Chapter Seventeen
SEVENTEEN
HAILEY’S DAILY RULE FOR SUCCESS:
When all else fails, try the truth.
The empty football field is illuminated by floodlights, and a summer breeze rustling the palm trees is the only sound in the quiet, empty neighborhood. Warren, still in his tuxedo shirt and pants, sits in the bleachers, lost in thought as I approach.
“Hi,” I say nervously when he doesn’t look at me. I’ve been walking and thinking all evening—unsure what to do or where to go...until my heart led me here.
He continues to stare off across the field, body leaning forward, hands folded, elbows resting on his knees. He looks deep in thought.
“I know what it looked like...”
He turns toward me. I’d expected anger but not the hurt reflecting in his eyes. It’s painful to see, but also a slight relief to know that his feelings are genuine enough to be this upset.
“I just can’t believe I actually thought you were being honest when you said you weren’t trying to stop the wedding.” He shakes his head as though the disappointment is more at himself than me.
“Warren, I swear to you, I wasn’t.” I want to assure him of that, but more importantly, I want to assure him that his feelings and trust in me are still valid. That I have changed in these last few weeks and what we had was real. I know I need to deal with the Liam and Sonia fiasco and I will—with them—but right now, I want to fix what’s going on with Warren, with us.
Or what could be us.
“Yet you kissed the groom. Moments after you kissed me, by the way.”
“He kissed me!”
Warren scoffs.
“Oh come on, do you really think I would have kissed you if I was going to make a last second play for Liam?” That would be ridiculous. He has to realize that.
“Honestly, Hailey, I’ve given up trying to figure you out.”
Hurtful, but fair.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve felt the same way about myself numerous times. I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry about everything.” Seems like a good place to start. “I’m just as devastated about what happened as everyone else.” I wasn’t there to see the aftermath as I was running for my life, but my heart aches when I think about what Sonia is going through right now, how conflicted Liam must be, and how their family and friends are dealing with it...not to mention Liam’s career prospects with the Bankses moving forward and how this all impacts the new resort chain.
Warren scoffs again. “I doubt that. Sonia’s a mess and her family are really upset.”
“You’ve spoken to Sonia?” I’d expected him to be at Liam ’s side throughout the chaos.
“Someone had to clean up the mess after you and Liam both bailed.”
“In fairness, I was running for my life...”
Warren shoots me an exasperated look.
“Okay, so I messed everything up! That wasn’t my intent.” That’s a lie. I backtrack. “Okay, at first it was, but not during the wedding. Today, I promise you, I was fully on board and just trying to make the day happen.” For all our sakes.
Warren peers at me. “Why? What changed?”
“Come on, Warren. You know what changed,” I say softly. Everything. Over the last few weeks my feelings for him took such a sudden turn that I hadn’t had time to catch up, to process, to fully evaluate things...and then the kiss with him today revealed everything I needed to know. My own feelings had been crystal clear. They still are. I’m ready to take a chance on trusting someone...maybe not with the full version of who I am right away, but in time. Something about this connection with Warren feels different than any other I’ve ever had—it feels safe and makes me believe that I might actually be able to make that ultimate trust fall.
But Warren swallows hard, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I do. Anyway, like you said, what happened between us was nothing.”
I want to argue that we both know that’s not true, but I can feel the guard he’s put back up. His fear and hesitancy has him retaliating and while I’m desperate to break through that wall and reassure him that what was happening between us wasn’t nothing—not even close—I know anything I say right now will fall on a closed heart and I deserve that.
The only thing I can do is focus on Sonia and Liam. I swallow my own emotions and repress the urge to reveal my feelings for Warren.
“We need to get them back together.”
Warren looks incredulous as his head swivels toward me. “You’re still interfering? Haven’t you learned anything?”
Apparently not. “I want to make things right.”
“ Liam has to make things right.”
Still firmly on team Sonia, got it.
“That’s the thing. Liam thinks he’s meant to be with me.” He’s been calling and texting for hours. I’m ignoring him. Just like in my glimpse.
For once, I would have loved to have gotten it wrong!
Warren gets to his feet and throws his hands up. “Oh, for fuck’s sake Hailey.”
“But I know we’re not meant to be!”
Warren turns toward me. “A month ago, you felt differently. And news flash—their lives aren’t up to you. You think just because celebrities and professionals think your advice is gospel, it gives you the right to mess with everyone how you see fit.”
Truth hurts, but okay, I can own that. “I know. I do. I just...um...”
“Just what?”
Warren stares at me expectantly and I summon all the courage I’ve never been able to muster before. I need to tell him. Everything. The whole messy truth that sounds like something out of a speculative fiction movie. The secret I’ve kept to myself my entire life...
“I have this thing...a gift,” I blurt out.
He frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Here we go. Ultimate trust fall. “I can see into the future when my lifeline connects to another person’s. Not my own or anyone I’m close to. I’ve had it since I was a teenager and it’s never been wrong. I saw Liam heartbroken and originally it was because of Sonia—if he went through with this marriage—but now I think it’s because of me.” There. I said it. The truth is out. I’d thought I’d feel lighter if I ever shared this burdensome secret with someone, but only terror seizes me. I’ve just completely opened myself up to devastation.
“You’re saying you’re psychic?” he says it slowly and I know he thinks I’m full of shit.
Who wouldn’t? It’s the reaction I always knew I’d get if I told someone, but somehow it still aches that he doesn’t immediately believe me.
I take a deep breath. “That day at the airport, I saw what would have happened if you’d gone to the tryouts. I saw you get hurt. Really hurt,” I say. May as well keep going. I’m in this far already. And maybe if I tell him everything, there might be something he can grasp on to as a glimmer of truth.
Instead, Warren stares at me for a long beat, then shakes his head. “I don’t believe this.”
“I’ve never told anyone...besides my neighbor, Mrs. Cranshaw, but she thinks I’m a palm reader, so she doesn’t count.” I shake my head. Getting off track. “It’s how I’ve built my business.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You see into your client’s future and that’s how you advise them?”
I nod and predictably, understandably, Warren stares at me in disbelief. “And you supposedly saw Liam’s future? He’s with you?”
I hear the condescending tone, but I expected no less. “No. He was unhappy with Sonia and I intervened, thinking she was going to hurt him, but it turns out it’s all my fault.”
“Why?”
“I don’t love him. I don’t want a second chance. I can see his future now—I couldn’t when we were together—which means I don’t feel that way for him anymore.” I do want to keep the focus on the broken couple and give Warren time to process, but I can’t resist taking an opportunity to try to make him understand how I feel. I take a step forward and reach out to him. “The connection between us...”
Warren pulls away abruptly. “There is no connection.”
“Bullshit.”
“Not anymore,” he corrects with a resolute tone.
Disappointed, I take a deep breath and nod. He doesn’t believe me, naturally, and now he’ll never want to be with me.
He stares at me with pain and uncertainty reflecting in his eyes as though unsure whether to be mad at me or pity me. Then he moves past me and leaves me alone in the stands.
I watch him walk away across the field to the parking lot. I collapse onto the bleachers, feeling more desperate, vulnerable, and alone than I ever have and I have no one to blame but myself. I’ve interfered, meddled in ways I never should have. Warren’s right, I do think I have a right to mess with people’s lives.
And what impact has that truly had?
An hour later, Brooks’s Bar is hopping as the bouncer lets me in the velvet rope, past the disgruntled callouts of twentysomethings who’ve been waiting in line for hours. Loud hip-hop blasts from the speakers, the heavy, repetitive, disco-technic beat echoing in my chest. I almost wince—it’s loud and obnoxious. Strobe lighting is almost dizzying as I bump into people on my way to the bar. Strange looks are sent my way and I know I must seem like a walking disaster in my torn maid of honor dress and messy hair and makeup, but after leaving the football field, I came here almost on autopilot.
Darren stands behind the bar, doing flair work for a stagette. Women are seated on stools across from him, captivated and looking interested in more than his bartender skills. He expertly pours a round of pink shots, not spilling a drop from the shaker, and the ladies applaud the performance.
I butt my way through them to get his attention, and Darren smiles when he sees me. “Hey, Hailey, nice dress.”
I glance down at it with disdain. “Just came from a wedding.”
The bridal party next to me swoon.
“Which didn’t actually happen.” I can’t help it. It slips out.
The one wearing the bride-to-be sash looks freaked out as her entourage send me dirty looks and rush to reassure her that her wedding will be perfect.
Darren shoots me a look and says, “Shots on the house ladies,” to make up for my blunder.
The women move away from the bar—me—and Darren turns back to me, concerned. “You good?”
“Not really.”
“What can I get you?”
A time machine?
I sigh and fight the intensity of the conflict brewing inside of me. “I needed to talk to you.”
He finally notices my disheveled state and immediately puffs up and scans the bar for whoever might have messed with me. His Southern, country bad boy nature means he’d tear the person apart and I feel even worse that he’s so caring and protective of me.
Have I always put his best interests at the forefront?
“It’s not like that,” I reassure quickly and he deflates.
He tosses the drink shaker into a sink behind him and nods for me to follow him to the end of the bar, away from the speakers.
“What’s up?” he yells over the music, pulling out an earplug.
I stare at it in his hand. “I think I made a mistake.”
“You’ve come to the right place then. Lots of that happening as we speak.”
“No, I mean in my guidance, my career advice. This club. Your business.”
