Chapter 23 Ember
EMBER
I rolled over in Nate's bed and reached for him, my hand finding warm skin and solid muscle.
He was already awake, sitting on the edge of the mattress, buttoning his shirt.
My fingers traced the flesh on the side of his hip where his waistband sagged, belt not fully buckled yet.
"Good morning," I murmured, scooting closer to him.
He turned and smiled at me, hair still damp from his shower.
He smelled incredible, so much so that I didn't want him to leave. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"
"Better than yesterday." I stretched and yawned. "The new medication is helping." I'd been off for a few days with nausea so bad, I couldn’t hold down food again, but today was a better day.
"Good." He leaned down and kissed me properly, his hand cupping my cheek. "I have a meeting at eight, so I need to leave in ten minutes."
"Already?" I pulled him back for another kiss.
This one wasn't as deep, and I sighed when he pulled away slightly. "Don't fall in love with your new assistant as easily as you did me."
He laughed against my mouth. "I doubt anyone could compete with you."
The temporary assistant had started two days ago when I'd finally taken Nate's mother's advice and stepped back from work for a while.
The morning sickness had become too severe to manage, and the stress of being at the hospital where everyone whispered about us had made everything worse.
Nate had insisted I take medical leave, and I'd agreed reluctantly.
I knew people would talk about us, but it was going to happen sooner or later.
My reservations about losing my career advancement still gnawed at me, but my initial reluctance to step back had been erased when Nate urged me to move in with him temporarily.
I got to see him more now, and it was all private time. No need to fake being professional when you slept in the same bed.
"Are you sure you'll be alright today?" He stood and grabbed his tie from the dresser. "I can cancel my afternoon meetings if you need me home."
"I'm fine. I need to do some Christmas shopping, anyway." I sat up, pulling the sheet around myself. "My family expects gifts, even if I can't make it home for the holidays."
He frowned slightly and his head cocked to the side. "I'm sorry you're missing Thanksgiving with them."
"It's better this way. I'm not ready to explain everything yet." I forced a smile. "Besides, your mother invited us to dinner. That should be interesting."
"That's one word for it." He finished with his tie and leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Call me if you need anything. I'll have my phone on between meetings."
"I will. Now go save lives." I smacked his butt as he started buckling his belt and tucking his shirt in while simultaneously jamming his feet into his shoes.
I heard the front door close a few minutes later, but I lay in bed for another twenty minutes, letting the nausea settle before attempting to get up.
The new medication helped, but mornings were still rough.
By the time I showered and dressed, it was nearly nine thirty.
I chose loose clothing on purpose to hide the tiny little bulge I knew was the baby and not just extra weight.
I wasn't showing yet, but my regular clothes were getting tight around the middle.
I pulled my hair into a ponytail and grabbed my coat and purse.
Nate would've let me borrow his car, but it was just as easy to Uber anywhere I wanted to go, and it meant not having to find parking.
So when I got to the shops downtown, I tipped the man well and decided which store to choose first.
I walked into the first shop, a home goods store that sold candles and decorative items my mother would appreciate.
The woman behind the counter looked up when I entered, and I saw recognition flash across her face.
She didn't say anything, but she watched me as I browsed the shelves.
I chose three candles and a decorative silver tray, bringing them to the counter.
The woman rang them up without speaking to me at all, but I could tell by the thin press of her lips that she knew who I was and the gossip had made its way here.
"Thank you," I mumbled as she handed me my change and the bag, and her head bobbled on her neck in an accusatory manner.
The next shop was better.
No one paid attention to me as I browsed scarves and picked one in deep burgundy for my mother.
But as I walked back onto the street, I noticed people staring.
Two women standing outside a coffee shop stopped their conversation to watch me pass.
A man loading boxes into his truck paused and pulled out his phone, angling it toward me like he was taking a picture.
It wasn't like I was famous outside of the bit of gossip going around, but that last part got me a bit flustered.
I ducked into a bookstore, grateful it was quiet and there weren't many people inside.
