Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Wyatt
Ihear Cleo’s words, but they don’t sink in. A laugh slips out of me. “My what? That’s insane.”
I glance between Cleo and Ronnie, expecting them to crack a smile, maybe admit it’s some kind of joke. But they stay silent, their expressions deadly serious.
“We thought the same at first,” Ronnie says. “But... she had a marriage certificate. Said you got married in Vegas in December last year.”
I shake my head, frowning. “You can’t actually believe her. It’s probably just some unhinged fan. I think I’d remember getting married.”
“She had all the paperwork, Wyatt,” Ronnie adds, quiet but steady. “Real documents. Cleo did a background check–”
“I pulled the records from the Nevada clerk’s office,” Cleo confirms. “It’s filed. Legally binding.”
This has to be some kind of scam. A forgery. Identity theft. Something. Anything but real. I feel Ivy shift beside me, and my chest tightens, but I can’t bring myself to look at her yet.
“There’s more,” Cleo continues. “She’s giving you a choice. Pay her off, or the story goes live. Tomorrow morning. She’s already tipped off the press.”
I finally glance at Ivy. Her face is pale, her eyes searching mine like she’s trying to piece together who I really am. And it kills me.
“Were you in Vegas last December?” Ronnie asks.
I pause for a minute, trying to think while my head spins. “Yes, for my brother’s wedding.”
“Okay,” Cleo says. “Did you hook up with anyone?”
Ivy drops my hand and walks into the kitchen. I shoot Cleo a look and follow Ivy.
“Ivy,” I whisper. “I don’t know who this woman is. I swear to you. I never married anyone. This is bullshit. All of it.”
She doesn’t say anything, she just looks at me.
“Wyatt,” Cleo pushes. “Did you hook up with anyone?”
Anger bubbles inside me. “Jesus, Cleo. Just give me a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute, Wyatt,” she says, exasperated.
Ronnie clears her throat. “She’s claiming Ivy’s the other woman. She’s painting this like an affair. If we don’t get ahead of it, your entire image, and Ivy’s, is going to be shredded by the media.”
Ivy gasps, and my heart aches.
“I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable, but we need to know what we’re dealing with,” Ronnie continues.
I exhale loudly and drag my hand through my hair. “Yes,” I say quietly. “I hooked up with someone I met in the hotel.”
My eyes find Ivy’s, and my heart splinters as she closes her eyes and drops her head.
“Name?” Cleo barks.
My jaw ticks. “I don’t remember.”
“Let me refresh your memory,” she says, pulling a file from her bag and slapping it down on the kitchen counter.
Ivy jumps as the sound echoes around the open space. My chest aches, and more than anything, I want to pull her into my arms and tell her everything’s going to be okay, but I don’t know if it is.
“Cara Livingstone. Twenty-three. An exotic dancer from the Flamingo Club, just off the strip,” Cleo says, almost clinically.
She slides a photo across the counter toward me. I hesitate, not wanting to look, but I force myself. And the moment my eyes land on it, the memory crashes back. She’d taken a selfie of us in the bar, her arm wrapped around me.
Despite what it might look like, casual hookups haven’t been my thing for a while. Not in the past year, at least. I’ve been craving something more, something real. I’d started pulling back from the empty nights, trying to find that connection.
But Cade and Sophie’s wedding… it hit differently. Watching them, seeing what they have, it just reminded me how far I was from having anything close. And that night, I slipped. One reckless decision.
The irony is brutal. Now that I do have something real, someone who actually matters, that mistake might be the very thing that tears it all apart.
“I’m going to take a bath,” Ivy says quietly as she walks past me, her eyes briefly flicking to the photo on the counter.
I reach out, my fingers brushing against hers, hoping and praying she’ll stop. But she doesn’t. She keeps walking, and it feels like my heart goes with her.
Once she’s out of earshot, I turn to Cleo, my jaw tight.
“I met her at the bar. We had a couple of drinks, talked a bit. She came back to my room, and we slept together twice. She stayed the night, left the next morning. That was it. No wedding. We never even left the damn hotel.”
“She knew who you were?” Cleo asks, her eyes narrowing.
I sigh. “Yeah. That’s how the conversation started. She said her brother was a Cardinals fan and asked for an autograph.”
“None of this adds up,” Cleo snaps. “Were you drunk?”
“I was buzzed, not wasted. I remember everything. Nothing about that night is hazy.” I pace across the kitchen, my hands clenched. “How the hell does someone get a marriage certificate without actually getting married? That has to be illegal. And why now? Why wait over six months to come forward?”
“She probably saw the press coverage of you and Ivy a couple weeks back,” Ronnie says quietly. “Figured she saw her chance.”
“And the marriage certificate?” I press.
Ronnie shakes her head. “I don’t know, Wyatt. Maybe she knew someone. Maybe she bribed someone. But something’s off.”
“You believe me, then?” I ask, meeting her eyes.
“Yes,” Ronnie says without hesitation. “If you say it didn’t happen, I believe you.”
I turn to Cleo. “And you?”
