Chapter Twenty
TWENTY
HAILEY’S DAILY RULE FOR SUCCESS:
In the face of adversity, we can choose to run or we can choose to fight—the right choice depends on the height of our heels.
On my laptop screen is the schedule for the life coaching conference tomorrow. Miraculously, they haven’t canceled my appearance—just a strongly worded email from organizers saying they’ll be monitoring the situation closely and advising that I provide my own security detail if I feel unsafe.
I can’t go now. And not because I’m afraid of a few angry, judgmental former fans. No one wants to hear what I have to say and I’ll only draw a crowd because of the controversy. All my pre-confirmed meetings have canceled so there’s really no point in attending.
I sigh and start to write an email withdrawing—
The gate buzzer sounds and I frown. I’m not expecting anyone. For a brief moment, my hopes rise—Warren?
I quickly fix my hair as I hit the intercom button. “Hello?”
Only static on the other end. It’s still broken and I haven’t had time to get it fixed. I hesitate for a second—what if it’s some dangerous follower? Then I’ll at least have someone to hear my side of the story.
Instead, it’s Sonia standing on the front step when I open the door. She looks refreshed and well in a pair of flowing white pants and matching tank top and her expression is far more relaxed than our last encounter.
Still, I scan her for any sign of weapons.
All clear.
“Hi... Come on in.” I step back to let her enter.
Sonia shakes her head. “I can’t stay...late-night movie shoot.”
“Right. I read the piece in Variety —again, congrats.” She’s really doing it, and the indie thriller is getting a lot of buzz already. She may only be playing a secondary character but given her status as a Banks, the movie press is highly focused on her acting debut. It will do wonders for future roles.
“Thanks,” she says. “I just wanted to stop by and say that while what you did was shitty, you weren’t exactly entirely wrong.”
“I appreciate your forgiveness, but—”
Sonia holds up a hand. “I didn’t say I forgive you.” But a hint of a smile plays on her lips. “But you did help Liam and I realize that we need to figure out what we want in our own lives before we move forward together.”
It’s what he said too. I wish I could take solace in the fact that they do genuinely seem happier now not having gone ahead with the wedding, but unfortunately, this whole thing has illuminated so many flaws in my own character, the error of my judgment, that it’s hard to feel any kind of victory in how this has played out.
Sonia glances at her watch. “Anyway, I have to go but I also wanted to say thank you, for your unorthodox way of putting me on the right path...for me.”
I nod, unsure what to say as I watch Sonia head back to her car. I know the likelihood of us being friends is next to none, and deep disappointment fills my chest. I enjoyed getting to know her. Strong female friendships have always eluded me and for a while, it had felt nice. But my situation hasn’t changed and if the disaster of confessing my secret to Warren is any indication, I can’t be truly vulnerable with a friend, so it’s best I continue on my solitary path. But I am happy that I was able to get Sonia one step closer to her dream. I’ll be cheering her on as her number one fan from afar.
Back in my office a moment later, I sit at my computer. I stare at the email I’m about to send canceling my appearance. It’s the right thing to do. What value can I offer attendees now? No one trusts me anymore. No one believes in my value as a coach. Everything I had planned to say was just empty industry lingo—a sales pitch to draw new clients...
My gaze lands on my client pride shelf.
Alice’s bestsellers, Frost God’s Top Bakery awards, photos of Darren and me at the Brooks’s Bar opening...
All of those people put their faith in me. Had I made their lives perfect? No. But I had helped them get to a place they wanted to go. And I’d done it from a place of sincerity and genuine interest in helping others succeed. I had to build that trust and reputation. It might be harder now, but I’ve always preached the value of hard work and commitment...
With the same focus and principles guiding my own actions this time, maybe I can do it again.
I delete the email.
Standing, I pick up the framed posters that are still propped against the office wall—“Hailey Harris—Top 30 Under Thirty,” “Life Coach to the Stars”—and start to hang them back up.
I may have hit a roadblock, but these images aren’t a lie. They are who I am—for better or worse—and I need to strive harder to live up to this successful version of myself staring back at me.
