### Chapter 9: DRED As the server gracefully placed a mountain of Flip’s seventeen appetizers before us, I couldn’t help but marvel at his insatiable appetite for variety. Dining out with him often felt like embarking on a culinary adventure — he would order one of everything while I curated my meal choice, generally opting for what I deemed edible from his feast. It was a Monday afternoon, two days after the extravagant engagement party, and Flip had insisted on treating me to lunch. Perhaps he wanted to sift through the lingering excitement of the weekend, or maybe he was just looking for a way to dig deeper into my thoughts. “That engagement party was quite something, wasn’t it?” he began, a knowing smile creeping across his face once the server had departed. “It certainly was,” I replied, my thoughts still tangled in memories of Connor’s lips brushing against mine. The kiss felt electric, but what reverberated in my mind was even more tantalizing — his roguish comment about saving his mischief for the bedroom. Was it innocent blundering, or was he toying with my emotions? Either way, that fleeting moment had taking up residence in my heart. “His sisters told me you’re the first woman Grace has ever brought home,” Flip said, his gaze sharp as he studied my reaction. “Yeah, they might’ve mentioned that,” I admitted, both of them eager to share that piece of information more than once during the festivities. “And his parents… they’re a little… stiff,” he suggested delicately, gauging my response. “Less easygoing than we are, that’s for sure,” I mirrored his sentiment, taking a sip of my drink as he dove into a heap of nachos. “But his grandmother? She’s a gem.” “I adore her,” I added, a genuine smile breaking free. “She adores you and Grace,” he countered with a grin, but quickly fell back into contemplation. “Meeting his family sort of puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?” His words lingered in the air as I contemplated them. Until the engagement party, I had only been privy to the polished and curated image of Connor’s family that the media presented. What I witnessed there was an eye-opener. “In what way?” I nudged, eager to hear his insights. “He doesn’t fit with them,” Flip pondered, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork and dipping it into a savory peanut sauce. “He’s one of them, but still… not quite a part of their world.” “No, he’s not,” I agreed, the heaviness of his sentence resting in my chest. “He’s learned to embrace being an outsider.” “And how that must feel,” he murmured. “To forever be on the fringes of family, team, even friendship — it’s no small burden to carry. How can you ever believe you belong?” “I know how that feels all too well,” I said softly. “I was there until you strolled into my life and introduced me to the Terror.” Flip nodded, understanding flickering in his expression. “Back at the Hockey Academy,” he continued, “I thought I had him figured out. The chip on his shoulder was so big it could probably sink a boat, and he despised me without so much as a single word to my face. I genuinely thought his parents had bought his spot there… and so did a lot of others.” “Imagine being on the outside looking in all the time,” I said, shaking my head. “How hard must it be to ever believe you belong?” Flip tilted his head, contemplative. “You empathize with him.” “Remove the money — and despite that enormity, he and I share common ground,” I confessed, but that only drew a sigh from him. “Everyone adores you, though.” “Just like everyone adores you,” I countered, squeezing his hand across the table. His brow furrowed as he exhaled sharply. “I can’t help but feel like I’m outside looking in right now, especially while you’re in this — this situation with Connor.” “I’m not about to shift my loyalties, Flip,” I stated firmly, desperate to reassure him. “I don’t engage in things without rhyme or reason, and I don’t do what I don’t want. If that were the case, I’d be out with you at the bars instead of bailing regularly.” “Fair… I guess.” “I promise this is a decision for me, made to protect the ones I love, too. I need you to trust this, even if it’s hard right now.” The duty I felt began to crystallize, a weight on my shoulders that I carried for more than just financial gain; the thought of crippling Lucy’s joy was incomprehensible, and I wanted Connor to step beyond the shadow of loneliness, to feel what it was like to belong. “Just have faith in my judgment,” I implored him, watching as he processed my words. “Of course I do. I just wish he wasn’t the choice,” he lamented. “It’s not about him. It’s about the values we hold about this,” I told him. Those few who knew the depths of Flip’s history understood his wariness towards relationships; his interactions with faceless bodies weren’t merely escapism. They were a desperate fight against a past steeped in pain. “I just want you to experience true happiness,” he replied, concern etched on his features. “I am happy,” I reminded him. Until Flip arrived, my existence was merely about survival; now, I was poised to thrive with every