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"I still look better than you," I grumble, batting his hand away. When I glance at the clock on the wall, I'm
surprised to see that the pre-show meeting should have started eight minutes ago.
Pushing away from the table, I stand up, stifling a groan as I walk toward the refrigerator in the back of
the room. My body  worn out in the best way  has protested ever since I rolled out of bed almost two
hours ago. Sore calves and feet remind me why I rarely wear heels. The dull ache behind my tired
eyelids hasn't let up despite the two mugs of coffee I've had. My thighs and arms feel shaky, strained
from the exertion of loving Cullen... moving above him& clinging to him as he moved above me.
In spite of my discomfort, I can't help smiling as I grab a cold water, twisting the lid off while I elbow the
refrigerator door shut. I lean back against the fridge and guzzle a third of the bottle before I notice that
Emmett is staring at me from his seat across the room.
"What?" I demand, wiping my mouth.
"You hung over?"
"No. Are you hung over?"
"A little," he admits with a smirk. He looks briefly toward the doorway to the hall before continuing. "Drank
my way through a blind date last night. It was bad, Swan. Epically bad."
His amusement is contagious and I chuckle as I turn to grab a water for him, too.
"Here. Hydrate." Facing him again, I toss the bottle his way. My arm is weak, so my throw is off. After
leaning way to his right to catch the wobbly pass, he raises one curious eyebrow at me. I don't usually
misfire like that. Shrugging, I walk back toward the table. "So, no hook up, I guess."
"I didn't say that."
"Emmett!"
"Not with her," he replies defensively. "I took her home early, but my swag took a bruising. I had to do
something."
"You mean someone," I joke, making him laugh. As I sit down, I check the time again. "We go on-air in
twenty. Where the hell is Newton?"
"No need to worry, sleeping beauty. I'm here," Newton announces as he comes into the room. "You were
snoring when I walked by fifteen minutes ago."
"I wasn't even asleep," I argue, although I'm not entirely sure that's true. I'm positive that I wasn't snoring,
though. Probably. I glare at him when he hands me the show rundown sheet for today, but he's too busy
scowling at Emmett to notice.
Too tired to roll my eyes at Newton's daily antics, I yawn as I read through the schedule, half-listening to
Newton give orders. Cover the MLS Cup. Uh huh. Talk about the college football conference
championships. Duh. Recap the first few weeks of the NBA season. Check.
"We also got last minute confirmation from Seahawks PR that Jasper Whitlock will do a phone-in
segment this morning. Seven minutes. Seven o'clock."
Seven. Seven.
Newton is still talking, but I'm not paying any attention to him anymore. Shifting my hands to my lap, I
twist the wedding band on my finger around, counting the stones. Seven. I sigh quietly as memories of
yesterday rewind in my head  the heat of Cullen's skin pressed against mine, the scent of the flowers in
our bedroom, the way he smiled at me after we exchanged rings, the shimmering lights of the orchard.
"Bella? Hello? Are you with me?" Newton's nasal voice interrupts my daydream and I lift my eyes to his. "I
asked if you've done any research for this weekend's Seahawks game."
"Yeah, I read up on the Vikes yesterday." On the plane to Vegas. When I helped my fiancé study his
scouting report. Before we got married.
As my heart flutters, I roll my lips together to contain my wide grin, but a giggle escapes before I can
stop it. Although I'm a little annoyed that Cullen has turned me into the kind of girl who giggles all the
time, I can't help but enjoy the displeasure on Newton's face. He clearly thinks I'm laughing at him.
"And you know the Seahawks' stats?" Newton waits until I nod to go on. "Good. Then you take the lead
with Whitlock."
"What? She's done the last three interviews with Seahawks players," Emmett protests, sitting forward in
his chair.
"And she's doing this one, too," Newton insists. Looking back and forth between his narrowed eyes and
Emmett's clenched jaw, I quickly realize that the snide remark on the tip of my tongue won't be effective
in defusing this situation. They're both really pissed. So, I decide to play the part of peacekeeper& even
though it almost makes me throw up to be so nice to Newton.
"Newton, seriously," I plead, drawing his gaze my way. My voice is syrupy and I smile a little, trying to
persuade him. "Emmett would do a great interview. He knows the stats as well as I do."
"And I've known Whitlock for years," Emmett adds. I see the flash of annoyance in Newton's eyes before
they slide back toward Emmett. He hates to be reminded that most of the players in this town know
Emmett and me by name  but hardly any of them remember his. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]