Chapter 8
LAINA
I’d spent the entire day holed up in my room, hiding from the world. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d lounged in bed for hours on end, except for back when I had Lucy, and Bennett insisted on bringing her to bed for her middle-of-the-night feedings.
I was wrapped around a pillow, half watching an old movie when my phone buzzed again. I’d pretty much ignored everyone who’d called, except for an hour-long chat with Felicity where I somehow managed to convince her not to pack a bag and come stay with me for the week.
Curiosity got the better of me after a few minutes, and I turned my cell over to glance at the screen. The notification wasn’t one I could ignore.
Lucy
Hey. Dad told me he talked to you.
A second message followed.
Lucy
I’m really sorry about last night.
And then a third.
Lucy
I get it if you don’t want to talk to me yet. I just wanted you to know.
The texts had none of her usual emoji. And no teenage attitude.
My thumbs hovered over the screen. My first instinct was to tell her it was okay and soothe her pain. But I still felt the sting of her betrayal too strongly.
That didn’t mean I’d just leave my daughter on read, though.
Me
I appreciate it.
Even a careful apology from my daughter felt like too much to handle right now, but my phone buzzed again almost immediately.
Lucy
Thank you.
I set the phone back down and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. As proud as I was for her reaching out, the walls of the bungalow felt like they were closing in on me again. Sitting up, I pushed the covers back and got out of bed without a clear plan beyond needing to move.
Heading into the bathroom, I washed my face with cold water. Then I stared at my reflection longer than I meant to, caught by the pain in my eyes.
Wallowing in the room wasn’t helping, so I pulled on a comfy lounge set and grabbed a baseball cap in the same shade of blue and tugged my hair through the back opening in a ponytail.
Sliding a pair of sunglasses on, I shoved my phone into my purse and stepped outside.
Nobody was around, but I still kept my head down as I walked to my car.
I didn’t have a destination in mind, just somewhere that wasn’t four walls and a closed door. Maybe with aisles I could walk without having to explain myself to anyone.
As I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, paranoia set in. I caught myself checking the rearview mirror several times, as if someone might recognize me and start pointing.
Malibu Country Mart was only a short five-minute drive from the hotel. The outdoor boutique shopping center was the kind of place people came hoping to spot someone famous. I figured that worked in my favor. Anyone with a phone out would be watching for A-listers, not me.
Even knowing that, after I parked and got out, I tugged my baseball cap low and slid my sunglasses farther up my nose. For a while, I just walked the pathways between the stores and window shopped, just being in the crowd easing some of my loneliness.
A woman arranging flowers outside one of the boutiques glanced up as I passed. “Good afternoon.”
“Thanks. You too.”
The everyday exchange soothed my frayed nerves.
I wandered a little longer, looking in windows without really seeing them, before heading into Vintage Grocers.
The high-end market was a far cry from the superstores I used to shop at before Bennett made it big, but they had a great wine section.
Drowning my sorrows sounded like an excellent plan to me, but the minibar in my room only included non-alcoholic drinks.
Snagging a basket and starting down the nearest aisle, an employee restocking shelves looked over their shoulder as I passed by. “Need help finding anything?”
“I’m good. Thank you.”
Since the minibar took up most of the fridge space, I stuck to shelf-stable items. I grabbed dates stuffed with nut butter and drizzled with dark chocolate, a bag of artisan tortilla chips, a package of chocolate chip and toffee cookies from the bakery, a yummy-looking blueberry loaf, a few bananas and apples, and a jar of almond butter before heading toward the alcohol section.
Two women stood in front of the cabernet, one of them holding her phone out so the other could see the screen. “This is the better version. They slowed it down to the point where you can actually see when she realizes what he just said.”
Her friend winced before shaking her head with a laugh. “I still can’t get over the fact that she didn’t know.”
“Right?” her friend agreed. “The show is wildly popular and has had four seasons already. Talk about being clueless.”
So much for getting away from humiliation. I couldn’t even go to the grocery store without someone snickering over one of those damn memes.
I quickly grabbed a couple of bottles of chardonnay without paying much attention to the labels. Luckily, as I made a beeline for the checkout area, I passed a display of corkscrews and tossed one into my basket.
As the cashier scanned my items, she asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yes, all good,” I lied, forcing myself to smile.
After paying, I carried the bag outside without looking up. As I walked to my car, all of the tension that had seeped away was back with a vengeance. Every person who glanced in my direction made my shoulders tighten even more.
I got in, locked the doors, and sat there with the groceries on the passenger seat, waiting for my hands to stop shaking.
Grateful the hotel was so close, I drove straight back.
Luckily, nobody was around when I parked and walked the pathway to my bungalow.
In the safety of my room, I set the grocery bag on the narrow counter beneath the window looking out at the lush green hills.
Pulling out one of the bottles of chardonnay, it took two tries to open it, the cork spinning in place on the first attempt.
When it finally came free, I didn’t bother with a glass.
I sat on the edge of the bed and drank straight from the bottle.
After several long swallows—roughly a glass’s worth—I set it on the nightstand and stared at my phone.
It didn’t seem fair that I couldn’t even leave my house without hearing people make fun of me, while Bennett had probably gone to work as though nothing had changed. He was the one who’d messed up, but I was paying the price.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked up my cell and called him. He answered on the first ring.
“Laina?”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, the half-empty bottle within reach. “I went to the store. There were two women in the wine section watching that slowed-down clip of my face. They thought it was funny that I didn’t know. That I was somehow still ‘clueless’ after four seasons.”
“Fucking hell.”
“I couldn’t even buy groceries without being reminded of what you did.” My voice had an edge I didn’t try to soften. “You turned me into something people laugh at while running errands.”
“I know. I’m—”
“I don’t need another apology right now.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I just needed you to hear that it followed me. Even here. While I was trying to do something as simple as buy some freaking snacks.”
The line was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Where are you, baby? It’s killing me that you’re dealing with this alone.”
I looked around the bungalow and shook my head. “Somewhere you don’t deserve to be. Not yet.”
Then I hung up before he could say anything else. I stared at the phone after the call ended, hating that he was right about the alone part.
Before I could change my mind, I opened my message thread with Felicity.
Me
If you’re up for it, I think I could use the company after all.
The reply came faster than I expected.
Felicity
Give me an hour.
I set the phone down, looked at the open bottle of wine, and let out a slow breath. Maybe spending some time with my best friend would help me get out of my own head.