Chapter Twenty-Four
Celebrate Life with Sprinkles—The Blog
Re-evaluating the Situation
I’m walking down the hall with a terrible cup of coffee at the Boulder Live studio. It’s Monday morning, and I’m blissfully happy as I get ready to attend the morning production meeting.
Amazing what real love can do for you, I think with a smile.
I spent all day yesterday with Maxime, and then he came over to my place to bond with the kittens. Much to my absolute delight, Boris came out and flopped on his side, letting both of us pet him. I was so moved by his utter trust, to put himself in that vulnerable position, that tears came to my eyes.
I understood what was in his tiny heart as I felt the same thing when I put my trust in Maxime.
Despite my fear of being vulnerable and my vow not to blindly trust fate, I embraced this new relationship.
I have never made a better decision in my life.
My fears of him not being able to handle my life have evaporated. I know he can now. I think I might have misjudged him in the beginning, based on my fears of his private nature. Maxime doesn’t seem to be bothered at all by what is written in the tabloids. I love that we were laughing about the most recent article this weekend. I know they all won’t be gushy like that, but at least I know he believes they don’t say anything of value.
I’m glad he’s home all week. Maxime has a game tonight, which I’m going to, of course, as well as one on Wednesday and Saturday. It couldn’t have come at a better time, as we’ve taken a huge step in our relationship by sleeping together.
Many, many times, I think with a wicked grin, as flashbacks of our sexy weekend play in my head.
As they do, I hit pause on the one of him going out into the snow to cut wood, showing me how to do it with his old-school ax. He had a knit, navy cap covering his glorious brown-blond locks, and he wore a navy and camel flannel shirt. He split wood with ease with his strong arms.
Maxime looked oh-so-manly doing it, all rugged outdoorsman.
And oh-so-sexy.
We need another blast of winter weather, I think mischievously.
I turn to enter the conference room, and Aly is already sitting in her chair.
I keep a smile on my face. While everything with Maxime is sorted out, things with Aly are not.
“Good morning,” I say, taking a seat several chairs down from her.
“Good morning,” she says, flipping a page in her planner.
Silence fills the room.
If it were anybody else, I’d ask if they had a good weekend, share my thoughts on the wintry weather, and ask if they are ready for this week.
Aly, however, makes typical office small talk impossible, as she answers me in one-word sentences as if she’s put out having to speak with the reality show castoff.
I absently scroll through my phone as a distraction, hoping someone else will walk into the conference room so this awkwardness can end.
“You seem to be making a fresh round in the tabloids,” Aly says, breaking the silence.
Ugh. I’d rather go back to awkwardly not talking.
“It’s temporary. They’re only interested because he’s the first man since Tom,” I answer.
“Very convenient.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Aly shoots me an innocent look. “Well, going from one famous person to another certainly keeps your Q Score up,” she says, referring to the rating system that measures celebrity appeal.
“You think I’m dating Maxime because he’s an athlete?” I ask, appalled. “Are you implying I have motives for dating him?”
“I didn’t say that at all. But dating a professional athlete would keep your publicity machine rolling. That’s a fact.”
Anger rips through me. I’m not putting up with this. We might have to work together, but she will not speak to me like this.
It’s ending right now.
“You don’t have to like me, Aly. That’s fine. You don’t have to respect me, either. We can work together effectively regardless of how you feel about me, for the good of the show. I can’t change what you think about me, but I don’t have to listen to it. I’d appreciate it if you would keep your comments about my personal life, including Maxime Laurent, to yourself in the future.”
Aly’s eyes widen. “You’re being way overdramatic about this. There’s no need to get defensive.”
“I’m not being defensive. I’m telling you to not bring up my personal life.”
“I’m shocked you think I’m attacking you,” Aly says. “I was making small talk about something that isn’t a secret, not when it’s screaming at me from the checkout line at the store, Skye.”
“No, it’s not a secret, but that does not mean I want to talk about it.”
Aly snorts. “Ha-ha. Funny, coming from the woman who dated, fell in love, and wanted to get a ring on-air. I find it a bit of a stretch to think talking about it would be an issue for you, but whatever. We don’t have to talk at all, which I would find preferable, actually.”
I sigh in exasperation. “Aly, it doesn’t have to be this way. I wish we could work together as two young women supporting each other in a tough business, encouraging each other and having each other’s backs. We would both gain more by helping each other.”
Aly glares at me. “I’m not your cheerleader, Skye. This isn’t the Is It Love? mansion, and we’re not going to sit around and braid each other’s hair and sip wine and cry over some guy we had oh, maybe four dates with? I’m not interested. I take broadcasting seriously. I have to work with you, and I will, but I won’t be your in-house praise team.”
She clicks her pen and goes back to her planner.
I sit still in my chair, the wind knocked out of me from her blunt attack. I’ve heard all these things before online and in tabloids. Strangers said them. Trolls said them.
But never from someone sitting in the same room as me.
Despite my strong words, I find my confidence shaken by her view of me. How many other people at the station think I’m an idiot? A stupid, young girl who made out with a guy on TV and has no skills or talents to offer?
I’ll continue to show them with my work, I think, vowing to take on more assignments. I’ll work harder than anyone here. I’ll work my way up to filling Aly’s seat when she’s out. Then nobody can accuse me of not deserving to be here.
Then Maxime enters my thoughts, and I bite down on my lip as I think of him. How many of Maxime’s teammates think this? Are they saying things behind his back? What about his friends back home in Belgium? His family?
I didn’t want to drag him through the tabloids, but what am I dragging him through without the media? Do they think I’m seeking to continue my fame by dating him? Do they think I’m after his money? Do they secretly wonder if I’m good enough for their friend, their teammate, their brother? Do they see me as the girl from TV, and not the woman I have become based on that experience?
People start filing into the room, and a box of donuts is placed next to me on the table. My co-workers begin discussing their weekends while I remain locked in my own tortured thoughts.
Maxime might be able to handle the tabloids, but can he handle what his friends and family will say to him based on the little they’ve seen of me on social media and TV? Maxime hasn’t told me if he’s mentioned me to his family. Do they know about me? What would they think? Would they want their son with the girl who made out with a man on TV and claimed it was true love?
I need people to understand that the show doesn’t define me as a whole. I’m smart and ambitious and have my own career dreams to fulfill. The Skye who was on Is It Love? is not the same woman who has fallen in love with Maxime.
It’s more important than ever that I prove myself beyond the Is It Love? tag. Not only for my professional career, but for the man I love.
My entire future depends on it.