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“It was a close second,” I tell him.
His phone rings, and he groans. I take the opportunity to jump in the shower, because last night we made a mess of ourselves and the bed.
Again.
I’m under the steaming hot spray when Eli puts his head around the door. “What are we doing on Tuesday?” he asks me.
“I’m going to be trying to not murder my sister,” I remind him. She messaged me last week to tell me she and her partner in the ice skating show are flying in early. The show wants to record them practicing on the ice in front of the team.
And she’s decided that rather than stay at Gramps’ house with the rest of the family, and a lot of the production crew, she’ll stay with me.
I can’t wait.
“Ah right.” Eli looks disappointed. “Liam and Sophie will be in town. Wanted to know if we’re free for dinner. I’ll tell them no.”
“You can go,” I point out. “I’ll be with Isabella.”
“She could come, too?” he suggests. His face is kind. Understanding. And it makes me feel worse.
It’s so lovely in this little cocoon of the two of us. With nobody else to talk about us or judge us. Or film us.
But I know he’s going slow because of me. My fears. Yes, I wore his number on my back, but we still haven’t gone out in public together and it’s not because of him, it’s because of me.
I’ve been kidding myself that if I pretend it’s just for now, I can walk away and not be hurt. But I care too much about him for that.
“She doesn’t know about us.” I pause and then get strong. “Yet.”
“Yet?”
My throat tightens. I feel exposed standing naked in the shower as he watches me. I have to do this. Show him how I feel. It’s not fair to him that I’m holding back because I’m scarred by something that happened all those years ago.
“I can’t tell her until I tell my parents,” I say. “And knowing my dad he’ll want to catch it all on camera.” There’s no way I’m having my love life exposed to millions of reality TV watchers. “So I thought I’d tell them after the game. Once the filming is over and he can’t make a thing out of it for ratings.”
The softest expression washes over his face. “You’re okay with telling them about us?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes. I want to. I just need to time it right.” I wait for him to say something but he doesn’t.
“You want me to, right?” I ask, not understanding his silence.
He walks into the shower, still wearing his shorts and scoops me into his arms.
“Your phone,” I tell him.
“Oh shit.” He looks at his cell still in his hands. “Ah well.” He puts it outside the shower and comes back to hold me again. Water is pouring down his hair, his face, his body. And he’s got a smile as wide as the ocean.
“Are you okay with me telling them?” I ask again, needing the reassurance.
“Hell, yes I’m okay. I’m fucking ecstatic,” Eli says, still grinning.
The weird thing is, so am I.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
MACKENZIE
My sister stares at me, her perfectly formed brows pulled together. “I don’t get it. Why don’t you want them to know I’m your sister?”
Isabella arrived this morning with a camera team. For the last hour she’s been sitting in my office getting her makeup and hair done. It’s been kind of distracting trying to write a letter to the IRS while listening to discussions on what lip color will contrast best with the ice.