I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. Since dropping Liam off at the airport, memories of the last few weeks have been flooding my mind. With his blessing and the knowledge that he and Hailey aren’t planning to reconnect their relationship, I’m even more conflicted as to what to do.
It’s been over a week since I pushed her away. I’m not even sure where her heart is right now. Putting myself out there and having her reject me would be even harder to come back from, but I’m not sure I have a choice.
I miss her. Everything about her. Even the bickering.
My pillow still holds the lingering scent of her, but it will be gone soon and there will be nothing left...
Reaching for my cell phone on the bedside table, I open her social media and see the hashtag #CancelHaileyHarris is still trending. The life coaching event is tomorrow.
Will she still attend?
Realization dawns and I quickly get out of bed. As I pull on my jeans and hoodie, I dial Marcus’s cell.
Two rings then, “Hey, Coach, what’s up?”
“I need you to meet me somewhere.”
“Text me the location ping.”
Twenty minutes later, Marcus and I stand at the base of the highway billboard with my ladder and cleaning supplies.
He eyes the height and shakes his head. “Thought you hated this chick.”
“She’s grown on me.” Understatement.
“Enough to climb up there and risk breaking your neck?” Marcus scans the dark, empty street nervously, looking for signs of authority.
Enough for that and so much more.
“Hold the ladder and then toss me the supplies.”
“Can’t believe you dragged my ass into this. What happened to ‘head down, nose clean, guilty by association’?” he asks, throwing my own words back at me with a hint of sarcasm.
I see the irony now—calling Hailey out for meddling in people’s lives when I’d constantly interfered in Marcus’s, even though it was from a place of genuine caring.
“Just hold the ladder, smartass.” I climb the rungs, then catch the supplies as Marcus chucks them up to me. Then I climb the scaffolding to the top of the billboard. It’s a hell of a lot higher than it looks and the wind is fierce at this height. I glance toward the ground and feel slightly nauseated.
Don’t look down.
Instead, I stare at Hailey’s face, larger than life, and my heart races as I start to clean away the graffiti.
Whether or not she’s telling the truth about her gift, her impact on the lives of so many people means she deserves more respect than the public is giving her right now. And whether or not this gift of hers saved my life...or helped me see a way through to giving Marcus a second chance, she ultimately did both and how can I not love her for that?
Love?
The thought literally throws me off balance and I slip over the wet edge of the platform. “Whoa.” My body starts to freefall and I grip the metal of the scaffolding in the nick of time, then I’m left dangling a hundred feet off the ground.
“Coach! You good?” Marcus calls from below.
No I’m not good. I’m falling in love and it nearly cost me my life.
Flashing police lights and a siren cut through the night air and I close my eyes as the squad car puts its headlights on me.
Fantastic.
“Hey! What are you doing up there?” the officer calls up to me.
“We were just cleaning the graffiti from the billboard,” I hear Marcus explain.
I pull myself up and over the platform and then work my way carefully down the scaffolding and the ladder to the officer. “What the kid said,” I say holding up the cleaning supplies.
The stern-looking thirtysomething officer whose nametag reads: “Perkins” glances up at the partially clean billboard and nods. “Get back to work then.”
I must look surprised because his face breaks into a grin as he leans on the hood of his squad car. “Hailey Harris helped my brother start his own IT consultancy firm a year ago when he was struggling to find work with a new wife and baby on the way.”
Ah.
“Didn’t charge him a dime.”
Another one of her private success stories. I’m willing to bet there’s many more.
“She doesn’t deserve the bad press she’s getting. Anyone who studies body language for a living could see it was the groom’s fault on that viral video.”
I frown, intrigued. “Yeah? How?”
“The way he leaned in and there’s a hesitancy in her that indicates she was surprised and if you watch real closely, she never actually returns the kiss.”
Maybe I need to take a closer look at that video.
“You know her?” Officer Perkins asks.
“Coach was hot for her back in the day, but then she destroyed his football career, but now he’s hot for her again,” Marcus says, filling the guy in.
I shoot him a look then sigh. “What the kid said.”
Officer Perkins laughs as he climbs back into the squad car. “I’ll stay and leave the lights on. Make sure no one else busts you.”
