Page 94 of Pucking My Grumpy Accidental Husband
Dax stands up and moves beside me, his hand finding mine. "What's next is we continue building something real together, both personally and professionally. We continue proving that love and excellence aren't contradictory concepts. And we continue working with an organization that values character and results over gossip and speculation."
"Thank you," Martinez says. "No more questions."
As we file out, reporters keep shouting questions, but I'm focused on the warmth of Dax's hand in mine and the realization that we just declared war on the entire sports media establishment.
"That went better than expected," I murmur as we escape to Martinez's office.
"Check your phone," Jamie says, grinning again. "Social media's exploding."
I pull out my phone to find hundreds of notifications. Twitter is absolutely losing its mind, but surprisingly, not all of it's negative.
"@ChicagoSports: 'Finally, a sports psychologist who actually improves team performance instead of just cashing checks. #TeamTessa'"
"@HockeyAnalytics: 'The statistical evidence is overwhelming. Bennett's impact on Chicago's performance metrics is undeniable. This is professional excellence, not scandal.'"
"@WomenInSports: 'A brilliant woman gets attacked for being brilliant AND loved. Shocking. Support Dr. Bennett! #RelationshipGoals'"
But there are plenty of ugly comments too, calling me everything from a gold-digging whore to a manipulative bitch who's destroying professional sports.
"Don't read those," Dax says immediately, noticing my expression. "Focus on the supporters."
"There are a lot of supporters," I admit, scrolling through dozens of positive comments from fans, other sports psychologists, and even some players from other teams.
My phone rings with that unknown number again, and this time I recognize the area code. "I think it's the publisher."
"Answer it," Martinez says. "If you're going to control the narrative, might as well do it with a book deal."
I swipe to accept. "Dr. Bennett speaking."
"Dr. Bennett, this is Rebecca Whitmore from Harmony Publishing. I've been watching your press conference, and I have to say, you two are exactly what the sports world needs right now."
"Thank you. I have to ask—is this offer legitimate?"
"Completely. We're prepared to offer a significant advance for a co-authored book about relationship equity in professional sports, with a focus on challenging gender assumptions in male-dominated industries. Full marketing support, national book tour, potential television interviews."
I look at Dax, who nods encouragingly.
"What kind of timeline are we talking about?"
"Fast. We'd want to strike while this story is still relevant. First draft in six months, publication within a year. Are you interested?"
"We're very interested. But we'd need to discuss terms and approach."
"Of course. I'm flying to Chicago tomorrow. Could we meet?"
I put the phone down but keep Rebecca on the line, the room falling silent for a moment.
"So," Jamie says finally. "You're going to write a book about this clusterfuck?"
"We're going to write a book about how love and professionalism can coexist," I correct. "About challenging outdated assumptions and proving that personal happiness actually enhances professional performance."
"That's either brilliant or completely fucking insane," Luca observes.
"Probably both," Dax says, pulling me against his side. "But we've never been particularly sane anyway."
My phone buzzes with a text from Mrs. Kingston:
Saw the press conference. You two were magnificent. Emma and I will be there tonight. Also, I may have told that reporter who called me that if he bothered us again, I'd introduce his face to my cast iron skillet.
