Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 65643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“Noemi, what do they have?” I repeated when she didn’t answer. “Pictures? Eyewitnesses? A concierge’s rumor? Come on, I need to know.”
“They have pictures,” she said. “The two of you in Turks and Caicos. Holding hands on the cliffs.”
It never ceased to amaze me how no matter what you did, no matter where you were, if someone wanted to, they could almost always find a picture. Someone must have recognized Destiny and snapped the picture of us. Maybe they’d posted it and that was how Noemi’s source had found it. Maybe they’d left it on their camera roll and never thought about it again until a reporter called them, asking if they’d been on the same tour of the conch bar caves on November 4th as Destiny Pollock, and if so, did they remember if she was with anyone?
“That’s not much,” I muttered, thinking of about a dozen ways to explain that off.
“Are you telling me that’s all it was?” Noemi asked in disbelief.
“No, but if that’s all they have, I can fix this.” My foot was jiggling impatiently now, and I was glad Noemi was on the phone so she couldn’t see it. Again, I wished I could fix things between us, explain everything, but there just wasn’t time. She’d have to wait. For the first time in twenty years, Noemi wasn’t the most important woman in the world to me.
“It’s not all.”
“What?” I asked, distracted.
“It’s not all they have, Garrett. They also have pictures of you going in and out of her apartment building, and shots of you two eating breakfast with your parents.”
I closed my eyes and, against the backdrop of my eyelids, watched the plans I’d started building collapse. There was no way around it. We were fucked. If this was just a story about Noemi’s ex-husband sleeping with her former co-star, it would have merited maybe a few inches in the middle of People. But Andrew Quinn was the gasoline this story needed to really blow up. Magical Melody was cheating on good guy Michael with Noemi Thompson’s ex-husband. And get this, the poor sap had brought her home to meet the folks. It was so good. A tabloid journalist’s wet dream.
And I’d handed it to them on a silver platter. Built the pyre and lit the match. And it was Destiny’s career that was feeding the flames. I felt sick. I was going to be a background figure in the scandal, but she was going to be front and center.
I had to fix it.
For once, I didn’t know how.
“Garrett?” Noemi’s voice sounded like it was coming from a long way off. “Garrett, are you there?” I heard the tenor of her voice slide from anger to concern. “Garrett.”
“I’ve got to go, Nome. I’m sorry about this shit. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.”
“How was it supposed to go down, Garrett?”
If she’d still sounded pissed, I would have hung up on her. I didn’t have time for it. But her voice was quiet, a little sad. It reminded me of the day she told me she wasn’t in love with me anymore. The day I thought was the worst day of my life, but at least I could fix things. Not our marriage, but I could tell her that everything was going to be fine. I wasn’t mad at her for not being in love with me anymore. She wasn’t going to lose me as her best friend.
Now, though, I’d ruined the most important thing in the life of the person who was most important to me, and I couldn’t fix a damn thing.
I shook my head even though Noemi couldn’t see me. “I love her, Nome. And now I’ve fucked everything up for her.”
She inhaled sharply. “You love her? Have you told her?”
I laughed reflexively, but the sound was devoid of humor and dry as the Sahara.
“You should tell her.”
“Yeah? How should I do that?” I scrubbed a hand over my eyes and tilted my head back. A deep throb was beginning to pulse at the base of my cranium. “Your career is in the toilet, but hey, here’s your consolation prize.”
“Your love isn’t a consolation prize, Garrett.” Noemi was moving. I could hear people calling her name. She put her hand over the receiver to ask where her car keys were. She had to go. She had to go right now. “Are you at home?”
“Don’t come here, Nome.”
“I want to see you!” Someone handed her her car keys. She thanked them, then to me, “I had no idea, Garrett. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have just thrown this in your face if I’d known you loved her.”
I could hear the distress in her voice. Automatically, I adjusted my own to soothe her. “I know you wouldn’t. We’ll talk later. Right now, I have to go see her.”