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Ana: I am emailing you the list of TV station interview requests. There’s high interest in you and Jake. The world loved the Thanksgiving pictures he posted. Oh, and all the footage of you on the field with his sister after the Condors won Christmas Day has gone viral. Jake picking you up and swinging you around. To die for!! More of that today. The world needs more…Send
Rakell: I think the world may get sick of us. Jake loves posting…Send
Ana: Send me some pictures today. I’ll get my assistant on your account so we can keep the energy high. She’ll leave some sweet captions about how he’s the love of your life…blah, blah…Send
Rakell: Not too sweet or people will figure out it’s not me ??…Send
Ana: Have fun. Take lots of pix…we need an epic kiss on the field if they win. Honestly, I have to sift through the fashion folks who want you, and this Skyler romance is raising your profile…Send
Rakell: Sure, I knew that when I fell for him. (eye rolling emoji)…Send
Ana: ??…Send
Rakell sat back in the Uber that was driving her to the hotel where everyone was staying for the weekend. Her mind drifted back to the last time she’d seen Brielle. Their final night as lovers when they’d said goodbye for what they both thought would be a lifetime. Brielle was Rakell’s final assignment as an escort, but a longing settled into her chest anytime she saw Brielle on TV or a magazine cover or whenever she read a story about her and her husband.
“Rakell,” Brielle had whispered, her expression intent. Rakell sensed Brielle’s next words would stay with her long after their final time together. “There’s a Japanese word that encompasses two seemingly opposite emotions, but it is a match to how I believe I will feel when I think back on my time with you.”
“Oh, I am so happy that I got to know you,” Rakell had replied, hating that it had sounded like a rote platitude because she couldn’t access the words to communicate how special this woman had made her feel.
“Natsukashii,” Brielle had said, lifting her cup of herbal tea to her lips and sipping before repeating the word. “Natsukashii…”
Rakell had been captivated by Brielle’s lips, which produced the gorgeous word more like musical notes dancing from her mouth than as a word.
Their gazes stilled on each other as Brielle described how that simple word meant so much. “A nostalgic longing for the past, with happiness for the fond memory, yet sadness that it is no longer."
Visions of her dad, her mom, the ranch, and a life lost had made her turn from Brielle’s gaze. “Yes, I understand that meaning,” Rakell murmured faintly.
A soft smile crept to her mouth. The same satiated upturn of her lips emanated from her face every time Brielle sashayed into her psyche. In ten days, she’d wrap up filming and head to Paris for a Valentine's celebration with Jake, then meet with the Vogue team, including Brielle, to do the cover shoot. She’d continued to watch Brielle’s career, which was perpetually skyrocketing.
She remembered the first time she’d met Brielle’s husband in person. He emphasized the importance of Rakell adhering to the NDA agreements and that he would not hesitate to take action if any of them were violated, his voice thick and low with the promise of vengeance. Then he cleared his throat and said, “You are the perfect gift for my wife on her fortieth, and I can’t wait for you two to meet.” He went on to explain that Brielle was anxious about turning forty, being in an industry that pushed women aside as they aged, then added that he knew she would continue to be successful because of her chameleon-like nature, which would be an asset for her in the acting and modeling world at any age. He’d also told Rakell, “I suppose I believe she will be more sought after with age, not less.” Rakell remembered how that had made her beam internally, how she’d hoped to meet someday someone who would view her that way.
Melissa: Are you here? Jenae and I are in the hotel lobby bar. Mom and Dad are resting. I’m kid-free tonight, so sleep can wait until I return to Austin…Send
Rakell: In the Uber. Almost there. This is a cool city!...Send
Melissa: Come meet us after you check in…Send
Rakell: Will do. Can’t wait to see you both…Send
Jake: Sweets, are you here? I'm still at the stadium with the team, but I'm heading over later for family hugs…Send
Rakell: On my way. Will meet Jenae and Melissa in the hotel bar. Matt and Jonathon are flying in later. We’ll all be cheering for you on the field. (a picture of her wearing her lucky white jacket)…Send
Jake: I need a snack! My girl, in nothing but that jacket. See you soon…Send
She scrunched up her nose, reading his message. My girl…that phrase had wormed its way into his vernacular when he referred to her. She began thinking about that night, the incident in the restaurant bathroom when she’d known he had read the script.
Christmas had been a blur. She’d flown up to Sacramento to see him, and his family was there. He had to play the next day, so they didn’t really spend any time together. The following weekend, the Condors won the Saturday playoff game, and the team wanted to celebrate. Still, he’d insisted on taking her to a private restaurant in a vineyard on the outskirts of Sacramento. She’d pushed, knowing his teammates were out partying and expected him, but he insisted. He’d texted her before she flew in to let her know his plans and specifically asked her to wear the short cream-colored sweater dress with the cream suede boots he’d given her at Christmas.
When they climbed into his Rivian, he was practically thrumming with energy.
“You did it,” she’d said, kissing his cheek. “You guys are going to the Super Bowl again.”
He’d nodded as if she said the weather was nice today, his eyes visually manhandling every part of her flesh. He grinned, his gaze roving over her body, stopping on the hem of the cream sweater-skirt resting mid-thigh. The heat emanating from him made her instinctively part her legs. “Fucking hot,” he grunted out.
“I like it,” she’d said.
“It’s perfect for…” she heard him suck in the next part of the line.