choice I made. “And happy in love,” he added, his tone gentle yet probing. “Let’s change the subject, though. That’s my wound talking. What’s new at work? Any spicy new stories?” “Oh yes!” I chirped, excited to shift the narrative away from my love life. “Just yesterday, we caught a couple of kids getting busy in the family bathroom.” Everly, one of my absolute favorites, wasn’t one to shy away from her impulsive whims. “They might’ve gotten off scot-free if it weren’t for a frantic mom rushing in with a potty-training toddler and a squirming baby.” “Tell me you tracked them down and not Dorothea,” Flip said with a laugh, fully aware of the iron-fisted librarian. “I did. I had to explain to them the ramifications of public indecency and that bathrooms are terrible venues for… activities of that nature. I totally grilled them about birth control too, making them squirm in their seats.” Flip’s laughter erupted, filling the gaps of tension that lingered. “I bet they were mortified.” “Exceedingly mortified,” I assured him, grinning at the memory of their flushed faces while his humor settled into a comfortable familiarity, the Flip I cherished. After clearing the last plate, he graciously paid for the lunch, despite my protests. Then we hopped onto the subway, where he instinctively lowered his ballcap and shifted a discarded newspaper to grant me the inside seat. I nestled in, feeling the warmth of his form beside me as his knee jostled into the aisle, his lean frame taking up more room than I could handle. He glanced at the paper, and right there, in black and white, Connor and I stared back from the page. I had no idea how they snagged that snapshot, but at least it wasn’t unflattering. The headline, on the other hand, cut like a knife — *Hockey’s Most Hated Player Engaged!* “Wow, Connor looks like a serial killer,” Flip snickered. “Not always, but in this case? Yeah, maybe.” He snatched the paper to read the article, his brows knitting together. “This headline feels intentional. I can’t believe you’re splashed across the newspaper.” “Better me than you,” I quipped, snatching the paper back and shoving it into my purse with a raised eyebrow. “I haven’t had bad press lately,” he replied, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “I know, and I’m proud of you for that,” I said, patting his arm. He rolled his eyes, feigning modesty. “I don’t deserve an award for controlling myself.” “No, but you deserve recognition for understanding it’s not just about you; it’s about the people you love.” His quiet chuckle seemed to hang in the air, filled with shared understanding. Flip let out a breath laden with emotion. “But I didn’t damage Rix and Tristan’s relationship, or mine with them, so there’s a silver lining somewhere amid the chaos.” “It’s all about finding those silver linings,” I added softly. “I get why Connor feeds into the negativity, though,” he continued in a quieter tone. “Eventually, you start believing what they say about you — that the sum of your existence is reduced to what’s written, and my past has fed into that belief just like his.” “True,” I agreed. “We all wear masks to hide the mess that lies beneath.” “All of us,” he echoed. Connor’s mask of indifference protected a heart more tender than anyone realized. As we reached my stop, Flip stepped off with me, reluctant to let me go. “I can make it to the library from here, you know,” I reassured him. “It’s a routine I’m accustomed to, five days a week.” “I know, but you just got engaged to a media magnet and a rich family,” he countered, a frown creasing his brow. “I want you to feel safe, especially if someone recognizes you.” He ruffled his hair in frustration. “I’m surprised Grace hasn’t hired a bodyguard or arranged for a car service.” “I have a car.” “That piece of junk? Held together by duct tape and hope? It’s a miracle every time it starts,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “Public transit works just fine. I don’t need a car service, and I definitely don’t need security,” I told him firmly; it would feel suffocating, impossible to live any semblance of a low-profile life with that kind of protection. Flip eyed me. “You’re serious?” “Absolutely. I can handle myself just fine.” We arrived at the library doors, and I turned to him. “I'll see you tonight for Bananagrams?” “Wouldn’t dream of missing it,” he replied, enveloping me in a warm hug that grounded my swirling thoughts. Stepping inside, the soft scent of books enveloped me like a warm embrace. Suddenly, Odette, one of my fellow librarians, bounded over, waving a different newspaper. The headline screamed at me: *Hockey’s #1 Villain Is Getting Married!