“Appreciate that,” I say as I climb back up to the top of the billboard. I stare at her face as I work, the undeniable feelings of love in my chest only amplifying.
Hailey Fucking Harris has struck again.
The event room in the West Beverly Hotel is already packed with people attending the life coaching conference. Exhibitor booths are positioned along the edge of the room—coaches and influencers showcasing their successes and meeting one-on-one with potential clients. In the center of the room, chairs face a main stage where the presentations and panels are set to take place. There’s an electric vibe in the air as upbeat, motivational music plays.
I see a lot of familiar faces. Life coaches I’ve followed throughout the years and social media influencers that I recognize from TikTok. There’s a lot of energy in the room and despite the pitfalls that can accompany this career, I know a lot of lives will be impacted today. I truly believe that.
I check the time on the wall and take a deep breath as I cross the room, then head held high, I make my way to the stage.
Coming today was the right decision, but my heart is pounding and I feel the judgment and hear the whispers. I need to drown out the noise and focus on why I’m here. Four weeks ago, I was coming to impart knowledge, sell myself, and grow my follower and client list. Now I’m desperate and clinging to my last shreds of hope that I can rebuild my own business, my own future, in the face of adversity and public scrutiny.
I’ve never felt this struggle for self-confidence—at least not since I was a dorky teenage high school mascot, desperate to fit in. Desperate for people to see me and accept me and let me be me.
Strange being back in these feelings, but they were the last time I felt true drive and determination to discover who I am. I had to be accepting of myself, then others followed.
I hope it works the same way now.
My palms sweat as I sit on the panel with Spencer Stanley moments later. He’s dressed in a slim-fit charcoal suit and electric-blue dress shirt—power colors. Confidence and charisma ooze from him and I can understand why so many clients choose to work with him. As much as he’s had a part in dismantling my reputation, he does have an energy about him that draws people. He turns toward me. “Gotta say, Harris, I’m surprised you’re here.”
I’ve been in competition with Spencer. In the sports world he was always two steps ahead and that bothered me, but not anymore. “I’m looking forward to hearing how you approach your business,” I say sincerely. “I think I have a lot to learn still.”
He was obviously expecting a more arrogant Hailey. That Hailey is gone. Humbled, respectful, grateful Hailey is the only Hailey I’ve got going for me anymore. The only one I care to be.
His expression takes on an unexpected look of respect as he nods. “You’ve got balls, Harris. You’ll be okay.”
The words cause unexpected tears to spring to my eyes and I swallow hard and blink them away quickly as the panel organizer joins us onstage and starts the session.
I stare out into the crowd of faces as people take their seats. Most seem untrusting and critical, the way I expected, but I take several deep breaths in and out and prepare for anything that comes my way.
Questions from the audience come in—all for Spencer. With each one, I realize that I’d been prepared for an attack—for personal questions and for the crowd to want to drive the wound deeper with the same insults I’ve been receiving online. I hadn’t been prepared for this—being completely irrelevant and ignored.
This is definitely worse.
No one wants to hear anything I have to say. Not my life coaching advice or my excuses.
I sit back in the chair and focus on the knowledge Spencer is imparting on the crowd. He’s smart and successful for a reason. My jealousy and competition with him had always clouded how I saw him and his message. But he’s doing good things for a lot of people and I’m suddenly appreciating the value of what that means.
A reporter from Media Mag stands and addresses me. “This one is for Hailey.”
I sit straighter and force a smile. Here we go.
“Is it true that you learn personal information about your clients to use it to your own advantage?”
I was expecting to be called out, but it’s still hard to calm my racing pulse and think through my response rationally. Honesty. Complete, transparent honesty is the only way to get through this.
“No. Not at all,” I say.
“You didn’t get close to Sonia Banks to steal her fiancé?”
“That was a big misunderstanding.” Simple, honest answers.
“The kiss looked pretty straightforward,” the reporter says.
Murmurs throughout the crowd as judgmental eyes stare at me.
