Page 71 of Big Girl Panties

By spring, Matt and I had fallen into one of those sickeningly perfect rhythms that made other couples want to throw things at us. You know the kind, lazy mornings where he'd bring me coffee in bed, share inside jokes that made us laugh until our sides hurt, and the way he'd automatically order my ridiculously complicated drink before I could even open my mouth.

Everything felt effortless, which made the online hate that much harder to swallow.

The only storm cloud over our happiness came through my phone screen. Every photo Matt and I posted triggered a fresh wave of comments questioning what someone who looked like a Greek God was doing with someone who looked like... well, me. The words started bleeding into real life, making me second-guess every outfit, every public appearance, every moment I dared to exist in his orbit.

Which gave Davina and me the brilliant idea to commandeer an empty office in the back of my café and start a podcast. It started with us just venting our frustrations while stress-eating day-old pastries. Six months later, we had nearly one million subscribers.

What had started as two friends having therapeutic meltdowns in my storage room had become something we never expected… a movement. A podcast called 'Big Girl Panties,' where we tackled everything from the brutal dating world to societal beauty standards, with guest appearances from everyone from dating coaches to that one guy who ghosted Davina after three dates and then slid into her DMs asking if he could use her for a reference.

"Do we have anyone lined up for today?" I asked Davina as I wiped down the front counter, probably for the fifth time in ten minutes, because nervous energy had to go somewhere.

Her gaze lifted from her laptop, and I immediately recognized the expression. It was the same smile a cat gives a mouse right before pouncing. "We don't have any callers or guests set up, but…" Her grin widened dangerously. "We've been getting a lot of requests for you to tell your story again. You know, the whole 'how Brooke met her impossibly hot boyfriend' saga."

"I've already told that story," I groaned, dramatically throwing my cleaning rag onto the counter. "Multiple times."

"Yeah," she nodded sagely, "back when we had four subscribers and two of them were my mom using different email addresses."

I leaned forward, letting my entire upper body collapse onto the counter. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to," she continued, her voice taking on that overly sweet tone that meant she expected me to do it, "but it's such an amazing story. It gives people hope. Not just women, but men too. Plus, the comments are always hilarious."

"Okay," I sighed, knowing I was defeated. "I'll do it. I just hate talking about myself. It feels so... narcissistic."

"Says the woman who started a podcast about her dating life," Davina shot back with a smirk.

"That's different! That’s… educational!" I held a finger up. "Plus, it wasn't just about my dating life. It was also about you and every other woman in this world."

She chuckled as she closed her laptop and shifted in her seat, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. "So…"

"So?" I raised my eyebrows, bracing myself for whatever bombshell she was about to drop.

"Matt asked you to go to Ireland with him. Have you decided whether you're going or not yet?"

There it was. The question I'd been successfully avoiding.

I blew out a heavy sigh that could have powered a small windmill. "I don't know," I whined, channeling my inner five-year-old. "I have so much going on here. How am I supposed to just pick up and leave for a month? What if the café burns down? What if Karen misses me? What if…"

"Well," Davina interrupted my spiral with infuriating logic, "I think you should start by promoting Kali and letting her hire a few people. You know, like a normal business owner would do."

I nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, it's getting pretty crazy."

"Well then, it's settled."

I shook my head vigorously. "No, it's not settled! What about the podcast? What about Karen? I can't just abandon my responsibilities!"

"We can do the podcast virtually, it's called technology, Brooke, look it up. And Karen can come live with me for the month."

I stared at her like she'd just offered to babysit a rabid wolverine. "Are you sure you want to do that? She's kind of a Karen, and you hate cats."

"No," Davina corrected with a pointed look, "I hate your cat. She's genuinely evil. I'm convinced she's plotting my demise."

I laughed. "You don't think it's completely insane for me to pack up and practically move to another country with a man I haven't even been dating a year?"

"Uh, hell no," she pushed out of her chair with dramatic flair, "especially not when said man is Mataio Strickland. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your position? Plus, it's freaking Ireland! Land of gorgeous landscapes, charming accents, and really good whiskey!"

"I still have a little while to decide," I said weakly.

"Okay," she drew out the word like she was talking to a particularly slow child. "I can't believe there's even a decision to be made here, though." She slid her laptop off the table and strolled toward me with purpose. "I mean, how often does the man of your dreams invite you to your top bucket list travel destination? This is literally what fairytales are made of, Brooke!"

"Ugh," I huffed out another dramatic sigh. "I know, I know. I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or the piano to fall from the sky. Or for him to realize he could do so much better…"