17– Gabrielle

I was back in Grace’s apartment.

We were piled onto her living room couch, sprawled out lazily as we mindlessly munched on a bowl of popcorn while a movie played in the background.

I couldn’t care less about the screen.

My mind was scattered into a million jagged pieces, yet I couldn’t put my hand on any particular thought. 

I couldn’t comprehend what was happening in my head, or even in my life at the moment. 

How had Kayden Alvarez become the sole topic of focus in my existence so suddenly? 

When did it get to this point? 

How had I allowed my walls to crack this badly?

Questions nagged at my brain, but I had no answers for any of them.

“You’re still thinking about what your mother said, aren't you?” Grace’s soft voice suddenly filtered through my thoughts, cutting the silence.

I looked over at her, my shoulders slumping. “What’s there not to think about? She was right, after all.”

“About what part?” Grace sat up straight, setting the bowl of popcorn aside. Her features morphed into the look of dead-seriousness that told me she was about to try and school some sense back into me.

“Everything,” I shrugged, trying to sound detached. “Especially the part where she said I was being used as a disposable tool.”

“That’s it?” Grace jerked a brow, her eyes narrowing. “When did you start having such a myopic, narrow way of thinking, Gabrielle?”

“Excuse me?”

“Whether or not you were in Kayden’s life, his management team would’ve found someone to help rebrand his playboy image. He’s a global star, Gabrielle. You’re a publicist, you know how this industry works. Whatever is happening right now isn’t some deep, personal vendetta against you. It’s just strategy. It's what it is.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t make me feel some type of way,” I whispered, looking down at my hands. “What am I even getting in return for destroying my reputation?”

“Popularity. High-profile leverage.”

“Which would’ve been great, but I’m becoming popular for all the wrong reasons.”

“What wrong reasons?” Grace challenged. “That you supposedly fell in love with a man?”

“That I seduced a client! An athlete who happens to be the people’s golden sweetheart,” I snapped, the frustration boiling over. “This is not the kind of career popularity I ever wanted.”

“You only see it from a negative perspective because you’re unwilling to harness this opportunity and make it what you want it to be for you.”

“You don’t understand, Grace.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” Grace sighed, reaching over to squeeze my knee. “But I do care to understand, because I can’t bear to see you looking this miserable anymore.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?” She tilted her head. “Because I don’t think so. It seems like your self-worth took a massive hit this time around.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that you already carry these deep, limiting beliefs about yourself. And facing your mother the other night just brought every single one of those insecurities right back to the surface. You’re recoiling, Gabrielle. You look like you can’t even stand to be in your own skin right now.”

I stared at her in a stunned silence.

It wasn’t as though she wasn’t telling the truth, but a part of me felt deeply offended. It felt like I was being backed into a corner and attacked, and it was a terrible feeling.

Grace must’ve realized from my rigid posture that she was tugging on emotional strings I didn’t want pulled. Sensing the danger zone, she shifted the conversation.

“I mean, honestly, I’d give anything to be in your position right now,” she teased, nudging my shoulder with hers. “Kayden is definitely not a terrible sight to wake up to. And the man clearly likes you.”

“How can you possibly say that when you’ve never even met him in person?” I scoffed.

Grace looked at me like I had lost my mind. “Are you just acting dumb, or are you actually stupid? Everyone who has working eyes knows he likes you, Gabrielle.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Grace said, grabbing her phone and pulling up a viral sports blog, sliding it into my lap. “Look at all the unaware paparazzi pictures that have been taken of him over the last six months. At every single point in time, his head is turned toward you. He’s always staring at you. His eyes are constantly tracking your every move. Have you seriously never noticed?”

I stared down at the screen. It was a compilation of photos from press conferences and rink arrivals over the last several months. 

In every single one, while the media lenses were trained on his face, Kayden's intense gaze was locked on me standing in the background. 

It wasn't the look of a client watching a handler.

It was the look of a man entirely captivated by a woman.

A cold, breathless realization hit me, and a terrifying panic flared deep in my chest. 

I had noticed. I had felt his eyes on me for months. And the true reason I was running away now, hiding out in Grace’s apartment for two days, wasn't because I thought he was using me.

It was because I was terrified to admit that I was starting to feel something real for him, too.

“This means nothing,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I stared at the photos.

“Do you really mean that or is it the stupid little voice in your head talking?” Grace’s voice was playful, but she looked dead-serious.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Exactly,” she said. “So don’t utter the words until you’re sure of them. You should let loose sometimes, Gabrielle.”

“Let loose,” I chuckled, “you say that like it’s easy.”

“Because it is easy.”

“For you. But for me… I can’t—”

“You can,” she cut in, her voice firm. 

I looked down at the screen, a breath leaving me in a rush.

“It doesn't matter if he looks at me like that, Grace,” I said, handing the phone back to her, my fingers trembling slightly. I pulled my knees against my chest. “Even if he... if he genuinely likes me, it changes nothing. It just makes the whole situation more dangerous.”

“Dangerous how?” Grace groaned, tossing her phone onto the cushions. “Gabrielle, the man fired his personal trainer just because she was rude to you. Do you have any idea what kind of statement that makes in the sports world? He risked a team fine and a coaching dispute just to defend your honor behind closed doors.”

“And that’s exactly what terrifies me!” I burst out, the raw emotion cracking through. “Don't you see? He's a romantic. He acts on impulse, he throws his weight around, and he lives in this fantasy world where he can just demand what he wants and the universe bends to him. But I live in the real world. I’m the one who takes the heat. I’m the one who gets to face the ugliness of this if it goes wrong.”

“Why do you always have to be so pessimistic?”

“Why do you have to be so positive?” I shot back.

“It’s not like I’m positive, Gabrielle. I just don’t care.” She shrugged. “If it happens, it happens. No one has ever died from being talked bad about.”

“Uhm… that’s not true,” I argued. “There’s been cases of suicide due to cyber bullying.”

Grace snorted out a laugh. “Alright, Einstein.” She ruffled my hair. “You should’ve become a lawyer like your mother wants. You’d make a badass defense attorney.”

“Yeah, right,” I smiled. 

Grace watched me in silence for a moment, her expression softening.

“Gabrielle, look at me,” she said, grabbing both of my hands, squeezing them firmly. “Your mother may want what’s best for you, but you shouldn’t let her words get to you anymore. You cannot let her words blind you to what is standing right in front of your face.”

“I don't know what's real anymore,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I looked at my best friend. “I’m so tired of all this… I don’t want to micromanage my life anymore.”

“Then don’t,” she said. “For the next twenty-four hours, you stay right here on this couch and just breathe. Because whether you like it or not, that trip to Montreal is coming up, and you need your head clear before you step onto that plane with him.”

I let out a shaky, exhausted breath and nodded, leaning my head against Grace's shoulder. She wrapped an arm around me, holding me tight.

I felt a small sense of peace settling into my chest, but deep down, a dark, lingering dread remained.

My mother had planted a seed of doubt so deeply into my mind that I knew it was only a matter of time before it took root.

I sighed, burrowing my face deeper into Grace’s chest. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think,” she stroked my hair softly, “you should ask yourself what you want out of this, then level the playing ground and take charge.”