Page 29 of Beautiful Revenge
I shake my head and wave it off. “Hey, it’s not gossip if you’re talking to me about me, right? You’re good.”
He exhales a breath of relief. “I didn’t think about it that way. It’s just, we all worked the wedding. That Albert guy, he was really mad. We all saw it. I’m pretty sure you made the right decision.”
I think about how I should be on a private jet zooming around the world to my honeymoon at this exact moment. Instead I’m here with young Blake. “Trust me, I absolutely made the right decision.”
He nods emphatically. “Do you know if the magazine is still going to run the story? We have bets going on who got in the shots in the background. The pool is over four-hundred bucks. It’s exciting.”
“I’m not sure. Sounds more exciting than my experience. If I hear, I’ll let you know.”
His smile is wolfish and friendly. He also doesn’t mince words. “You’re so cool. I’ll spread theword—about the bet, that is. But I’ll also let them know you’re nothing like your dickhead fiancé.”
“Ex-fiancé,” I correct him. “And I can’t lie, it’s a relief.”
He backs away with a low wave that’s cute and not at all nonchalant like he’s going for. “Don’t forget about the risotto.”
I shake my head. “Oh, I won’t.”
And with that, he disappears through the live greenery and trees that fill the dining room. The ceiling and walls are all glass and look over the lake. Now I know why the restaurant is called The Greenhouse.
When my waiter stops by, he isn’t nearly as talkative as my new friend, Blake. He returns with a glass of sparkling water. I don’t look at the menu and order the special with a glass of wine. If Blake is going to spread the word that I’m nothing like thedickhead, I need to do everything I can to work on my small-town public relations.
Hell, I should care about what the world thinks of me after the fiasco I orchestrated yesterday.
But I don’t have the energy to care. I do, however, want to win over the little town of Winslet.
I dig my cell from my purse when I feel it vibrate in the seat next to me.
Chrissie – Day one is in the books. I hope to have something to report tomorrow. Tell me you’re still alive. I can only deal with so many life-and-death calamities at a time.
Me – I’m anxious to hear what they say. And, don’t worry, I’m alive.
Chrissie – Good. Because you didn’t follow my orders. It’s been hours, and you have yet to alert me on your condition.
Me – I got some sun this afternoon. Is that what you want to know?
Chrissie – Breathing, Harlow. I need to know you’re alive and well.
Me – I’m good. You got your package?
Chrissie – Oh, I did! You spoil me. It wasn’t necessary, but you know I’ll take it.
Me - You’re going to have a lot of downtime. Binge away.
Chrissie – Books and docudramas. I’ll be set for weeks. And you wonder why I demand you update your life status. Where do you think my serial killer obsession comes from?
Me – I thought it was because of my dickhead ex-fiancé.
Chrissie – Him too. Definitely him. Stay alive. I’ll check in tomorrow.
Me – Enjoy the binge.
A glass of red appears in front of me. “Your cabernet.”
“Thank you.”
I tuck my cell back into my purse and pick up the wine. I’m never unplugged. Even when things were good with Albert, we were connected to our jobs and available at every moment.
There’s nothing like going through a life crisis to switch things up. Other than updates from Chrissie, I want to get comfortable in my own skin. I need to embrace my new life without the pressure from the outside world.
