Page 40 of Faking the Pass
“Well, this whole thingiskind of messing up my training schedule. And I was hoping to do some fishing during my forced break from playing.”
“The fish will still be there in a few days when this is all over,” Gray assured me. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Pretty sore. But I’m sure this is normal for six days post-op. They put in a couple plates and thirteen screws. I’ve got a follow-up appointment next week—that isifI can leave my own houseto get to it. How’s operation blonde-wig-at-the-airport coming along?”
“They saw a few cars take off to go check it out,” he said. “The rest of them are still out there, though.”
He gestured toward the front of the house and the street beyond it. “Unfortunately, I think these guys are devoting some extra resources to the story.”
I glanced back toward the hallway to make sure Rosie hadn’t returned.
“I feel so bad for her. As inconvenient as this is for me, I can’t imagine what it feels like for her.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen some scandals,” Gray said. “But this one’s a ten-point-oh on the Richter scale. The fiancé has had his people calling the office, demanding to speak to Wilder. I guess he’s ripshit he hasn’t been able to get in touch with Rosie.”
“She hasn’t had her phone. She left it at the mansion,” I explained.
“Yeah, I know. We retrieved it—it’s with her other stuff in her suitcase.”
A bolt of alarm went through my midsection. Rosie had her phone back.
That meant she’d be able to access social media and see all the asinine things people were saying about her. She was probably back there reading all that toxic shit right now.
“Well thanks. I appreciate you running the gauntlet out there for us.”
“Not a problem,” Gray said. “I was available, and you’re a friend. You two take care and stay safe.”
Then with a mischievous grin, he added, “And if your first week together is as memorable as mine and Scarlett’s was… well, then I’m sure I’ll be seeing youbotharound. Some things are just too good to let go of.”
Chapter 10
The Email
Rosie
After calling Danielle and assuring her I was okay, I sat on the bed scrolling through my feeds on one site after another.
Almost always a mistake. Reading the posts on my socials hurt.
Some people actuallytaggedme in them, as if I’dwantto see their mean comments.
One of them suggested I’d slept with Randy to get the role inOnce Upon a Charmand then dumped him as soon as I “got what I wanted” from the affair, stranding him at the altar and breaking his heart.
Other posts weren’t mean, more like concerned—about my safety, my mental health, wondering where I was and if I was okay or if I was maybe suicidal or something.
It was nice to see not everyone was rushing to judgment. At least some people out there realized I was a human being and not some soulless doll with no feelings at all.
Most of the posts made me seem ridiculous though, and maybe I was. I was a grown womanhidingfrom her life after all.
Obviously, I couldn’t keep doing that.
Reading all this wild speculation about what might have happened made that clear to me. I was going to have to address it soon, if not for my own sake then for Presley’s.
He was just as much a prisoner here as I was, and it wasn’t fair. The sooner I got out of his life, the better.
As far as I could tell, Randy still hadn’t put out a public statement, but he’d sent me about a thousand texts, demanding to talk. I didn’t even want to read them, but I knew I probably should.
Presley knocked on the bedroom door. “You okay in there?”