The clerk was a young man with headphones in, and he barely glanced at me as I made my way to the fiction section where I picked two novels my father would enjoy and a cookbook for my mother, then headed to the register.
As I paid, a woman entered the store and stopped when she saw me.
She was in her sixties, wearing an expensive coat and carrying a designer handbag.
Her auburn hair was styled perfectly, though reeking of hair coloring, and her brown eyes were cold.
"You have some nerve showing your face in public," she said to me as soon as she was close enough.
The clerk pulled out his headphones and looked between us, confused. I felt embarrassment burn in my cheeks.
"Excuse me?" I managed.
"You heard me. Parading around town like you have any right to be here after what you've done." She stepped closer, and I caught the scent of her perfume.
It was overpowering and made me want to gag. "You're a hussy—a woman of the night. You have no business using your body to sway men's opinions."
"I don't know what you're talking about." I looked down into my purse, searching for my wallet as much as trying to distract myself so I didn’t feel the sting of shame she was laying on me.
"Don't play innocent with me. I saw the news." She gestured toward the door. "Everyone knows who you really are now."
I grabbed my bag from the counter and slapped a few twenties on the counter, more than enough to pay for the books.
Then I turned and rushed out, feeling completely mortified.
The clerk called after me, asking if I was alright, but I didn't stop.
I burst onto the sidewalk and walked away from the bookstore as fast as I could.
I knew better than to do my shopping right here in Beacon Hill, but I had hoped by now, most of this would've gone away, especially with my taking a break from work.
More people were staring now.
Some openly, others pretending not to watch while clearly focused on me.
A group of teenagers giggled and pointed and I felt the same shame today that I felt years ago in San Diego.
And it only got worse as I passed an electronics store and glanced through the window.
Multiple television screens filled the display, all tuned to the same local news channel.
My face was on every screen.
I stopped walking, gawking at the screens like I was in a horror show.
The images weren't recent.
They showed me younger, my hair a different length and color, auburn instead of the darker shade I'd dyed it after moving to Boston.
I was wearing a California State University sweatshirt in one photo, laughing at something off-camera.
My stomach dropped when I realized these images were from my old social media account, before Brad's horrifying cyber bullying.
I moved closer to the window, pressing my hand against the glass.
The banner at the bottom of the screen read, Lightkeeper's Hearthkeeper Exposed: Ember Harrison, Formerly Amber Hensley."
No. No, no, no.
My mind whirled and I glanced around, hoping no one was watching this, but who was I kidding?
The screen switched to footage of me walking through the hospital parking lot, then back to the old photos.
A reporter's voice narrated, though I couldn't hear the words through the glass. But I didn't need to hear them.
I could see the images they were showing—the college campus, the apartment building where I'd lived in San Diego, a photo of Brad with his arm around me, both of us smiling.
After two years of hiding, after changing my name and moving across the country, they'd connected Amber Hensley to Ember Harrison.
Which meant they knew about the video too and the scandal that had destroyed my life in California.
I stumbled backward from the window, breathing too fast.
People on the sidewalk had stopped to watch me with expressions ranging from curiosity to disgust.
Someone held up a phone, recording.
A camera flash went off inches from my face.
Someone grabbed my arm, and I yanked it away.
The crowd pressed closer, bodies surrounding me, voices getting louder.
"Let me through!" I pushed, using my shoulders to create space, and started to weave my way past people who thought it was okay to hedge me in.
The voices blended together into noise, accusations and questions and laughter all mixing until I couldn't distinguish individual words.
Or maybe my mind was just racing too quickly, because God knows my heart was beating too fast. I felt lightheaded.
I finally broke through the edge of the crowd and started walking faster, fumbling to get my phone out and order an Uber.
My legs felt weak, my breath coming in gasps, but I didn't stop until I reached a corner far away from those laughing voices.
I couldn't stop seeing those images on the television screens of my younger self, smiling and unaware of what was coming.
And now everyone knew Ember Harrison was Amber Hensley.
The scandal I'd run from had finally caught up to me, and this time, there was nowhere left to hide.