She sighs, exasperated. “What I believe doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the story is coming out, and I can’t stop it. The best I can do is try to control the damage.”
I drop my head. Ivy didn’t sign up for this kind of exposure. She’s been dragged into it because of me. She doesn’t deserve any of this.
“I don’t care about me,” I say, pacing again, “but Ivy’s not used to this kind of media storm.
She’s private. She’s not even really been seen publicly with me other than the charity dinner, and now the whole internet’s going to have an opinion on her character when they know nothing about her. You need to keep her out of this.”
Ronnie hesitates. “That might not be possible, Wyatt. If this woman makes it about Ivy, then Ivy’s in it, whether you like it or not.”
“Fuck!” I shout, banging my fist on the countertop. “She already looks like I broke her.” My voice cracks. “I can’t let the press finish the job.”
“Look. I can’t stop the story,” Cleo says, her voice gentler this time. “But you can get ahead of it. Make a statement. Get your truth out before the gossip goes into overdrive.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Cleo nods. “I’ll draft a statement tonight and send it over later. You need to go talk to Ivy.”
She leans in and kisses my cheek, followed by Ronnie, and then they’re gone, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen with my thoughts spiralling.
I don’t know what the hell I’m going to say to her. I’m not married, and I think she knows that too. But even the suggestion of something like this could be enough to unravel everything we’ve built.
What we have is incredible, everything I’d spent years hoping for, and I’ll be damned if I let one careless night destroy it.
Ivy
When I get into Wyatt’s bathroom, I close the door behind me with a click and lean against it, my arms wrapping around myself.
I believe him. I believe that he didn’t marry anyone, that the night in that photo was just a night from his past, one that ended in the morning like plenty before that.
He’s never been shy about the kind of life he used to live.
He’s never lied to me about that. I never expected to be the only woman he’s touched.
I also didn’t expect to be dragged into his past like this either.
I push off the door and turn on the taps, sitting on the edge of the tub as I watch the water rise, my mind spinning.
I can handle his past, even if it stings a little.
What I can’t handle is the media turning me into some sort of scandal.
The other woman. That’s how this will look if this story hits tomorrow.
It won’t matter what the truth is. People will see a headline and believe it.
They’ll think I’m the homewrecker. The woman who stole someone else’s husband.
I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this storm.
Slipping off Wyatt’s jersey, I climb in the tub and slide down until the warmth covers my shoulders, trying to calm the sick twist in my stomach. I guess I never realized what dating someone in the public eye meant, and I definitely didn’t realize I’d be handing so much of myself over to the world.
I love him, though, enough to weather all of it. But right now, I’m not sure if that’s going to be enough to protect me from what’s coming.
As steam rises from the water, the scent of lavender wraps around me, trying and failing to calm the chaos in my chest. My fingers trail across the edge of the tub, my mind racing. I replay everything in my head; the photo, the headlines to come, and the pain etched on Wyatt’s face.
The bathroom door opens, and I hear his footsteps before I see him. I don’t look up straight away, still trying to piece everything together.
“Ivy,” Wyatt whispers.
He walks closer and crouches at the side of the tub. I meet his gaze. He looks tired.
“I didn’t know if you wanted to be alone, but I needed to see if you’re okay.”
I sigh. “I’m not mad,” I say. “I know you didn’t marry anyone, Wyatt, and I know you had a life before me.”
He exhales and I can hear the relief, but I’m not done.
“I’m just… trying to figure out what happens now. If this woman goes to the press and starts saying I’m the other woman, saying you cheated, it won’t matter what the truth is. Everyone’s going to jump to conclusions.”
He takes my hand. “We’ll tell them the truth, baby. Cleo’s drafting a statement to put out tonight, before the story breaks.”
I want to believe that’s enough. I really do.
I squeeze his hand. “I just don’t know how to be okay with everyone knowing my business. Judging me for something I didn’t do. This could affect my career, Wyatt.”
He doesn’t say anything, and a lump rises in my throat. I’m scared. Scared of being hurt, scared of what everyone will think, but mostly I’m scared of losing the best thing I’ve ever had to a lie.
“Shit,” he mutters, lowering his head until it rests against our entwined hands. A long moment passes before he lifts it again, his eyes clouded with pain.
“Can I get in? I just… I want to hold you.”
I nod quietly, watching as he stands and slips out of his sweats and T-shirt. I sit up, giving him space to settle in behind me, and when he does, I lean back against his chest. His arms come around me, holding me against him.
“I thought you weren’t a bath guy,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
He kisses my shoulder, his lips warm and soft against my skin. “I’m anything if it means being close to you,” he says, his voice low. He pauses, then adds, “I love you so much, Ivy. I didn’t know I could feel like this. Just... please don’t leave me.”
There’s something so raw in his voice that it tightens my chest.
I turn to face him, kneeling in the water and cradling his face in my hands.
“I love you too, Wyatt. I’m not going anywhere.” I exhale, steadying myself. “Whatever this turns into, we’ll get through it. Together.”
I might be shaken and unsure of what’s coming, but walking away from him? That’s not even on the table.