* The media scrutiny around Connor loomed in my mind, yet somehow, this came across as a harsher condemnation of our lives together. How could anyone not internalize that? “Oh my gosh!” Odette feigned a scream—an act she was notoriously fond of. “I can’t believe you’re engaged! Can I see the ring?” I held out my hand, the diamond catching the light, its size obnoxiously large. Maybe I should’ve left it behind today. Her eyes widened dramatically. “That’s massive! How many carats is it?” “I haven’t a clue.” That wasn’t a question I had thought to ask while signing the contract for a staggering quarter of a million a month. “Dorothea thought you wouldn’t come in today,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Why on earth wouldn’t I?” I challenged, perplexed. “Because you’re marrying a hockey player, and his family is rich beyond measure.” “And I’m going to abandon all my responsibilities and disappoint everyone who counts on me for programming?” As I gathered my materials for the reading circle, I felt a swell of gratitude that the mom-and-tots session was set to start in mere moments. Odette’s furrowed brow communicated her doubt. “When you phrase it that way…” “It makes me feel amazing that Dorothea holds me in such high regard,” I replied, teasingly, as Everly marched over, her twin brother trailing her like a dedicated sidekick. “You made it!” “I didn’t have much of a choice,” Everly grumbled, annoyance saturating her tone. “Thanks for reaching out to the group home,” I said with a smile, keenly aware that most wouldn’t understand how I had inadvertently sentenced her to community service. Victor spoke up, “You need those hours to graduate. Dred was kind enough to offer this opportunity.” Everly shot him a glare. “Why can’t you just give me some of yours?” Victor had a surplus of a hundred hours banked. “Because then you wouldn’t get this enlightening experience,” I countered, passing her the bin loaded with juice boxes and cookies. “Let’s entertain some kids who still act like they own the world.” Grumbling under her breath, Everly reluctantly followed, her twin dutifully at her side. The mom-and-tots reading circle was a highlight of my week. Most parents were young mothers resorting to alternative solutions, unable to afford the expensive programs. I had forged connections with some nurses who were always willing to help out after the reading, answering questions from moms in attendance. I arranged for Everly and Victor to distribute the snacks, forcing her into the direct line of communication with the young women and their adorable, clinging toddlers. A combination of crying and crawling children attacked the scene – the chaotic symphony made me feel validated in my undertone about safe sex. I cradled one crying baby so her mother could comfortably pump in the corner while reading, passing off a story to Everly to manage the next pages, a chorus of “Awws” blinking on and off in the air around us. Victor voiced the male characters, while halfway through, Everly took over the female roles as I dashed off to change a diaper. Once the chaotic group depopulated, I watched Everly and Victor gather the remnants. As Victor slipped away to the restroom, I seized the moment to turn to Everly. “I’m not going to say you’re too young to get involved in adult activities,” I began cautiously. “But if you’re going to explore those avenues, please be responsible. Use birth control, and don’t choose one over the other, because a child is a lifelong commitment.” “It wasn’t for my parents,” she grumbled sadly. “I get that,” I nodded, feeling the pulse of shared experiences in my chest. “But you can break that cycle by making healthier choices for yourself.” “I went to the clinic,” she finally confessed, albeit begrudgingly. “Good for you. But just know you still have to ride this wave with me for the mom-and-tots reading until you rack up those community hours.” Solidifying lessons often meant reinforcing the point. Her eye roll was audible. “Fine.” I handed her the leftover snacks as a bribe. “Here are your goodies for your effort.” With Everly and Victor off home, a tide of curiosity surged from my colleagues about my engagement, and I deftly dodged the more personal inquiries about Connor. Evening arrived, and I took the subway home, reaching for my mail with a sudden lurch of dread at the sight of a new envelope from the property manager. I waited until I reached my apartment to pry it open. An eviction notice flashed before me. Unless I could pay back the staggering hundred grand in rental adjustments by the end of this month, I’d be forced out. Less than two weeks remained. “Shit.” My fingers pressed into my temples, throbbing under the weight of reality. Connor had promised to handle this, but this twist tossed a wrench in our plans. Conveying it meant confronting him — possibly seeing him again. I was still grappling with where to file that kiss from the engagement party, struggling to lock it away neatly in a box that wouldn’t pop open unexpectedly. My phone buzzed joltingly in my pocket, ratcheting my anxiety higher. I shoved the eviction letter into my bag mindlessly and dug out my phone. Of course, Connor seemed to possess a supernatural sense of when I was thinking about him. **Connor:** Meems is out of books. **Dred:** I’ll bring more by tomorrow. Just send me a list. A follow-up photo showcased her scrawl, and I couldn’t help but smile, knowing she’d adore the highland warriors series — and knowing that tomorrow, I could learn just how committed Connor was to keeping his word.