Huh.
That does all sound great. Surprisingly so. I suppose I didn’t expect this one-week deal to be so…good outside of the bedroom. I figured we’d indulge in sex, but I didn’t anticipate liking Gabe’s company so much. “Yeah, it is great,” I say, a little wary, because…hello. We made a deal. One that ends tomorrow night at Aunt Tilly’s party. “But it’s early days. That’s just how it goes. Honeymoon phase and all.” I wave a hand airily, trying to dismiss these pesky feelings.
Maddox chuckles. But says nothing.
I huff. “All right, friend. What are you not saying?”
Another laugh, then he turns serious. “I’m saying that I think first impressions matter. I think the spark, the connection, the intensity—that’s meaningful. I think, too, that everything you said about him—walking your dog, listening, caring—that’s not honeymoon-level stuff. That’s real.”
Oh, shit.
He’s right.
I sang Gabe’s praises like those things he did were nothing. They’re not nothing. They’re wonderful. But there’s no room to linger on how wonderful since Gabe and I have an end date.
“Maybe,” I say, then run my finger along the rim of the iced tea glass, trying to sort through the ping-pong game my feelings are playing.
“Ellie,” Maddox chides, seeing right through me. “This guy sounds like more than a maybe.”
Ugh. Why does he have to be so right? I toss my hands up in the air, giving in. “Fine, you’re right. I like him. There. Are you happy?”
He laughs again. “Don’t ever change.”
“I won’t,” I say, playfully defiant. Then I relent. I’m not a secret keeper. Not from my friends. “We fit. We just fit so well,” I admit, relieved to stop fighting my feelings. Well, for a second at least. “Do you know what I mean?”
A look of longing flashes in Maddox’s warm brown eyes. “I do,” he says a little wistfully.
But there’s a hint of pain in his voice too that worries me. I cover his hand with mine. “Did I touch a nerve?”
“No.” He sighs and slumps back in his chair. “It’s fine.”
Wait. Hold on. He’s notoriously private about his romantic life. For him to even say it’s fine is revealing. “Maddox…have you met a guy you like?”
His resigned smile is answer enough. Judging from his expression, whatever happened with this guy isn’t still happening.
“I did,” he says, a big admission for him. “But it can’t work out.” He’s resolute, but I can hear, too, that he’s trying to be strong.
“Why can’t it work out?” I ask desperately because I feel it desperately. I want all the good things for my friends. I want Maddox to have mad, passionate, soul-deep love.
He takes a beat, dragging a hand through his hair, then taking his time as he answers with, “It’s complicated. And risky. And probably a bad idea.”
I frown then squeeze his hand harder. “This guy sounds great actually.”
Maddox cracks up, a deep laugh that seems to move through his body. “I haven’t told you a thing about him.”
“And yet I still know,” I say. Maddox might be careful with his words, but he’s not the only intuitive one. “I can read people too.”
He smirks. “And what’s the story in the book of me that you’re reading, Ellie?”
I point at his chest. “I think he sounds great because it sounds like you have big, monster feelings,” I say, my eyebrows arching in query. “Feelings you have to fight off.”
He sighs. Long, maybe a little frustrated. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, his tone concise, ending the conversation about his mystery man. “Enough about me. Tell me more about your guy and your monster feelings.”
“No way do I have monster feelings,” I say with a scoff. But my heart is drumming a little harder, a little faster.
Stupid heart. Stupid feelings.
Maddox snorts.
“I admitted I like him,” I say, with an I’ve given in already smile. “Do you want me to serve my heart up on a platter?”
“That’s the idea.”
I roll my eyes.
Maddox doesn’t back down. Just keeps his gaze locked on me. “You like him. He’s good people. So what’s the problem? Seriously? Everything sounds great.”
My heart pangs, the start of an ache. But there’s no space for heartache when we’re ending too damn soon.
I take a fueling breath to reset since the answer is simple. The problem is neither Gabe nor I want more. We’re both devoted to other things. “I need to focus on my show, and he needs to focus on football,” I say, chin up, armor on. “It’s an important year for him and it’s a critical time for me. And we both just got out of bad relationships so…”
“Timing. Circumstances,” Maddox says sagely, getting it.
“Yeah. They’re not lining up. So it’s best to just focus on work,” I say, bright and cheery.
Like I have to be.
I do love my job. I am excited about it.
And hell, I moved across the country for this. I should concentrate on my monster feelings for The Dating Games.
For the next few hours, I dig into the script as he works on deals. We order lunch, and as we eat our quinoa bowls, I show him a scene. He laughs as he reads it. “That is a most excellent dating challenge. Try something that scares you,” he says with a smile. “I can’t wait to see it on air.”
As the sun travels across the summer sky, we take a break, changing into our swimsuits and jumping into the pool.
I chat about Los Angeles and my new home and Gigi, doing my best to help keep his mind off his romantic woes. Mine too. But now and then, he gets a faraway look in his eyes. Maybe soon he’ll tell me more about his guy and what went down.
When we’re done swimming, I change back into street clothes, twist my hair into a tie, then pack up my computer. As Maddox walks me out, I check my email on my phone. “Oh,” I say, stopping in the front hallway, surprised to see a message from Sidney Stinson. The producer of Fabio’s List wrote to me again.
I read it out loud to Maddox. “I’d really love to chat with you for our doc, Ellie. I know it’s a sensitive topic and you’re understandably cautious, but I promise to treat the interview with respect and gravitas. If you’re willing, I’d love to hear back by Monday to set things in motion.” I finish the note with nerves flickering through me. When I’m done, I meet Maddox’s steady gaze. “What do you think? Should I do it?”
Maddox has such a level head, and he’s always given solid business advice. “If it matters to you,” he says diplomatically.
Does this show matter to me? Does the topic speak to me? “I didn’t want to at first, but I’m actually sort of considering it now. Gabe gave me some good advice on it this morning,” I say.
Maddox smiles and then rubs my shoulder. “This guy sounds good for you?” His voice pitches up at the end, making it a question. Could it ever work out with Gabe?
But I know the answer—I can’t start to rely on Gabe too much.
I have friends like Maddox to turn to. He’ll be in my life after this week and Gabe will return to the friends-of-the-family zone. He’ll be someone I see once or twice a year over eggnog and veggie barbecues.