I take a deep breath. “The kiss that went viral was the result of bad decisions and...” I stammer when I see the doors open and Warren enters. I blink, not expecting to see him here. My heart races even more. This public embarrassment was bad enough. Explaining myself to a room full of strangers in an attempt to rebuild my career was one thing. Having the man I’m in love with witness this moment is just torture.
We haven’t seen or spoken to one another in over a week and I’d given up hope that there’s any chance for us.
Yet here he is...
“Hailey, you were saying...” the panel organizer prompts.
Right. I swallow hard and try to remember where my train of thought was going. “I...uh...”
“You were about to make excuses for your actions,” the Media Mag reporter says smugly.
No, I wasn’t. My spine stiffens as I sit straighter, a little of my edge returning as I start to regain my confidence. Being questioned I can handle. Being bullied—fuck that.
But before I can respond, Warren approaches the reporter and takes the microphone. The reporter looks annoyed. “Hey!”
Warren ignores her as he turns toward the stage.
Shit. What is he going to say?
I don’t even care really. Just the sight of him has my heart pounding for completely different reasons. He looks amazing in jeans and a dress shirt, sleeves rolled to reveal those addictive forearms that I’ve been craving since the last time they held me. His hair is trimmed short but still a perfect mess that I long to run my fingers through and he’s clean-shaven today, meaning he’s made an effort...for what though?
Is he here to call me out even further? Reveal my secret to this room full of people? Tell everyone how I’ve cheated my way to success? To do that, he’d need to believe me.
And that’s too much to hope for.
“I have a question...actually it’s more like a comment,” Warren says into the mic.
Eye rolls in the crowd. There’s always that one guy.
I fold my hands in my lap tightly and sit even straighter.
“Hailey Harris saved my life. I mean, she totally destroyed my football career, but she saved my life.”
I send him an exasperated look, but my eyes fill with tears. Does he believe me now? Is that what this is about?
The crowd recognizes him now and a murmur rumbles through.
Warren runs a hand through his hair and continues. “What I want to say is, we all expect celebrities and athletes to be on display. We want full-time access to their lives without allowing any room for a mistake. Well, news flash, we all make mistakes. We are all flawed. Hailey is human...just like the rest of us. She made a mistake, but would you want a coach who was unrelatable? Who hadn’t struggled or learned to overcome obstacles?” He pauses and his gaze locks with mine onstage.
As I listen, I’m touched by his grand gesture. He’s standing in this room full of people defending me?
I appreciate the effort though I’m not sure I deserve it, but more than anything, it fills me with a sense of hope that maybe there might be a chance for us.
“I want advice from someone who has been there, who has bounced back from adversity, someone with experience in rebuilding courage...and I think Hailey being here on stage today proves that she’s brave enough to accept her flaws and mistakes and keep pushing forward.” Warren pauses, his gaze burning into mine.
I can barely breathe.
“For what it’s worth, that’s the coach I’d want.” Warren reluctantly turns his gaze away and hands the microphone back to the reporter. He walks away and stands in the back of the room.
I’m more than a little overwhelmed with emotion as I stare at him and the panel resumes.
“Okay...well, any other questions?” the panel moderator addresses the crowd.
A reporter from Influencer Central stands. “I have one for Hailey.”
I nod and force a smile as I tear my gaze from Warren.
“What one element—more than any other—makes a person or entity successful? The ‘IT factor’ that ensures success above all else.”
Good question. I take a deep breath before my true feelings pour out. “The truth is, my business is based on the concept that there are magical rules to success and that I somehow know what they are and you don’t, but if you want something, truly want it, it will happen, because you’ll do the work to get there, to reach those goals at all costs.”
The crowd is much more engaged now.
“I can help—” I gesture toward Spencer “—Spencer can help, but we can only offer advice and at the end of the day, the decisions, the choices are up to you. Putting in the work consistently is up to you. Believing and having faith even through setbacks and failures is up to you. Knowing in your core that you want this dream to become a reality and drowning out the noise of haters and naysayers is up to you. It takes commitment, dedication, focus but that’s something we all know—it’s no secret,” I say and take a deep breath. “But sometimes what can make the difference is someone truly believing in you to help you reach those goals.” I’d always felt like a fraud because I used my gift to see the future, discounting the value I added by having that full confidence in my clients that they lacked until they got there themselves. My unwavering belief in them was a solid foundation they could cling to when things were challenging.
