Chapter 217:
An Unlikely Connection
Chris’s Point of View
The clamor which usually filled the boxing gym went deafeningly silent as soon as l I exited and the cold night air felt like it seemed to undulate over my skin. I reached up a little tighter, gripping the strap of my bag as I turned around. Already, I could feel the wheels in my head starting to turn. The first time that I met Megan had been- a whirlwind. Every week, the last pieces seemed to fall into place. Fake boyfriend to the famous boxer. Story of my life. Here I was, right in the middle of all this drama.
My cell phone buzzed my pocket, drawing me out of my thoughts. I fished it out and saw the message from Megan.
“Meet me at the diner on 5th. We need to talk.”
I sighed partly with excitement, partly with nerves. Megan was a whirlwind, our agreement fit the two of us just perfectly, but it was getting really hard to separate what was fake from my reality, what was real. Incessantly, I kept telling myself that this was just work, no matter what my heart said.
It was a diner: neon sign, checkered floors-a throwback to a different time. I let the bell jingle as I entered and walked to the back corner booth where Megan was seated, her dark eyes focused on the entrance. She motioned me over to the booth, and I slid right in, across from her.
“Hey,” I started, trying to be casual.
“Hey,” she replied, her voice softer than usual. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
She inhaled a big breath before her eyes dipped to the table and then met mine. “I’ve been thinking about this whole arrangement.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know it started as a way to shut down rumors and get my ex off my back, but things are more complicated now.”
I nodded, not exactly sure where she was going with this. “So? In what way?”
Megan leaned back against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “I didn’t expect to feel anything either. Spending time with you, working on the book. pretending to be a couple. It’s doing something to my head.”
I swallowed hard at the weight behind her words. “I get it. It’s been confusing for me too.”
“Really?” She sounded genuinely surprised. “I thought I was the only one struggling.”
“No, you’re not alone in that,” I admitted. “But we knew it would be tricky, right? Mixing business with whatever this is.”
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Chris, I don’t want to make things awkward, but I need to know-are we still on the same page with this?”
I stopped, carefully choosing my words. “I think that too. But, like I said, we need to continue talking about it, like we’re doing now. We can’t let this spiral out of control.”
She appeared to loosen up a bit, and the vaguest suggestion of a small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, ’cause communication is key, right?”
“Exactly.”
We sat in companionable silence for a moment, backdropped by the clatter of dishes and murmur of conversations, and then suddenly, Megan leaned forward. Her eyes sparkled just a little with the suggestion of mischief.
“Wanna get out of here? I know a place we can talk without interruptions.”
Touched by the idea, I accepted, and we were out of the diner, both of us walking down the line of the busy street exactly shoulder to shoulder. Megan brought me to a small and quiet park a few blocks away. It was a real hidden gem: a quiet central pond, empty benches beneath huge tree shades.
We found an empty bench and sat down as the noises of the city faded into the background.
“Thanks for coming out here,” Megan said, her voice softer now. “I needed some fresh air.”
“Anytime,” I said, and then smiled. “So, what’s on your mind?”
She took a deep breath and now focused on the pond. “I just guess I wanted to talk about us-not the fake part, but.. us.”
I nodded at her words, feeling the weight of them. “I appreciate that. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it lately too.”
She turned toward me then, her eyes questing within mine. “Have you? What have you been thinking?”
“It’s complicated,” I tried to say carefully, picking words properly. “But also that I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. The real you, not just the public persona.”
Megan started getting a real smile on her face. “It’s really nice for me too, Chris. You’re actually kind of different from all the guys I’ve ever met.”
“Different good or different bad?” I joked.
“Another good,” she came back, prodding me playfully, “you are real, genuine, honest, and you see me for what I am above all things, the boxing champion or the celebrity.”
“I try,” I said, really warmed by what she’d said.
We just sat there a moment, in quiet peace with each other. It was a rare moment of peace in the chaos our lives had become.
Megan finally broke the silence. “Chris, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Did you ever want to do this on your own? I mean, the whole fake boyfriend thing?”
I thought for a moment and shrugged. “If we’re going gloves off. Just being honest? All this was for the money. The opportunity to ghostwrite your book was not something to let pass. But now, I suppose it’s more than just a job.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “For me too. It has become very important.”
“Important in what way?”
She hesitated, took a deep breath, and then continued. “It’s important because it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing, real connections, real relationships, not this superficial stuff.”
I softly said, “I understand. There just isn’t time in our lives for those things when you work like we do.”
“Exactly.”
We both lapsed into silence after that, an awkward one, but now it felt comfortable, filled with new understanding.
At long last, Megan spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Chris, do you think we could ever be more than this? More than just a fake couple?”
At her question, my heart palpitated, feeling the weight of her question that hung in the space between us, and I inhaled deeply at the suddenness of it. I treated her question with a lot of thought before responding.
“I think anything’s possible,” I said finally. “But we’d have to be honest with each other. No more pretending.”
Again, she nodded, and there was a glint in her eyes when they locked on mine. “I can do that. If you can.”
“I can,” I told her.
“Good,” she said, that smile filling out her features. “Because I think we have something real here, Chris. Something worth exploring.”
I smiled back, and it was the first time in a long, long while that I had some kind of semblance of hope, of real excitement. “I think so, Megan. I really do.”
Sitting there, as night fell and the park came alive with its own vista of lights, I somehow felt the impossible, otherworldly may be love between us taking on a palpable shape. Maybe for the first time since all of this started, I felt the feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be.
We left the park and began to walk back in the direction of the lights of the city in a comfortable silence. We stopped at Megan’s building, and she turned toward me with a face that softened into vulnerability.
“Thanks for tonight, Chris,” she said finally. “I needed this.”
“Me too,” I replied, smiling. “Goodnight Megan.”
“Goodnight, Chris,” she returned, then turned to head inside after she lingered too long with my eyes by a second or two.