He frowns. “There’s a line about a mile long outside and those stagette women are overpaying for VIP service, even with the free shots.”
“I know. The bar is thriving...but...” I nod toward the earbud. “You’re miserable.”
He laughs good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“But this wasn’t the bar you wanted.”
“The bar I wanted would have been shut down in six months and I would have been slinging hay bales on my family farm for the foreseeable future.”
“We don’t know that,” I say. I mean, market research supported what my glimpse into Darren’s future had revealed, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have made it work. With hard work and determination, he could have followed his passion and maybe the bar wouldn’t have been this hopping and profitable, but he could have succeeded...on his terms.
He leans his elbows on the bar and levels with me, square in the eye. “Hailey, what’s this about?”
“I just think I may not have had your best interests in mind.”
“Of course, you did.”
“I’m just saying I think we could have at least tried your way...”
In fact, maybe it isn’t too late. An idea hits and I move away from the bar. I approach the DJ stand and awkwardly climb up onto the platform.
DJ Scale smiles at me and yells into the mic, “Hey, yo! Hailey Harris in da house!”
The crowd cheers (except for the stagette ladies) and I’m mortified. Not exactly the way I like to look when a spotlight is pointed on me. I give a forced smile and wave, then resume my mission. I lean close to him and move one of his headphones to the side to say, “Can you change the music for me?”
“Name your jam.”
I whisper my request in his ear and his expression changes to an odd look as he shakes his head. “I don’t think...”
“Please. Just try it.”
He glances across the bar at Darren, gives him a questioning look, and Darren nods as though to say, “Do what Hailey wants.”
The hip-hop vibe comes to a halt with a deafening sound of screeching vinyl. Followed by a long pause as club goers stop dancing and turn toward the DJ booth.
DJ Scale sighs and shrugs as if to say “your funeral” as he starts the track I requested.
A twangy Shania Twain song comes on—“Any Man of Mine”—it was admittedly the only country song I know and only because it was my mom’s favorite. She had this line dance from the video she always did while cleaning the house...
Here goes nothing.
I climb down from the DJ stand and make my way nervously to the wooden dance floor. The strobe lighting has stopped and the houselights have come on. The crowd looks annoyed, confused...amused as they move to the edge of the dance floor.
I’m alone in the middle of it and every fiber of my being wants to flee from the bar with whatever part of my pride I have left, but I’ve got this far and there’s no turning back.
I take a deep breath, put my hands on my hips the way my mom did a million times in our kitchen when she was practicing for her weekly line dancing night with her friends—the only time she ever had fun and let her hair down.
I count the beat and close my eyes, trying to summon the image of her.
I see it. Her smiling face, her foot tapping to the country beat. A lump forms in the back of my throat and tears sting the backs of my eyes.
It’s been an overwhelmingly emotional day.
One, two, three, four...
I open my eyes and break into the line dance sequence. I’m awkward and slightly off beat, but I keep going.
The crowd don’t know what to think.
I force enthusiasm as I gesture for them to join in. “Jump in when you’re ready. On the beat.”
No one does. But cell phone cameras come out. Naturally.
“This is fun.” I kick my heel and swing toward the bar, slightly off balance. “Darren, get out here!” I say, but it sounds more like a desperate plea for help than an invite to dance.
He hears it too as he jumps over the bar and onto the DJ stand a second later. He grabs the mic and forces a laugh. “Just kidding folks,” he says as he hands the mic back to DJ Scale, who sends me a sympathetic look as though I’ve just committed social suicide.
Immediately the song is cut off and the lights go down. Strobe lights and hip-hop music are back a second later. People stare at me as they reluctantly refill the dance floor. I stand there, in the torn maid of honor dress, helpless and depleted.
I’m a complete and utter train wreck.
I feel Darren’s hands on my shoulders leading me to the exit in a foggy daze of psychedelic lighting and bad decisions. Embarrassment hasn’t set in yet, I’m too numb for that, but I’m sure it’s coming. In waves.
We reach the door and Darren turns me gently toward him. He pulls me in for a hug and I sink into him, resting my head against his chest.
I hadn’t realized just how much I needed this hug, this comfort, this supportive gesture, but I cling to him and fight the waves of sadness, guilt, despair, and remorse washing over me.
He pulls back and bends at the knees to look at me. “Everything is always worse in the glow of neon light. Get some sleep, dollface.”
He gestures to the bouncer and a second later, he walks me to a taxi waiting near the curb.
I climb in and he leans in to kiss my cheek. “I’m happy, Hailey.” He closes the door and the taxi driver turns to me.
“Where to?”
Darren might be happy, but what about the rest of my clients?
I hesitate, common sense telling me to go home...
“Forty-eight Pine Street,” I say instead.
