Page 138 of Falling for Mr. October

“Can we make signs and wave them in the background?” Luanne asks. “I’ve got about fifty ideas for good signs and nowhere to use them.”

“I don’t know if he should do it at all,” Emily says, pursing her lips. “This is what they’re going to want to talk about.”

“So he’ll tell them his side of the story,” Bianca says.

Emily shakes her head. “They’re not going to believe him just because he says so. For all we know, it could be an ambush, and they’re planning to unleash his ex on him with those cameramen in tow, like in those shows where people used to throw chairs.”

“Good,” Bianca replies. “I’d like to throw a chair at her.”

“Wait until after she’s had the baby, dear,” Helen says. “Then no one in the world would blame you.”

Bianca shakes her head. “Nope, no way. We’re not going to let the Good Day people make this into an ambush. We’re calling her now.”

“Janine?” I ask warily.

“Yes, we’re going to settle this like adults.”

Miles stands from his ottoman. “That’s a horrible idea, Bianca. She’s obviously not rational.”

“Then that’s one thing we have in common. Neither am I.”

“What if she records the conversation?” Emily asks.

“Then that’ll be something else we have in common,” Bianca says. “Because so will we, and we’re going to play it for them at the Good Day USA interview if they ask about this.”

“You don’t have to get involved,” I insist, running a calming hand over her back. “This is my mess. I’ll figure out a way to clean it up. I don’t want to⁠—”

She pulls me to her by the neck of my shirt and kisses me, right there in front of everyone.

All ability to speak leaves me. I’m left only with the bewildered gratitude of a man who’s lucky enough to have earned the love of the woman he worships.

A few of the book club members start crowing, and I hear a telltale buzz that suggests someone has claimed the Dong of Discussion and revved its motor.

Finally, Bianca pulls away, her gaze on mine. “You’ve been taking care of me since you showed up. Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you. And I really, really want to tell her off.”

How could a man say no to that?

“You’ll call on speakerphone, of course,” says Luanne. A glance confirms she’s the one with the dong. Thankfully, she’s shut the motor off. “We’ll help you figure out what to say.”

Bianca considers this, then shakes her head. “We can’t all talk at once.”

“So we’ll write messages to you on the whiteboard.” Luanne points to the rolling board stowed beneath the mounted TV. A half-completed game of hangman is scrawled onto it.

“Are we really doing this?” Emily asks as Miles wheels the board toward the coffee table with the panache of a game show host.

“We’re really doing it,” Bianca insists. “I’m not going to let this woman interfere with Giovanni.”

Helen crosses her arms over her very ample bosom. “Neither will we. We made a pact to protect the Shirtless Chef.”

“You did?” I ask in disbelief.

“After the fire.”

Well, hell…

“Give me Giovanni’s phone,” Bianca asks Emily, and I have to laugh, if only because these people who care about me have so thoroughly adopted my problem.

“Really, I could just call her myself,” I say. “Maybe⁠—”