Chapter 28
WHEN I LEAVE CAMP Bennet, the sun is just starting to come up, but the rain is still chucking down, obscuring its weak light.
The fact that Nate insisted I take his raincoat just rubs salt in the wound—this small gesture of decency even after our blowup fight.
The path back to the house is muddy and slippery.
If the weather doesn’t let up soon, it’s going to cause a major problem for tomorrow’s backyard wedding.
Good, I think. Tear it all down. Wash it all away. There’s no such thing as fairy tales.
I check my reflection in the porch window before entering the house.
My hair is damp and tangled, makeup smudged under my eyes.
Nate’s jacket hangs to my knees. It looks a lot like a walk of shame.
Someone is sure to ask me what happened last night.
To put two and two together when they remember I left the bar early with Nate.
And I’m surprised to find I don’t really care.
Stepping from the porch into the kitchen, I brace myself for a lecture from my mom about inappropriate behavior under her roof, but the room is empty.
The kids are shrieking in the family room, but unlike the happy shouts that I’ve grown used to, these are met with a yell from my dad to quiet down.
I make my way toward my “room,” but stop when I hear sharp voices coming from the direction of Cooper’s. A few moments later, Cara huffs out of Cooper’s room. I hear the blue bathroom door slam.
Now I’m the one wondering: What the hell happened?
I find Linney on the couch scrolling her phone, William beside her, eyes glued to an episode of Spider-Man.
The rain hasn’t let up. It lashes the side of the house.
“What’s going on?”
Linney looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Have you not checked your phone?”
I shake my head, and pull it out of my pocket, realizing it must’ve died sometime last night while I was at Camp Bennet.
“Someone sold photos of Cara and Cooper to one of the gossip mags. The story just broke. Have you really not seen anything? I thought you were hermiting out of self-defense.”
My stomach rolls, and I can suddenly taste the vodka tonics from last night.
Oh my god.
That camera flash at the bar.
I wasn’t being paranoid.
The realization lands like a thud in my gut. I was right.
I rush back to my room and plug my phone into its charging cord.
There are twenty-seven missed calls and even more missed texts.
I see an email from the team at FitGirl, with the ominous first words: Due to recent events…
but I’m surprised to find I don’t really care.
If they want to cancel this partnership because my brother is marrying someone tied to my reality TV past, then maybe they’re not the kind of company I want to work with anyway.
I close out of the email without reading the rest and swipe over to social media to find the comment section on my posts has already turned into a dumpster fire.
Headlines range from the more harmless sounding: “An Ex-Rated Love Story” to “Nikki B-Gone: Stop Trying to Stay Relevant” to the even more blunt: “LovedBy Fans Shudder at Shameless Ploy for Attention from Former Star”—the latter speculating that Cara and I schemed all of this up together with the goal of getting Cara on as the next lead.
A number of my fans have rushed to my defense, commenting that they’re sure I had nothing to do with this, that I must be so uncomfortable with the whole situation.
And I’m thankful to them for recognizing me for what I am—an honest human in extremely weird circumstances.
But it doesn’t really lessen the sting of the trolls and commentators out there casting both me and Cara as fame-hungry cynics.
She’s getting her own share of hate headlines, too—and she’s the one who features in most of the unflattering pics from the bar last night. One in particular, of Cara mid-sneeze with her drink tilted dangerously, is captioned: “SLOPPY SECONDS.”
Interesting, by the way, that no one is saying my brother is fame-hungry. Double standards much?
And making everything even more excruciatingly awkward and confusing is that right there, amid all these embarrassing headlines, is a photo of me and Nate at the bar—me messily wiping my face with the back of my hand, him hovering with his arm near me, in a position that even in the blurry pic looks intimate.
I honestly don’t know what to make of the photo. After our fight last night, I don’t know what to make of Nate at all. I feel sick to my stomach over this whole thing.
And desperate to talk to the Core Four.
Thankfully, as soon as I have that thought, the phone starts vibrating, and I see it’s a video call from the group chat.
“Oh my god, Nikki, how are you doing? I’m so sorry this is happening why is the world so crazy this is terrible!” Sybil says in a manic babble before I’ve even said “hey.”
“I truly can’t believe it,” Emma says. “It’s just a few photos, but they really went to town.”
“Babe,” Willow breathes, as if she’s just puffed a cigarette, though I know she doesn’t smoke anymore. Then in a sage tone, she proclaims: “What a. Fucking. Disaster.”
