Chapter 30
THIRTY
Sadie
I couldn’t do this anymore; I couldn’t continue lying to Lockhart and keep Dear Foodie a secret. Every part of my body felt ill from it. I was having a hard time even looking him in the face.
This wasn’t what I’d wanted.
And I couldn’t stand another second of it.
That was why I reached out to my boss as soon as I got home from Lockhart’s house and told him we needed a meeting. Immediately. This wasn’t a conversation I could have over the phone. I needed to do it face-to-face so my boss understood how heavily this was weighing on me.
And what he would do with that information, what he would decide, I couldn’t predict.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been at the office. I kept my distance for a multitude of reasons—the biggest was that I didn’t want any of the employees to ever figure out who I was .
When I had first been hired, my boss and I had made sure my true identity stayed buried from Seen . The direct deposit went into my business account. They had my tax ID, not my Social Security number. No one in finance or HR could trace Dear Foodie to Sadie Spencer.
And because I went into the office about once a year, I wasn’t really worried about walking through its doors today or taking the elevator to the top floor and giving the receptionist my name. I didn’t wear credentials around my neck, like all the other employees, nor did I mention to her that I was one.
She made a phone call—I assumed it was to my boss—and as she hung up, she asked me to follow her. She led me past a large section of cubicles, the magazine’s accolades hanging on the walls that framed the area—maybe some of those due to my influence. Toward the back of the room, she halted outside the door of his corner office. She knocked twice, and when my boss called out, she opened the door and told me to go in.
I thanked her and made sure the door was shut tightly behind me, slowly turning to him and smiling. “Good morning.”
“It’s a bit early for you, isn’t it?”
I laughed.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked that you texted before nine and then requested an in-person meeting. I don’t think in all the years we’ve worked together, you’ve ever done that.”
I took a seat in front of his desk. “I haven’t. You’re right.”
His curly hair had grown since the last time I had come here, and he now wore it back in a tight ponytail, the thin gray pieces lightening the sea of black strands.
“I’m assuming you’re here because you want to talk about my request of having you travel to more of The Weston Group locations and reviewing them so we can do another Weston feature?”
I gradually nodded and crossed my legs, holding my knee like it was a handrail. “Yes, but not in the way you think.”
He rested his forearms on his desk. “Okay … I’m intrigued.”
I took a deep breath, thinking of the words I’d rehearsed during my drive over here, wishing I’d remembered them since they were suddenly gone from my mind. “After my article on Toro, I don’t want to review any more of The Weston Group restaurants. I’m just … not comfortable doing it.” I took in several more breaths, hoping they would loosen the tightening in my chest. “I promise to finish out my obligation, but I’m declining your offer regarding the new feature you want done on them.”
“And why is that?” He blinked several times, turning his face as though he was posing, one side being better than the other. “I’m assuming there must be a reason?”
I didn’t like the feeling that was in my body. The way I was so full of anxiety that I could even feel it in my fingertips.
I had to get this out—whether it sounded pretty or not, that didn’t matter.
“I’m in a relationship with Hart Weston.”
His eyebrows rose and didn’t come back down, even after he said, “I see.”
“Before you ask, Hart doesn’t know that I’m Dear Foodie. I wouldn’t break my NDA with Seen . I wanted to tell him—no less than a million times—but I haven’t.”
His exhale was loud and drawn out. “Tell me this: were you dating Hart Weston when you reviewed Charred?”
It killed me to nod and say, “Yes.”
His brows dropped and pushed together. “And were you dating him when you reviewed Musik?”
“Yes, but”—I held up my hand before he could say anything—“you need to know that I was a hundred percent honest in both of those reviews.”
His head fell back, and he groaned, “Jesus Christ …”
“Please believe that Dear Foodie wrote those reviews, not Sadie. Please.” I slid forward in my chair, hovering over the edge. “You have nothing to worry about regarding either—please tell me you believe me.” I waited and got no response. “This job means everything to me. It started my career. I wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything … or anybody.”
His quietness was making me more nervous.
So much so that I felt the need to add, “I know you didn’t ask this, but I have to tell you that when I first started dating him, I had no idea he was a Weston. We met in the bar of a restaurant. I didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t offer his last name or even the shortened version of his first name. He went by Lockhart, and … things escalated from there. So, I didn’t intentionally bond with a restauranteur—or anything that even looks like that.”
He leaned back in his chair, his hands going to the bottom of his chest, where his fingers linked. “What about Toro? How honest are you going to be with that review?” He pushed his tongue into the inside of his top lip, making it jut out and round. “You told me Charred and Musik were authentic?—”
“They were.”
“I’ve been to both numerous times, and my reviews would be very similar to everything you said in yours, so I believe you. But Toro is entirely different.”
“I … know.”
“Sadie, you have an extremely loyal following that expands far beyond Los Angeles, and you have influence that I’m not sure you even realize you possess. You’re one of the top food influencers in the country, which is why Seen is so honored to still have you on our team. But it’s going to be hard to convince me that your boyfriend isn’t going to run through your mind when you eat at Toro and when you write the review of his restaurant.” He sat up straight, his hands returning to his desk. “A review that could, quite possibly, catapult the launch of the Westons’ new seafood venture. Or if your review isn’t positive, it could wreck their plans for future locations they intended to open.”