The taxi pulls up in front of a beautiful, big house in a nice neighborhood twenty minutes later. It’s dark and quiet, but the lights are on inside Alice’s front office. Through the window, I can see her at her laptop.
“I’ll just be a second,” I tell the driver.
But as soon as I climb out, he tears off almost before I have time to shut the door.
“Hey!” I yell after him. I hadn’t even paid him yet. Was I really that obnoxious recounting the events leading up to this tragic moment in time?
I stare at Alice’s house for a beat before heading to the front door. I ring the bell and listen for the sound of footsteps approaching from inside. I glance at the maid of honor dress. Maybe I should have headed home and changed first...or come by in the morning—it’s after midnight. Not exactly professional to be crashing in on a former client like this, but it just seems poetic...and justified in my current state of heightened emotion.
Ironically, in this moment, I’m everything I try to help my clients avoid.
A moment later, Alice answers, surprised to see me. “Hailey? What are you doing here?”
Say it quick and be done. “I’m here to tell you, you should write that book of your heart. The sci-fi Western romance. Do it. I was wrong to tell you to follow the market and write something else.”
Alice sighs and looks slightly sheepish. “I did write it. And well, it kinda sucks.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t,” I say quickly. I’ve gotten into her head, made her doubt herself. “You’re a brilliant writer, Alice.”
“No really, the book sucks,” she says matter-of-factly. “I get it now. What you were trying to say all this time.”
“I don’t always know what I’m talking about.”
“You were right, Hailey. The mystery series sells and readers love it. I just re-signed with the publisher for three more books.”
That’s wonderful for her, but... “Are you happy?”
Alice looks slightly conflicted by the question. She takes a deep breath before saying, “I’m making money doing what I love. I receive countless emails from fans telling me how my books have impacted their lives, which gives me another layer of fulfillment not many people get in their lifetime. My days consist of imagining new towns and characters and letting them live lives I’ll never live and say things I’ll never get to say... Can anyone really ask for more than that?”
“That does sound nice.” I used to think I made an impact on people’s lives too and deep down, I know there’s truth in that belief, but right now, I’m only seeing the faults in my actions.
Alice must sense my inner turmoil as she sends me a grateful look. “Sometimes, we don’t always know what’s the best thing for us.” Alice steps forward and gives me a hug. There’s a finality to it, closure I can feel even before she says the words “But you were right.” She takes a step back. “I’m okay on my own now.”
Tears rim my eyes as I force a smile and nod, not trusting my voice to speak. This was the moment we were trying to get to, but now that it’s here, I know I’ll miss Alice.
She closes the door and I wipe a tear away as I scan the quiet, deserted street.
No taxis in sight, I start to walk.
Light reflects on the surface of the pool as I sit on the edge with my feet in the water. I toy with the tattered hem of the maid of honor dress as I stare at my reflection in the water.
My heart feels heavy and despite the reassurance I received from Darren and Alice an hour ago, years of questioning spiral through my mind.
I’m recalling every client, every piece of advice and every life path I’ve encouraged people to take over the years. The collateral damage of other people’s success has always been a panic attack–inducing thought so I never entertained it.
Now I wonder about the people I’ve coached.
I see their success on the outside, but what has it cost them personally?
I pick up my phone and scroll through my contact list, which consists of all my former clients. Not because I wanted to keep in touch. Six months and I was out. Unless I needed them to help another client. Networking, that’s how success in business works.
But it’s just a glorified way of using people, calling in favors from those who will feel compelled to assist.
I scroll through the photos from the past few weeks. Sonia and Liam together at my VIP party, at the engagement party... Sonia and me recording her audition tape, dancing at Brooks’s Bar, at the day spa in robes and slippers...
Photos of Warren and me...
One of Warren in my sunglasses, lying on the dollar-shaped floatie, has me laugh-sobbing. That day had been the biggest disaster on all counts and yet it was the best chaotic mess I’ve ever enjoyed. Being with him, being around him, discovering other layers of him was a wild journey I never thought I’d take.
I put the phone down and close my eyes, but I can’t erase the image of his face—the cocky grin, the way he stared at me with desire and lust when we were together in his bed, the way his expression held real emotion earlier in the suite before everything went wrong...
The one that hits hardest is the look of hurt on his face tonight as he broke my heart because I’d broken his.
My feelings for him are undeniable. The last few weeks my entire life has been turned on its head and for the briefest of moments, it felt like I could truly have it all. I thought I could take the leap of faith, but I never should have let my guard down. Falling for Warren was the worst thing I could have done, being vulnerable with him has put my entire existence at risk...
At minimum it’s shattered my heart.
Tonight, I’m spiraling, and the deafening silence around me is a reminder of just how alone I’ve created my world to be.