Chapter 44
ELIZABETH
Ilanded at JFK Thursday morning wearing oversized sunglasses and a hoodie pulled low, looking like a celebrity trying to avoid paparazzi. Except I wasn’t a celebrity. I was just a girl whose life had imploded spectacularly on a very public stage.
And somehow I had become the worst kind of celebrity. I was famous for all the wrong reasons. I kept telling myself it was only fifteen minutes. But fifteen minutes of fame felt like a life sentence. I would get through it. But I wouldn’t be unscathed.
I had gone from hoping to make a name for myself in the fashion world to hoping no one remembered me at all.
I spotted Chris waiting for me near baggage claim.
“Nice disguise,” he said, eyeing my outfit. “You look like you just got out of rehab. You just need a green juice and some paparazzi to complete the look.”
“People were staring at me in Milan. Taking pictures.” I pulled the hood tighter. “I just want to be invisible.”
“Then we picked the wrong airport.” He grabbed my suitcase. “Shit, what do you have in here? How much did this cost you to schlep around Europe? This is seriously overweight. That must have been a fortune in baggage fees.”
“We flew private. No baggage fees.”
“Oh shit.” He laughed. “I forgot. You were living the high life.”
“And now it’s over. Can we please just go? I don’t want anyone recognizing me.”
“Yeah, yeah. I forget my sister is famous.”
“Infamous,” I muttered. “Big difference.”
“Come on, let’s get you out of here before your fans see you.”
“Chris, it’s not funny. My life is a mess.”
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to fill me in on the whole story. I’ve had my hands pretty full back here.”
I would love to never talk about it again, but there was no way Chris wasn’t going to get dragged into the disaster. I had a feeling the story was just getting started. He needed to brace for impact.
We started making our way to the exit. Chris dragged my suitcase while I kept my head down as much as I could.
“Oh my God, is that her?”
I didn’t look. The person might be talking about someone else. I wasn’t going to make eye contact.
“Come on,” Chris said.
I let him guide me toward the exit, but I could feel eyes turning, hear whispers spreading. By the time we made it outside, at least three people had their phones out, filming my walk of shame.
“Ignore them,” Chris said. “Just keep moving. They’re probably just filming me.”
I didn’t miss the fact he was walking a lot faster. I had to push my hoodie back a little so I could watch where I was going. He could pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but clearly, he was just as bothered by the whispers and stares.
We got to his SUV. “Get in,” he ordered.
I did and he got my bags in the back. I kept my head down and avoided eye contact with anyone in the garage.
“Damn,” he said when he slid into the driver’s seat. “I was kidding when I said you were famous. Guess I was a little more on the mark than I thought.”
“Now you’re catching on.”
“You must be starving,” he said. “I know I am.”
“I just want to go home.”
“And stew alone? No. You need pancakes.”
I did need pancakes. With thick syrup and an unhealthy amount of butter.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to feel like a zoo animal.”
“Nobody will bother you there. There’s no tourists, and New Yorkers don’t give a shit who anyone is.”
The diner was a hole in the wall in Queens, the kind of place that still had vinyl booths and laminated menus. Chris was right. Nobody looked twice at us. I was just another exhausted woman in oversized sunglasses, and Chris was just another guy getting breakfast.
I ordered pancakes. Then more pancakes. Then a side of bacon and hash browns because why not? My life was already a disaster. Might as well add carbs to the list.
“So,” Chris said carefully, watching me drown my third pancake in syrup. “I have a general idea what’s happening. But maybe you should explain. In your own words.”
I pulled out my phone, found Clara’s interview, and slid it across the table. Hit play.
Chris watched, his expression shifting from curious to confused to something I couldn’t quite read.
“Wait,” he said when it finished. “Why is Claire talking about you on the news?”
“Claire?” I peered over to make sure he had watched the right video.
He pointed at the screen. “Claire. That’s Claire.”
“That’s not Claire. That’s Clara Moreau.” I took my phone back. “International supermodel and thundercunt extraordinaire. You don’t know her.”
“Know her?” Chris’s face went pale. “I slept with her.”
I choked on my orange juice. “What?”
