Page 37 of Never Been Worse

“Who’s Wes Holden’s New Girl?”the headline reads, and I smile to myself, realizing in a week or two, it will be Who is Wes Holden’s New Wife? Leo has yet to spill that bit of juicy gossip, and considering Harper was only wearing her engagement ring at the resort to fuel rumors and everyone at the wedding was on tight NDA lockdown, it hasn’t leaked yet. Leo loves the drama of controlling a secret and dropping it whenhewants to.

“We look good,” I say, tipping my head to the article, moving my body closer to hers, and looking over her shoulder.

A deep blush runs over Harper’s cheeks and down her chest.

“I look nearly pornographic in that bathing suit,” she replies, flipping the page.

There are a few more photos of us holding hands at the resort or going to dinner, but mostly from the first day there. The second day, I asked Leo not to tip anyone off and to discourage tabloids and paparazzi from taking photos, wanting Harper to have one relaxing day before we jump into the chaos of this new-to-her life. I don’t know if she caught on, but if she did, she didn’t mention it.

Still, the photos they managed to get are all perfect, both in making our relationship seem morerealthan before, and because they’re just great shots—I make a mental reminder to have Leo reach out and get some copies because if things go the way I’m planning, we’ll want them one day.

Harper must be reading the actual article instead of taking in the photos like I am because she groans aloud. Youhaveto be kidding me,” she mumbles before pointing to a paragraph that I quickly read.

We reached out to who our sources have told us is Miss Abbott’s most recent ex-boyfriend, Jeremy Vaughn, head of marketing for Astor Fashion House, but he declined to comment. His current girlfriend, socialite Clarissa Astor, however, was willing to give a statement to us. “She’s absolutely insane,” Miss Astor told Fans Weekly. “It was an amicable breakup after my sweet Jeremy learned she was only with him for his ties in the fashion industry. Clearly, her work isn’t that remarkable since she’s gotten nowhere but designing ugly pageant gowns in the years dating him, but she’s still holding on. Just a few weeks ago, she was caught vandalizing his home because she’s so obsessed with him.”

I don’t expect the anger burning in my chest at the lies spread about her, but when I see the look of hurt tinged with Harper’s own anger, I need clarification.

“That’s his new girlfriend? The one he was cheating on you with?”

She sneers before nodding. “She’s the one that’s been making a full-time job of talking shit about me and ruining my reputation. Jeremy might be doing the behind-the-scenes work, but she’s telling every tabloid she can about their fairy-tale romance and how I’m essentially just the evil stepsister in her story.”

“Does it bother you?” I ask, and she looks at me, clearly confused.

“Her talking shit about me? Absolutely. People are buying what she’s selling, and it’s messing with my name and reputation.”

“No, him moving on so quickly? Though, I guess, the bad press, too. All of it, really.” She shifts, looking over her shoulder and reading me as if trying to understand the motivation for my questions.

She lets out a small, self-conscious laugh and shakes her head, closing the magazine and putting it back on the rack. “Well, to your first question, no. Not really. I thought I would when it first happened. Thought I’d be heartbroken to lose him and see him moving on. Let’s just say, it’s been… a very eye-opening month or so.”

“How so?”

She takes a deep breath and begins moving in the direction we were headed. I think she’s going to write me off, but then she starts to speak.

“You know, my friends are falling in love, getting married, having babies, and I’m seeing whatbeing in love—and beingloved—really looks like. It’s a strange and uncomfortable feeling, knowing I spent so long with this man, convinced myself that we were going to spend forever together, and realize I never had that. I neverfeltthat. I sacrificed so much for the bare minimum, and I was okay with that.”

I look at her profile as we walk, her face stern as she stares straight ahead, avoiding looking at me as she shrugs. “So it’s kind of…embarrassing, maybe? To see someone you’d convinced yourself you’d spend forever with moving on and not even feel a pang of hurt over losing him. I’m hurt about.” She pauses, as if she’s trying to choose her words carefully, then shakes her head. “Everything else.”

“The bad press?”

She tips her head from left to right, weighing her response before answering.

“Yes and no. Public opinion, I don’t care about, not really. It will all die down eventually, and something new and exciting will cast a shadow on it. It’s a bit inconvenient and frustrating, but in a month or two, no one will remember it. Plus, we have a plan in place to combat that.” Finally, she looks at me and gives me a small smile.

“That we do.”

We keep walking, both of us in our own heads, before she speaks again.

“It’s...the behind-the-scenes stuff.”

“How so?” I’m hesitant to ask too many questions, seeming to constantly straddle the line between encouraging her to talk and avoiding her closing me out. It appears like that was the right question, though, when she explains.

“Jeremy, despite not having a creative bone in his body, has ties in the industry. As Head of Marketing, he does a lot of the talking to the press and has alotof connections. He knows I want to move beyond custom pageant gowns, and I’ll need to have connections to do that. I'm worried he’s whispering about me and ruining those opportunities before they even have the chance to come to fruition. For example, he gave me a contact for fabric months ago, and I’ve been going back and forth with them a lot since. They’re usually super responsive, but I called them last week, and they never returned my call. I know in my gut Jeremy has something to do with that.” She shrugs, then plays it off. “But there are a million suppliers around, so that’s not a huge problem. Still, it’s a small industry, so it weighs on me.”

“Well,” I start, not wanting to belittle her worries but also wanting to help fix them. “When we get back, we can talk to Leo about it and see what he says. He has contacts for pretty much everything under the sun.”

Harper shakes her head, her hair in that high ponytail swaying a bit. “That’s not necessary, I don’t need anyone to go out of their way for me and my drama.” She pauses, then adds, “Or, more than they already are.”

“You’re my wife, Harper,” I say. “It’s not going out of my way to help you.” She stops walking then, stares at me, and opens her mouth to argue, but as she does, an announcement that our flight is boarding comes overhead. “Come on, Mrs. Holden. Let’s go home.”

---