Page 17 of Love Off Script

“This is for you.” She handed it to me, and I moved to let her in. “I like your shirt.” She chuckled, and I was glad it could break the ice.

“I’m glad it could make you smile. And thank you for the wine. I was going to offer you a glass because I already have some open.”

She walked inside, and instead of appraising the place like I had feared she would, she slid her shoes off and sat at the table. “I’m okay. Thank you. I might have a drink after I eat, but there is no way it would sit well on an empty stomach.”

I eyed her and chuckled. “I’m sorry, but you work around prepared meals all day. Why on earth haven’t you eaten?”

With a single swipe of her hand across her face, I sensed an energy shift as if a heaviness had washed over her.

“I was avoiding Yoni.” She didn’t elaborate, but there was more to the story.

Should I pry? Or give her the space to fill me in on her own time? I still struggled with how to handle her. So I put the wine in the fridge to buy me some time. When I turned back to the table, she sighed.

“It makes me feel immature, but being around her can sometimes be trying.” Her shoulders dropped, and relief seemed to wash over her after that confession.

“That’s not immature. You know you can’t be the person you want to be when she’s around, so you’re choosing not to be around her during those times. That’s called boundaries, and it’s more than okay to set them.”

Her eyes shifted around like they were following a clock, but her face lightened. “I like that perspective. I was worried my past hurt was causing me to be resentful.”

I rolled that sentence around in my head but couldn’t dissect it. I needed clarification, so this time, I directed the conversation. “Past hurt from her?” I pulled out the chair across from Shiloh, not wanting to get in her personal bubble.

I needed to keep things casual so she didn’t feel like this was part of the show—technically, it wasn’t—but maybe I could find some quotes in there that would show growth by the end of the week.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, and I thought there might have been a story there by the interaction today.

“Do you want to talk about it?” My approach tonight would be more open-ended. The direct questions I had asked in the past didn’t provide me with many solid leads. But if I could get her to talk freely, maybe I could pick up some things to further the conversation.

She hitched one shoulder up. “I don’t know that there’s anything to say. We dated for a while, but now we’re strictly coworkers.”

That had to be awkward. I couldn’t imagine having to spend unwanted time with Davia, especially because she was a massive flirt like Yoni. I wouldn’t want to see that—not because I wanted her back, but because it would make me sick to my stomach that I was so wrong about someone I once loved. It would make me question myself, which didn’t sit well with me.

“She likes to play the field, and I like to be settled inside the dugout. We are better off as business partners and nothing else. She and I aren’t good on paper or in person.” She forced a smile, but she seemed over it, which was good.

“I get that. Sometimes, our choices aren’t based on logic. Words, actions, or even potential can trick us into thinking something is a good idea when it isn’t.”

“I think mine was convenience,” she said deadpan, but I laughed.

“What does that mean?” I smirked, and she finally broke her seriousness.

“I didn’t have to make an effort. Since we worked together and she had made the first move, it seemed like an easy choice. She was the decision-maker, and I liked that. It took away some of my anxiety.” She shrugged, but that probably happened more than I knew.

“Well, let’s hope this new person, what’s her name?” I figured it was time to focus on why she was here, and this seemed like a good segue into that.

Her lips curled into a wider smile, and a blush crept into her cheeks. “Ember,” she responded in that low voice that was barely audible.

“Alrighty. Well, I hope Ember is more your type, then.” I pulled out my phone, and she froze.

“Are you recording this?” Her eyes got wide in panic, and I shook my head.

“No, I was going to figure out where to get food so we could eat while we talked. I told you I wouldn’t do anything until you’re ready. Please view this as two friends hanging out and discussing the chicks they like—that’s it.”

She tilted her head as if questioning something. “So that means you have someone to talk about, too?” Of course, she took my words literally.

“I don’t, but I would tell you all about her if I did.” That seemed safe to say since I knew it would never happen, but hopefully, it would also get her to realize that this wasn’t just a job for me.

There were very few people I didn’t get drained by being around, and so far, she was one of them. She wasn’t talking to me because she thought I was “famous.” In fact, she would probably like me better if I wasn’t. I didn’t have to worry about her intentions, which was refreshing. So many people thought they knew me because of my show and social media, which made being in public downright exhausting.

How could I explain that my podcast persona wasn’t me? It was me, but an amplified version of me to engage the listeners. I didn’t want to be “on” all the time, which was how most people thought of me.

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