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“It’s Grady. That’s what has set her off. She doesn’t want me to be happy.”
“Whatever the case, our lawyers informed her lawyer that if she releases any more texts or emails, that we will release some of our own. That seems to have gained us a reprieve.”
“That’s good. And are we making progress on the emails and text messages?”
“Yes. Our tech guy thinks he can download them all. Then we’re going to have people go through them.”
Reese could hear an imaginary cash register cha-chinging all these new bills. “I could help with that. Again, it’s not like I’m busy. And since I was on the receiving end of these emails and texts, it will be easier for me to go through them.”
“We will keep that in mind. But that’s not all. We have one more problem. Josh Semple has been sniffing around.”
“The Josh Semple from theGazette?”
“The same. He wants an interview with you, and it appears he’s been digging around. He’s doing some sort of piece on this whole fiasco. I told him that you’re not doing interviews right now.”
Reese wanted to crawl under her desk. Josh Semple did not like her. He thought figure skating wasn’t a sport. He didn’t believe that figure skaters were true athletes. That the whole sport was corrupt. And on and on.
“This is horrible.”
“I’m going to see what I can come up with. I’m pretty sure he’s no friend to us, but I wanted to make you aware. To counteract anything he may come up with, I’m in the process of negotiating an interview with Kasey Belmont. You’ll be a guest on her morning show, and I’ll book you a few other spots. But that’s not for a while. We still need to get you back in everyone’s good graces. In the coming weeks we’ll be doing some interview prep. Keep that in mind.”
He rattled off some other information, but her mind kept going back to Josh Semple. If he was doing a piece on her and Jen, there was no way in hell that Reese’s reputation was going to survive it.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Since Grady wasn’t busy, Reese asked him if he’d be willing to hang out with her at the park near their condo building. She wanted to take some selfies to post on her social media accounts later. He jumped at the opportunity and asked if he should wear some of his Crush gear.
“Maybe too obvious and pushy,” Reese said. “Something casual. I want us to look carefree and in love.”
“Sounds good. Meet you in the hallway in a few minutes.”
Reese chose a pink-and-white summer dress and put her hair up in a messy bun. She threw on some makeup—she was going for a natural look—and grabbed her phone before meeting Grady in the hallway. He was looking handsome, as always, in a pair of khaki shorts and a polo shirt that hugged his chest and arms perfectly.
“Want to grab some drinks on our way there?” he asked.
“Sounds like a great idea.”
They hit the small coffee shop across from the park. Reese had gone there a million times before, but now with Grady in tow, it seemed different. Most of the baristas knew her but had never been pushy or acted silly when they saw her. But she was walking in with Grady now, and she had no idea if that would change things.
One person was ahead of them, and when it was their turn, the barista barely batted an eyelash.
“I’ll have a cold brew,” Reese said.
“Make it two. I got it,” Grady said, pulling out his wallet before she had a chance to grab hers.
A few other people were in the coffee shop, most of them at small tables, their heads buried in laptop screens, but two young girls sitting in the corner were watching them and giggling. Reese pretended not to notice when one pointed her phone at them, clearly taking photos. This was what Reese wanted, even though it was a massive invasion of her privacy.
Walking across the street to the park, they scoped out some places to take candid—and not so candid—shots. They chose a park bench near some flower planters. It was a lovely backdrop and Reese took a few pictures of the two of them. She then took a shot of Grady drinking his cold brew, making sure the coffee-shop name was hidden. She could hear John’s wrath if any name had been visible.
“What about a pic of us holding hands. You know, just a pic of our hands.”
“I like that,” Reese said.
They took those and a few other pictures before sitting back on the bench and feeling the warm August sun on their faces.
“It’s a gorgeous day,” he said. “But I hate August.”
Reese arched a brow. “Why do you hate August? What has it ever done to you?”
