Page 67 of Until the Last Star Fades

“I don’t either, but you can’t expect me to do cartwheels about a job I would never apply for in the first place. TV jobs might all sound the same to you, but they’re not. It’s like me drafting you to play goal when you’re a center!”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” He gulped his coffee and returned it to the table, his tone conciliatory. “He won’t be in the office again until Monday, so…forget it for now. I’ll take care of it.”

Fork aloft, he leaned forward, stabbing a slice of bacon. His follow-through bumped his coffee, tipping it over at the table’s edge and spilling its milky contents into the lap of his suit trousers. “Shit!” The restaurant’s attention fell on Josh, his cheeks reddening above his clenched jaw.

Oh, great. Riley leapt to her feet and leaned across the table, using her napkin to prevent more coffee from slopping onto his lap.

Their waiter rushed over without hesitation. “Sir, may I help?”

Standing up, Josh slapped his soaked napkin on the table. “Where’s the restroom?”

“Follow me.” The waiter led Josh and his frown away.

Riley smiled tightly at the next table, waiting for them to mind their own business. She toyed with the blueberries on her plate, piling them into the soggy holes of her neglected waffle, and flipped over her phone. Several texts waited. Maggie’s was first.

All good for tomorrow lunch? Will be nice to see Josh. x

She typed quickly, hitting send. We’ll be there around noon. x

The second text was Ben’s, another ‘4 Riles!!!’ playlist attachment. She opened it, finding “The Sun Only Shines on TV” and “Dancing with Myself” by Billy Idol. An amused giggle erupted from her throat, drawing disapproving stares back to their table. What? Riley side-eyed the nosey diners then stared at Josh’s abandoned breakfast. Ben texts and I laugh. When was the last time Josh made me laugh out loud? I can’t remember. She slouched, shame pulling her down. He’s your fiancé, Riley…get it together. She left her phone face down and cut into her waffle.

A phone buzzed again. She flipped it over, but the screen was dark. Oh, it’s Josh’s. She sat back, ignoring it, but it erupted into the full operatic chorus of Queen’s “We Are the Champions”, drawing more indignation from nearby diners. Shit! Make it stop. She reached across the table, spotting a number she didn’t recognize.

“Hello? Josh King’s phone.”

“Hi…who’s this?” asked the male voice.

“Riley, Josh’s fiancée.”

“Riley! Hi! It’s Mitch Quindry, Josh’s agent?”

“Oh, hi! Sorry, I didn’t recognize the name.”

“Yeah, I lost my phone so I’m using my wife’s. Listen, can you give Josh a message? Can you let him know we’re all systems go for the interview tomorrow? It’s the NHL rising stars piece.”

“Rising stars, cool.”

“Yeah, Sports Illustrated will add it to their NHL preview before rookie training camp.” Mitch’s smile was apparent even over the phone. “It will raise Josh’s profile at just the right time.”

Sports Illustrated—again? Riley nodded enthusiastically. “Wow, it’s amazing they want to interview him again.”

“Again? No, it’s the first time.”

What? Riley blinked. “I thought he spoke to them after the championship.”

Mitch snorted. “Hell no!”

Josh…lied? Riley’s stomach pulled into a knot.

“All press engagements wrapped the night of the win, which was a good thing.” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t have let press anywhere near them with the state Josh and the guys were in down in Vegas!”

Vegas? Josh was in VEGAS—when I was looking after Mom? He said he couldn’t fly home! His words from FaceTime bubbled up. “Sorry I can’t be there…too many commitments…” Commitments? Yeah, drinking, gambling, and God knows what else. She tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t budge.

“Riley?” Mitch’s phone crackled. “We’re about to go through the Holland Tunnel. So, you’ll tell Josh—1 P.M. tomorrow, Chelsea Piers?”

“Yep, got it.” She spat out the words and slammed Josh’s phone onto the coffee-stained tablecloth.

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