My hand went to my chest, pushing against my heart.
Every word he’d just said had been eating at me for weeks.
Seen expected honesty.
My followers did too. That was what my entire brand was based on. If they sensed any kind of disingenuousness coming from me, they’d call me out and unfollow me in a second.
“I might not have anything to worry about when it comes to Charred and Musik, but you never assured me that you’d take the same stance with Toro.” His head tilted down, and he looked at me through his lashes. “Can I expect the truth from you? Or is Sadie going to rate Toro instead of Dear Foodie?”
I covered my face with my hands.
I just needed a second.
This was too hard.
This was too much.
I didn’t want to be in this position. I didn’t want to feel this way.
And I didn’t want to keep feeling this way.
“Before you answer that,” he said, “let’s dig in even deeper. I’m assuming another reason you came here today is because you want permission to tell Hart who you are. Am I right?”
I uncovered my face and looked at him. “Yes.”
He let out a long, pent-up breath and pushed up the sleeves of his thin sweater, showing dark leather bracelets on both wrists. “Sadie …”
“I feel like I’m about to throw up,” I said to Bryn as she answered my call, the elevator doors closing behind me, and fortunately, I was the only one in it, taking it down to the lobby of Seen .
“Why? What happened? Or are you sick and you’re really about to puke?”
I wiped what felt like sweat off my forehead. “I’m just leaving Seen .”
It took a moment for her to say, “Wait. As in you actually went into the office?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Girl, that’s hardcore. You haven’t been there in, how long? Forever?”
I wasn’t sure if I was holding in air or panting, but I let out a long exhale. “I had to talk to my boss in person. I couldn’t have this conversation with him over the phone. It wouldn’t have felt right.” I watched the numbers light up on the monitor, letting me know I was getting closer to the lobby.
“About you reviewing more Weston restaurants, right?”
“And the NDA I have with Seen .” My eyes closed for just a second, and I pushed myself off the wall I was leaning against and stood in front of the doorway.
“I know what these secrets are doing to you, babe. It’s going to feel good to finally get them out.”
“You don’t even know the latest.” I cleared my throat since the heaviness seemed to have formed a knot there. “I spent the night at Lockhart’s last night, and everything was perfect. And then I woke up at the ass crack of dawn, and he was on his phone, and I knew he was reading the Musik review that had just posted on Seen ’s website and across my social media. And I wanted to die, right? ”
“Oh God, I’m getting clammy. Keep going.”
“He started talking to me about Dear Foodie and her nails and whether they’d inspired my nail color. And that her photos were in the same place you and I were standing that night. And that we were both drinking the same cocktail, saying me and DF had similar taste.”
“WHAT?” I could hear her breathing. “Does he know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think he knows?”
I held my throat as a wave of heat blasted across me. “I mean, why would he say any of that? But at the same time, am I just looking into it too deeply? Am I hyper-focused and so close to the situation that I can’t see it any differently?” I sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m freaking out.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Was I supposed to? I feel like you called to throw up—and I’m gagging with you. Like a few years ago, when we hit the tequila too hard and one of us was puking in the sink while the other was heaving in the toilet.”
My cheeks puffed out as I moaned, “Bryn …”
“Listen, it’s a good thing you have DF-specific jewelry that you only wear during filming, or he would have— shit ! Did he notice your bracelet in the bar? And he compared that with the pictures that were posted on Seen and on your social media? Is that how he connected you two?”
My stomach dropped.
I hadn’t even thought of that.
Because, normally, I never ran into anyone I knew while I was filming content.
I was always so careful, but I hadn’t anticipated seeing Lockhart that night. And when I did, it hadn’t even dawned on me to take off my jewelry.
“I don’t know. He didn’t say anything about the bracelet or earrings or any of that.” As the elevator opened, I stepped out and walked through the small lobby. “Regardless, I need to come clean. If I don’t, I’m going to explode.”
“What did your boss say about that? You know, with your whole NDA and everything?”
As I approached the lobby door, I reached for the handle and pulled it toward me. Just as I was about to walk through, I stopped myself before I ran into the large body that was walking in at the same time I was walking out.
“I’m sorry—” My voice cut off as I glanced up, my eyes connecting with his.
Lockhart.
Oh my God.
I heard myself gasp.
I felt myself almost drop the phone.
“Sadie, are you okay?” Bryn asked.
I couldn’t answer her.
I had no words left. Whatever had been there … was gone.
This was just like the night I’d met Lockhart at Horned, reaching for the door at the same time, except here we were, on opposite sides.
And I was sure the expression on my face had been much different on that day compared to what was showing now.
“Hello, Sadie.” The shock in his eyes was as thick as it was in mine.
“Oh fuck! Is that Lockhart I just heard? Is he there? Sadie, answer me,” Bryn screeched.
He stood in the doorway, a gift basket in his hand, his presence preventing me from leaving and mine stopping him from coming in.
And the longer we stood there in silence, I saw his eyes change. What was in them and on his lips wasn’t a look of shock. Something else had replaced it.
What I saw now was confidence.
Because he knew exactly who I was.
“Hi, Lockhart.” My anxiety peaked so fast that my chest began to heave, ensuring it would be a long time before I could take a breath again.
“Tell me”—his stare intensified—“what are you doing at Seen ?”