Just like the belief my mother always had in me...
I force a wave of emotion away as I conclude, “But one thing I will say—a universal truth that took me a while to learn—the ultimate secret to success, the best path forward, is always the one that makes you happy now...not someday.”
The reporter nods and smiles. “Thank you. Great answer.”
They take their seat and the questions continue to fly in. I relax more and more now that the elephant in the room has been addressed and the crowd has predictably moved on.
I’m already yesterday’s news.
Moments later, the panel disperses and I climb down from the stage. Several reporters approach with their business cards and a young woman asks about a client meeting. Better than I expected this day to go and I have Warren to thank. He’s still standing at the back of the room and all I want is to go to him. But I’m at a loss of what to say. He defended me today, but what does it mean?
Can I get my hopes up that maybe he’s here because he still has feelings for me too?
I make my way through the crowd and meet Warren in the back of the room and an awkwardness simmers between us.
“That was quite a speech,” I say. “Not as good as the best man speech you didn’t get a chance to deliver, but not bad.”
“I decided to wing this one.” He pauses and looks at me with sincerity reflecting in those deep blue eyes. “You didn’t deserve the way that reporter was witch-hunting you.”
“Oh, I think I deserved it a little.”
“Maybe a little,” he says with a grin. He pauses, then... “And I wanted to tell you that Marcus impressed the scout. Looks like he’ll be getting that scholarship to UCLA in the fall.”
Oh, thank God. I sigh in genuine relief. “That’s wonderful.”
Warren nods and hesitates. “Thank you for convincing me to give him another shot.”
“You just said it yourself, sometimes people need a second chance,” I say gently.
Warren steps toward me. “Like us?”
Air traps in my lungs and my heart pounds. I don’t trust my voice to speak and all words are eluding me anyway.
“You know why I’ve always called you Hailstorm?” he asks in my silence.
I swallow the emotion welling in the back of my throat. “Because they’re loud, painful, and damaging?”
He stares into my eyes. “Because hail is caused by strong updrafts in a storm. You’ve always embodied that relentless, against the grain strength that sometimes results in a natural disaster.”
I cock my head to the side and raise an eyebrow. “That’s supposed to be flattering?”
“No, it’s supposed to be the truth. And so is this—all I know is that nothing feels better than when I’m with you.”
“We argue all the time...”
“Not all the time,” he says huskily as he moves even closer.
I swallow hard as I stare up at him. I want this with him, but I’ve been completely vulnerable and I’m not sure he can accept me—all of me. “I know what I told you seems hard to believe...”
The floor beneath my feet rumbles as a crumbling noise drowns out the motivational music in the event room. Items fall from exhibit booths and attendees hurry to seek security as an earthquake shakes the room.
It knocks me off balance, but Warren’s quick to catch me before I tumble. One arm around my waist, his other hand touches mine. Palm to palm. Our lifelines connecting. Gazes locked on one another.
The floor beneath us sways and it’s as though the universe is bookending this topsy-turvy ride I’ve been on.
A second later, the tremor stops, but Warren holds tight. He glances toward our hands pressed together and then his questioning gaze searches mine. “Well?”
I wait but see nothing. No visionary powers activated.
No glimpse.
It confirms what I already know. “I can’t see your future anymore because... I’m in love with you.”
Warren takes me into his arms and stares into my eyes. “I know exactly what I want my future to be and who I want in it.”
My heart pounds and my pulse races as we feel the aftershocks of the earthquake. Maybe sometimes tremors open gateways to new possibilities...
“I love you, Hailey,” he says as he brushes my hair away from my face and lowers his mouth toward mine.
I stand on tiptoes to wrap my arms around him and press my body closer. “I love you too.”
His lips brush against mine with a heated passion before he kisses me—the real me, the complete package me, with all my flaws and secrets—with all the love and affection I’ve never thought I’d be lucky enough to find.
A happily ever after even I could never have predicted.