Loathe at First Sight: A small-town enemies to lovers romance: The Lawsons: Book 1 (The Lawson's)

37. Fake News

thirty-seven

Liz

“Hey, Ronnie,” I answer my phone as I struggle to hold it with my full hands. “Can I call you back? I’m a little busy. I told Esther I would help her get the inn ready to sell, and Jack and I just got back from Miami—”

She stops me. “Oh my gosh, you haven’t seen them.”

“Haven’t seen what?” I ask, slowly setting the stack of books down on an empty counter.

“I’m going to send you something. Hold on.”

“Ronnie?” I ask, but there’s no answer. “Ronnie, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

My phone vibrates against my cheek, and I look at it to see the link that she sent.

My stomach drops out my ass when I see the tabloid headline.

Where has Jackson Barnett been? And who is his new tryst?

And there, splattered all over the screen are photos of us. Photos of us at the beach. Photos of us walking into his mom’s place. Even a photo of us kissing after he told me he loved me.

“What the fuck?” I murmur. “How did anyone even know we were there?”

“I have no idea, but something stinks.”

My eyes start to scan the article, and at this point, I’m not hearing anything else my sister is saying.

“Hey, Ronnie, can I call you back later?”

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

Before she can utter another word, I hang up. Not bothering to find a chair, I sit on the floor cross-legged in front of the desk.

I force myself to scroll back to the top and try to read from the beginning.

“Where has the infamous Jackson ‘The Beast’ been the past few years? It seems that he traded in sunny Miami for the rainy skies of a small town in Oregon. But that’s not the only thing he’s traded in these days. He gave up his supermodel girlfriends for Eliza Lawson, a former realtor from LA.”

I stop reading for a minute, trying to keep myself from throwing up. How the hell did they even recognize him? And how do they know who I am?

Were they following us the entire time?

When I manage to turn back to the screen, I see a couple of paragraphs about me. I see phrases like, “trouble with the IRS” and “lost everything.”

Anger courses through me the more that I read.

“Both Barnett and Lawson have seemingly lost everything, so what are the two of them doing together? Is it some sort of relationship of mutual depravity? Or is it simply a huge PR scheme to try to get their names heard again? Clearly, Ms. Lawson has nothing going for her, but what exactly does she think she’s going to get out of the Washed-Up Beast?”

I sit in stunned silence, unsure of what to do next. Jack is going to be so fucking mad. He’s worked so hard to start his life over again, out of the public eye, yet here he is.

Fuck.

I have no idea how long I sit here before someone walks through the door. I look up to see Dylan.

He wastes no time in taking a seat next to me. “Ronnie called. I came right over.”

Without warning, I start crying.

Dylan wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t listen to anything that stupid article says. It’s a tabloid. It’s meant to be full of bullshit.”

I lean into him and let my tears flow. With four sisters, Dylan has had his shirt wet with snot and tears more times than I’m sure he can even count.

“I know you’re sad,” he begins.

I interrupt him. “I’m not sad. I’m pissed! Who the fuck does this writer think he is? And I use the term writer very loosely. Jack and I are just trying to start our lives over again, but it’s hard to do that when people can’t mind their own business. And I mean, I’m a fucking nobody compared to him! Why do they even care about me?”

“I don’t know, Lizzie,” he says.

I get up off the ground and start pacing, prompting him to ask, “Have you talked to Jack yet?”

I quickly wipe away my tears. “No. But he’s going to be so mad. He’s done so much to make a different life, but none of it even mattered.”

“Do you think he’s going to be mad at you?” He asks.

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Because it’s not your fault. They probably recognized him and then started looking into you.”

“I still feel like it’s my fault,” I admit.

“It’s not. And Jack isn’t going to think it is either. That man is the most level-headed guy I know.”

God, I hope so.