26. Melee, Melee
26
MELEE, MELEE
SOPHIE
The morning started with a false sense of calm on this pretty Halloween day.
I ran a damp cloth across the bar’s mahogany top, the grain cool under my fingertips, while Jessa unloaded the dishwasher nearby. Each clink of glassware sounded too loud in the hush. Keaton was holed up in his office, negotiating with the mayor. I should have been relieved—our morning had felt almost peaceful.
“So,” Jessa breezed, wiping her hands on her apron, “anything new between you two?” Her eyes danced with curiosity.
Not at all sure what she meant by that, I shrugged and leaned against the bar, sipping my coffee. I scrolled through the latest updates on our shared email with Melanie and the production team.
Then the screen blurred as a message from Melanie popped up—sent to me by mistake.
It indicated that they had apparently been quietly and sneakily in town for two days already. Which meant only one thing: she’d been gathering footage. Stirring the pot. Getting the drama she coveted.
I opened one of her teaser clips posted today on the network’s social media, and my stomach knotted. She had done street interviews in Holly Creek? Some locals voiced their frustrations about how Keaton’s popularity meant too many tourists clogged up parking. Others complained about traffic. One woman fussed about the wait times at Flora’s Diner. Petty things—but when stitched together with moody B-roll and dramatic music? It all added up to a big problem.
“Are you watching the circus?” Keaton’s voice made me jump. “That call was from the mayor who gave me an earful.”
I flipped the phone around so he could see. His jaw clenched, knuckles white on the edge of the bar. “So this is how she wants to play it,” he murmured.
“She’s framing this whole thing like we’re villains bringing the city to the country.”
He glanced sharply at Jessa nearby in earshot, then led me by the elbow to a corner booth. He narrowed his eyes at my screen. The whole time he watched again, his jaw ticked.
“I get it,” I said gently. “She’s doing what she always does. Creating drama for the sake of views. But the majority of the town supports what’s happening around here, you know that. Your restaurant plans are going to be incredible. Flora’s diner is getting a facelift, not a funeral. Rex and Richard are bringing in business and the town council hasn’t said one word about it.”
Keaton rubbed the back of his neck as if unconvinced. “I just don’t want to lose what made this small town special.” Every syllable felt like a plea.
“You won’t,” I said, stepping closer. “You, Vivian, Flora and so many others are what makes it special. One TV show isn’t going to break that.”
He studied me, lips parting as if to say more, but only squeezed my hand. His gaze lingered on my face, weighted with an emotion I couldn’t name. “Your optimism kills me,” he finally whispered.
Before I could answer, the door swung open. Melanie’s smile blasted across the room, her camera crew streaming in like vultures. “Ready to roll?” she chirped.
Keaton’s muttered “Let’s get it over with” made my stomach flip. We sat on chairs in front of our favorite Victorian fireplace backdrop. Melanie perched on her stool, tapping her clipboard.
“Today, we’re diving into what comes next for our favorite couple,” she began. “What the future looks like for Sophie and Keaton Kingston.”
Keaton held my hand on his thigh. I managed a smile.
She led us through the basics—how things had been in town, any surprises, our favorite newlywed memory. Easy stuff. Until she pivoted.
“Well, I have good news,” she said breezily, flipping a page in her notes. “The network has decided to hire Sophie for a new show, a business makeover program. Weekly format. L.A. based. Big prime time slot.”
My breath hitched. Keaton’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s… amazing.”
“It’s an exciting opportunity,” Melanie chimed and leaned forward, eyes glinting. “For Sophie, not both of you.”
The words fell like a guillotine. I tasted bitterness, blood-hot on my tongue. He smoothed his collar, gaze distant. “Not me? Of course.”
She smiled. “Nothing personal. The show is about brands. Reinvention. Not hops and brewing. It’ll film over a few month in L.A. How do you feel about that?”
He leaned back slowly. “Would it upset me?” He was looking at her, not me. But his voice had turned cool. Detached. “No. Of course not. I’m very supportive of anything Sophie wants to pursue.”
But I heard it. That hesitation. That slight emphasis on Sophie instead of wife.
Melanie smirked, clearly pleased. She went looking for cracks, and he’d given her a glimpse.
I suddenly couldn’t breathe. The word divorce dropped into my thoughts like a bomb.
We were supposed to break up. Supposed to stage a heartfelt goodbye for the cameras and walk away. It had always been part of the deal.
Only I'd watched my mom navigate divorces after my dad left and again with my stepfather. She tried to hide it both times, but I saw the pain, the bitterness that took hold of her and wouldn’t let go. I still wasn’t sure she got over them even as she sat comfortably in an Italian Villa with husband number three. I promised myself I’d never end up like that.
Here I was. With one husband. Fake, maybe, but the emotions werestill there, raw beneath the surface. Falling. Failing. Risking the same heartbreak as she did.