“What are you going to do?” Sybil jumps back in. “Are you going to call the press and tell your side of the story?”
“Oh, no way, she can’t do that, it’ll just stir the pot even more. It always does,” Emma warns. “Sorry, not to be cynical. But you’ve got to think about this like a lawyer. The less you say, the better. No comment, let it blow over.”
“Let it blow over,” I repeat, my voice wobbly.
“Yeah, that’s true, she has a point,” Sybil says, biting her nails. “Oh shit, I just swallowed nail polish again.”
“Can I ask you something, Nikki?” Willow interrupts contemplatively.
“Of course,” I say. “What is it?”
“Do you really want to go back on LovedBy?”
“Oh god,” I say, my gut sinking even further. “I hadn’t even thought about that yet. When people find out about A Shore Thing, it’s just going to play into the whole narrative, isn’t it? That I was somehow a part of all this for the attention. That it was all set up.”
“Honey, no, that’s not what I was saying…” Willow says.
“Though that’s a valid concern too,” Emma says.
“Let me finish, please!” Willow announces.
“I’m asking because going back on the show puts you back out in front of the world again.
It’s vulnerable. It’s hard. You loved it—or you thought you did—but in the end, it chewed you up.
Even with all the great fans you earned and the amazing experiences you had.
Is it possible that you’re just going back because you think it’s what you should do, and not what you actually want? ”
I let out what can only be described as a pathetic, reverberating groan. “Why is everyone asking me what I want?”
“Because that’s what matters, Nik,” Sybil says quietly. Then she clears her throat. “I’ve actually been wondering too. I mean… is it possible you don’t really want to come back to LA in the first place?”
“Of course I do!” I practically scream, though even as I say it, confusion swells in me.
Do I? I think about how it feels to be held out there in the center of the lake, just floating.
How it feels to be back at the old house—even camping out in a stupid storage room and having to share my family with a stranger I don’t totally trust. Even still, it’s been magical.
But I keep telling myself that’s just the specialness of this place—I always get that wistful little voice in my head wishing I didn’t have to leave.
That’s normal. That’s not a sign of anything. I have a life to get back to.
“Well, it’s just that you haven’t responded to the apartment link I sent you,” Sybil says.
“I’ve been busy…” I trail off. Busy falling for Nate. Busy rediscovering the slower life.
“And I know you, Nikki,” Sybil says. “I know that apartment is the exact kind of place you’d love and would totally jump on… if you were planning to come back to LA.”
“Look, we only want whatever makes you happy,” Willow says.
“Yeah, exactly. I mean I’ll kill you if you don’t come back, but I love you and want you to choose whatever makes you happy,” Sybil says, and I let out a small laugh.
Then I sigh. “I guess I just need to figure out what that is.”
“You will,” Emma says confidently.
“And if you need me to fly back to the States and kick someone’s ass, just say the word,” Willow adds.
I smile. “Thanks, guys. You know I love you all.”
They blow me a bunch of kisses, and I hang up regretfully, wishing we were all four together. I always feel stronger when I’m with them.
I stare at the phone in my hand, realizing I got another missed call while I was talking to them.
It’s from Sloane. Shit.
Surely she’s seen all this bad press too. I wonder if they’re going to rescind the offer. With an uncertain sigh, I call her back.
Sloane picks up on the first ring. “Nikki. Is it true? All this stuff about Cara? Did she go after your brother?”
The Nikki of nine days ago would’ve taken the bait. She would have been the first to vilify Cara, but not anymore.
I take a preparatory breath. Then: “Oh, it’s nothing like that!” I say, keeping my voice light. Years’ worth of media training kicks in. This time, I don’t have a script from someone else, but I know what I need to say to defuse this bomb. “The whole family loves her.”
“Even you?” Sloane asks skeptically.
“Mm-hmm,” I say. “She and my brother are perfect for each other. They’re so happy together.” I’m surprised to find myself willing my words to still be true. Cara looked really upset when she passed me on the stairs earlier…
“I’m so glad everyone’s getting along.” Sloane doesn’t bother to hide her own surprise. She pivots, that sly tone sneaking into her voice again. “Anything cooking in your love life? I heard Cara’s brother has been staying with you all week…”
Oh god. My stomach sinks even further. She’s probably asking because she saw the picture of the two of us at the bar…