Page 102 of Still Yours
“No way.” I rear back, splaying my hands. “I’m not anyone’s charity case, despite what the media tells you. This—what’s going on with Stone and I—is a blip. I’m a better woman than what you see in front of you. I’m not normally this messy. I’m notbrokenand in need of help.”
“Who’s discussing you as a woman?” Saint is openly thrown. “I’m talking about your culinary abilities. I’m sure as hell not a therapist who can listen to you unpack anything else. And I don’t do charity. I see potential, and I want to capitalize on it. And Iwillmake money off you if you take my advice, get out of Falcon Haven, and do something better for yourself.”
I don’t know how to answer him, so I just stare.
He sighs. “I’ll let you finish up. Then I’ll walk you to your car, and you can think about it.”
Saint doesn’t give me time to answer, walking away until he disappears around the corner.
Leaving me with the biggest, most life-changing decision of my life as his salute.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Noa
Carly’s waiting in front of my hotel when I pull in.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, shutting my car door. “And—how?”
Carly holds up her phone in answer. “Find My Friends, friend. I can locate you anywhere, especially in a crisis where you have to leave town in order to save face.”
My head lolls back and I stare at the starry sky in exhaustion. Puffs of my exhale obscure the brilliant view. “The more I think about it, the more I wonder if running away fixes anything.”
Carly makes a sympathetic sound as she slips her arm around my waist, and we walk inside. “It’s probably one of those catch-22 situations. You can’t win either way, just do what’s best for you.”
“You sound like Mrs. Stalinski,” I say longingly. “I miss her.”
“Not as much as I’m sure you miss a cold glass of chardonnay. As your bestie, it’s my job to direct you to the nearest bar.”
My body angles toward her, agreeing with that notion before my mind does. It’s been an exhausting day compounded by ademanding night—and capped off with a heavy decision. It’s on my lips to unload on Carly, tell her about this crazy Paris opportunity that I didn’t see coming, but I stop myself, thinking it’s better to do this after a few sips of wine before I hear everything my lovely, opinionated friend has to say.
She isn’t here as my drinking buddy. Carly wants to dissect the breaking news today and Stone’s role in it. That alone will require some prolonged sips.
I’m not one to deny the friend that stood by me anything she wants to know, so I break the ice once we sit down and the hotel bartender takes our order. The bar area has an old-fashioned vibe meant for the cigar-smoking men of old, with dark wood, brass finishings, and embellished mirrors behind rows of liquor.
“Did you read the article?” I ask.
“Did I read the article,” she repeats, snorting. “Hell yeah, I did. About twenty times. Say my favorite word to me, and I’ll get right on it.”
I respond with a small smile.
“C’mon,” she nudges. “Do it. Say it.”
“It’s not libel,” I admit, leaning back as far as I can on the barstool.
“Dammit. I meant for you to say itwithoutcanceling it out.”
“You were there. Everything this reporter wrote about is the truth.”
“I’d hardly call her a reporter. More like aGossip Girlreject who probably has a lizard as a pet and plays online bingo in her spare time.”
The bartender sets our glasses down at the perfect time. I’m in the middle of quenching my stress when Carly bursts out with that line, and I nearly choke.
“Your loyalty is unmatched, even when it makes no sense,” I say after collecting myself. “But sadly, there’s nothing other than our mutual opinion of her to go on.”
“You’re annoyingly correct.” Carly rests her chin in her hands and sighs. “I turned that article upside-down and sideways. She alluded to an abortion, but not enough to sue. The joy of the First Amendment.” She lifts her wine. “Cheers to that.”
“Your support means a lot. And coming here when it’s completely out of your way.”