By the time the Halloween party started, I had all but emotionally retreated. The night windy evening blew the orange lanterns swaying in the Hops’ windows. Inside, Jessa had draped cobwebs and strung lights so the bar looked almost magical. We handed candy to tiny ghosts until dusk, then flipped the switch for the adults after dark, featuring a live band, most sexy costume contest, and a DJ.
I wore a little black number—lace, horns, a “sexy devil” costume that felt on brand. Keaton donned a flannel and a cowboy hat, an easy grin never quite reaching his eyes.
We hustled and we worked the bar, the crowd swelling so much he grew concerned about fire safety. But every time I looked at him, my heart clenched. My love for him simmered under the surface, so new and fragile, it’d hurt like hell if something broke us up.
Then I caught sight of Starla drifting toward the bar, arching her back like a cat, casting come-hither glances at Keaton. My blood boiled. And there, camera lens trained like a sniper, was Melanie, soaking up every second.
I stormed over. “What’s she doing here?” I hissed, voice low.
Melanie tilted her head, innocent and predatory. “Adding spice. Your breakup arc needs heat, I think.”
Starla leaned over the counter, flaunting her cleavage like she hadn’t humiliated him on national TV.
Melanie ate it up a few feet away, camera focused like a hawk.
I balked, but I didn’t have time to deal with her when, of all people, Griffin West arrived. He didn’t see me, and stalked to the bar, taking a barstool at the opposite end of Starla and catching Jessa’s eye to order a drink.
I flitted around the tables as long as I could, keeping a close watch on him at the bar, while dealing with the partiers. So consumed I was trying to keep busy that I had lost track of Keaton, and didn’t notice Jessa came out from behind the bar to check on me.
“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine. Great. Do you know where Keaton went?” I asked.
“I think I saw Melanie and her crew head toward the kitchen with him and Starla a while ago. But listen, there’s this really handsome man at the bar who is asking for you.” She ran a hand over her hair as if to check every strand was in place. “Do you mind if I ask who he is?”
“Uh. Hang on.” I couldn’t escape the face off any longer and approached Griffin. When I did, his face lit up with the same boyish slanted grin but years older, dressed in an expensive custom suit and Italian leather shoes.
“Hey, Sophie,” he said, calm and unreadable. He finished his drink, probably whatever expensive brand of whiskey Jessa could serve him, and set the glass down. “I thought we could stop wasting time. So I came to find you here to get things settled once and for all.”
“There’s nothing to settle. I can’t talk about it now, Grif, but soon I’ll be able to give you the full details,” I started and forced a smile.
Jessa had returned, lingering within earshot. I’d spent so long trying to deny my connection with the West family. At any moment it could all come crashing down upon me.
“Can I get you another whiskey, handsome?” Jessa batted her eyelashes. Wait. Was she flirting with him?
“Not right now, sweetheart. Sophie and I have some unfinished business to take care of.” He winked with a smoldering smile that should be trademarked, and Jessa giggled, a sound I’d never heard from her before. Interesting.
Out of the corner of my eye, I found Keaton and the group shuffled back out to the bar.
I scurried around to Griffin’s side, begging him, leaning in close so I could keep my voice low. “Please leave. I promise I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll talk. But I can’t tonight.”
“Oh no you don’t. I came all this way to Honey Falls?—”
“Holly Creek,” I corrected him, nervously eyeing Keaton. I could tell by his scrunched forehead and sharp eyes he had concerns about me talking with a man in close proximity like we were.
“Whatever. I won’t leave until this gets resolved. Now, why don’t you come with me to my car and we can talk this out.”
Griffin hooked my elbow and tugged me to the door.
Keaton saw it instantly and almost jumped over the bar to reach us before we got too far.
Cameras turned. Lights shifted. Melanie shouted to her crew, “Follow that drama.”
“What the fuck are you doing with your hand on my wife?” Keaton growled, storming upon us.
Griffin stopped short. “This is family business?—”
“I’m her family, asshole.” Keaton shoved his hand away from me.
“You don’t know who I am?” Grif’s nose turned up.
“I don’t care if you’re the goddamn King of England. You don’t put a finger on her, got that?”
“Your husband is charming,” Griffin smirked at me.
“Hey, asshole. You don’t talk to her either,” Keaton closed the gap, getting up into his face and wouldn’t be deterred.
Griffin shoved him away and it escalated fast. Words turned to fists. Melanie’s crew circled like vultures.
“Stop—please! You’re both being ridiculous,” I cried, getting in the middle of them. But too late, Keaton’s punch landed into Griffin’s eye.
The CEO of West Games fell to the floor, knocked out cold.
But the damage was already done.
Cameras rolled. Hearts broke. Cracks blew wide open between me and my fake husband.
Jessa ran to Griffin’s side and fanned him with a towel.
And Melanie cackled off to the side, apparently the only one pleased by the melee.