“Yeah. Like two days ago. She was at a party I went to with Carl. He invited me at the last minute. She was there and we hit it off.” He looked dazed. “I knew I was punching above my weight but a supermodel? That’s definitely going in my diary.”
Ice flooded my veins. “Chris, are you sure this is the same woman?”
“Oh yeah. I’ll never forget her.”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “Did you tell her anything about me?”
“Of course not.” He paused. “Well, I mean, I mentioned you had this great job lined up at Blackwell. You know, because you’re engaged to Adrian and everything.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? You were the one who leaked it to her?”
“I didn’t leak anything! We were just talking. Post-sex talking, you know how it is.” He stopped talking and looked at me, clearly just realizing I was furious. “Elizabeth, I swear, I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“That’s the problem. You didn’t think.” My voice was rising, other diners starting to glance over. “You didn’t stop to think for one second why a supermodel would be interested in you?”
“Hey, I’m not exactly a two. I’m not a ten, but shit, can we save some of my ego?”
“Not after what you did.”
He deflated. “Okay, yeah, I did wonder. She was gorgeous and all the guys were looking at her. I didn’t realize she was famous. She didn’t look like that.” He pointed at my phone. “She barely had makeup on and was dressed in chill clothes.”
I continued to glare at him.
“Fine, I did think it was a little odd. Thought maybe she’d try to steal my kidneys or something. But sometimes in life you have to take risks for beautiful women.”
“Do you not understand what you’ve done?” I was shaking now, fury replacing the numbness. “How serious this is? You ruined my entire life.”
“Come on, that’s dramatic. There will be other jobs.”
“I don’t care about the job!” The words burst out of me, loud enough that the whole diner could hear.
I didn’t care. “I love Adrian, you moron. I know it’s fast and I know it’s crazy, but it’s the truth.
And now he’ll think I leaked it, or that I was careless, or he’ll just want to be as far away from me as possible.
” My voice cracked. “And now everything is ruined.”
Chris stared at me. “Wait. You’re in love with Adrian? My friend Adrian?”
“Yes, your friend Adrian. The one whose bed I’ve been sharing. The one who’s never going to forgive me for this.”
“You’re sleeping with my friend?” Chris looked genuinely outraged. “I can’t believe you. I introduce you two and this is what happens?”
“You fucked the actual devil, okay?” I pointed at my phone, at Clara’s frozen image. “You don’t ever get to judge me for anything. Ever.”
We sat in hostile silence for a moment, other diners pretending not to watch our drama unfold.
“I’m sorry,” Chris said finally. “I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t know she knew you. How could I know that?”
“Sorry doesn’t fix this.” But the anger was draining away, leaving exhaustion in its wake. “The whole world thinks I’m a gold-digger. My designs got credited to Adrian. And the man I love thinks I’m just some actress who did her job and left.”
“Then tell him. Tell him it’s real, that you love him.”
“I can’t. You don’t understand. This whole thing was supposed to be fake. And now everything’s so complicated and messy.” I put my head in my hands. “I don’t even know if he feels the same way.”
“Have you said anything?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“It’s just different.”
“Just tell him how you feel.”
I sighed. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”
“Then at least you’ll know. And you can move on. But what if he does? What if he’s been waiting for you to say it first?”
“That’s ridiculous. He’s Adrian Blackwell. He could have anyone. And oh, good job, you and Adrian have now shared a woman. She dated Adrian. That’s what all this is about.”
Chris grinned, clearly proud as a peacock but the moment he saw my expression, it faded.
“Look, I screwed up. Massively. But don’t let my mistake ruin something good.”
“Too late.”
“I doubt it.”
“Help me figure out how to fix this,” I said. “Please. I don’t know what to do.”
“First, more pancakes. You stress eat. It’s what you do.” He flagged down the waitress. “Then we call Adrian and tell him what happened. That it was me, not you. That I’m the idiot who pillow-talked your secrets to a supermodel.”
“He’s going to hate you.”
“Probably. But he’ll forgive me eventually. And more importantly, he’ll know you didn’t betray him.” Chris smiled weakly. “I ruined your life. Least I can do is help un-ruin it.”
“I don’t think un-ruin is a word.”
“It better be.”
“What if it’s too late?”
“It’s not too late until you give up.”