with a double whammy of pain."

"I feel so awful about that."

He tunnels his fingers through his hair. "I tossed and turned all night, running it over in my head. I tried to be logical about it, knowing deep down that you would never use me for a story. I kept trying to come up with some way of explaining it. But unfortunately, the logical part of my brain got hijacked by insomnia, late-night home shopping network ads—side note, you and everyone I know will soon be receiving the latest state-of-the-art food dehydrator—and…fear."

"Fear? Fear of what?"

"Of losing this thing that we have." He sets his eyes on me. "This is everything I"ve ever wanted in a relationship. I don"t mean to sound cruel or unkind, but I"ve never had anything like this with any of my previous girlfriends. With them, I was never able to truly open up and be myself. It felt like…like there was something there, a barrier, that prevented me from accessing those parts of myself. I felt broken, like something was wrong with me. Which wasn"t fair to them."

"Wasn"t fair to you, either," I gently point out. "And you"re not broken, Fraser." When he makes a sound like he doesn"t believe me, I say, "You"re not. I know you. Yes, you"re guarded, and you really need to get to know someone well before you feel safe enough to open up to them, but that"s just who you are. Just like being kind and thoughtful and a great listener are also things that make you who you are. I"ve spent a lot of time with you, so I speak from experience. I"m not just saying it. You are not broken."

"Yeah. Maybe…but with you, Evie, without effort, without trying, it just happens. I can be myself. Fully myself. It started in high school, and it"s been the same these past few months."

"I feel the exact same way. My previous boyfriends never really understood me, so I found myself changing to fit into who I thought they wanted me to be."

"I don"t want you to change anything about yourself, Evie. I love everything about you. Even the things you think I might not."

I"ve always wanted to be with a guy who I could be myself with. Someone who loved all of me, and I didn"t have to hide or change any part of myself to make him feel more comfortable with me.

Fraser is that guy.

I feel it and know it with every part of me, from the tips of my fingers to the depths of my bones.

He thinks I"m beautiful when I"m a mess.

He loves it when I eat like a horse.

He doesn"t mind my messiness.

Or my detailed notes about his hockey performance.

Or my rambling and quirky sense of humor.

He gets me.

He loves me.

All of me.

I just hope I haven"t ruined everything.

"I"ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. It"s…" He lets out a long, deep breath. "It"s scary."

"Most relationships are. At least at the start."

"You saying it gets easier?"

"I"m saying I have no experience in relationships longer than twelve months, so I"m not the most qualified person to answer that. But when I look at my parents, or yours, or anyone who has been in a long-term relationship, then yeah, it seems like it does get easier. You know each other better. You build up trust. And you make sure you have healthy ways of resolving any disagreements or miscommunications that arise. Mom and Dad have a rule that they never go to bed angry, that if something happens that day, they deal with it that day."

He smiles. "I like that."

"I want you to know something else." I shuffle over, closing some of the distance between us. "I would never, ever betray you. No part of us being together was ever part of some covert attempt at getting a story about you or your family. I need you to really hear that."

"I do. I know you would never do anything that underhanded or sneaky. That"s not who you are."

"I couldn"t." A tear slides down my cheek, but I quickly brush it away. "I honestly couldn"t."

He scooches down a bit closer to me, our knees almost touching. "I"m sorry I stormed out like I did. That wasn"t very mature of me."

"Totally understandable given the circumstances."

"Can I make a suggestion? Two, actually."

"Go for it."

"One." He takes my hand, curling his thick fingers around it. "From now on, we take a page out of your parent"s book and we don"t go to bed without resolving things. Or in our case, since we don"t share a bed, before we go to sleep. If it happens that day, we deal with it that day."

I nod. "Deal."

He gives my hand a firm squeeze. "And two, no more secrets. Ever."

"Deal again." I rub his forearm. "So…are we okay? Because I really don"t like it when you don"t like me."

"We"re okay." He wraps an arm around my waist. "Want to know something really messed up?"

I lift my chin. "Always."

"Even when I"m meant to be mad at you, I still like you. It kept me up all night and drove me crazy."

"I have been known to have that effect on people."

We kiss, and it"s soft and tender, and it feels like the best kiss we"ve ever had because everything is finally out in the open.

No more secrets.

No more not communicating.

No more leaving things unresolved.

I hate that it took us having a fight to get here, but it feels like we"re on the right track. Nothing can stop us now.