Chapter 28
EZRA
Iwake up to the sound of Scarlett breathing beside me. The bedroom is still dark, but there’s a sliver of light coming through the curtains. The sun is currently rising, which means I get to spend another day with the woman I’m falling in love with.
A small smile plays on my lips as I study Scarlett looking so damn peaceful. I don’t move because I don’t want to wake her and ruin the solitude I’m swimming in.
Last night plays through my mind. When I close my eyes, I can almost hear the fire crackling and her needy gasps close to my ear. Making love under the stars as the waves crashed behind us was magical and so damn special.
My jaw clenches knowing someone violated our privacy.
I hate that I didn’t notice sooner or that I wasn’t as cautious as I should’ve been.
But when it’s just the two of us, I tend to lose all inhibitions.
I thought we were safe and secluded because Millie’s place is on a private beach.
I blame myself because I stupidly let my guard down.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand and see a fuckton of notifications, which makes me pause. My brows furrow as I open the messages from Millie.
Millie
Ezra. Call me.
Mille
Oh, it’s not an emergency. I realize how that text came across. I’m fine. The house is fine. Willow is fine, and so is that mean old rooster in the back yard.
This makes me laugh.
Millie
Honey, there are pictures of you two on the beach.
Millie
Just text me back as soon as you’ve read this. I just realized how early it was. No need to call before your coffee.
I scroll through the rest and see a few messages from my friend group, to whom I haven’t talked in a few months. The three of us own businesses in town and are around the same age, but lately, life has happened.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I know this means whatever’s out there is bad enough that people who don’t normally reach out about my life are concerned. I search my name online and wait for the page to load. Each second feels like an hour.
When the results finally appear on the screen, my blood runs cold.
Scarlett Collins: PR Stunt Queen with Famous Artist Ezra Reed?
Ezra Reed in a Fake Relationship with Scarlett Collins
Will Ezra Reed Survive the Wrath of Romance Author Scarlett Collins?
The headlines make me want to throw my phone across the room, but it’s the photos that nearly suffocate me.
We’re walking along the beach, holding hands. And there are photos of us kissing, then of us removing our clothes. That moment should’ve just been ours. In my mind, it is.
In the same article, they’ve posted photos of Scarlett and Jason at red-carpet events.
Scarlett looks gorgeous in a designer dress, and the man who tried to break her is holding her tight.
The candid shots of them looking so damn happy together make me fucking sick.
Somehow, the articles weave together their love story, painting it as the perfect relationship, and showing how badly it ends.
They compare me to him, and plant seeds implying that Scarlett is using me to become richer.
Then I see a picture of my mother and Scarlett together, and I think I stop breathing. I click on the link, and it takes me directly to my mother’s Instagram account. It’s a photo of them at that book signing from years ago.
The caption says Wish my son would marry this girl.
The internet loses their shit over the love story they build in their minds.
For a moment, I stare at the photo, unsure how this is possible.
Scarlett was much younger, and this was before her heart was broken.
This is hard for me to believe, but then again, none of it surprises me.
My mother constantly tried to set me up like this, and it never worked.
Or did it? Against my better judgment, I scroll to the comments section.
My thumb moves on its own even though I know I shouldn’t look.
She’s using him to fix her image after Jason.
Gold digger. He has way more money, connections, and fame than she ever will.
Poor guy doesn’t even realize he’s just a PR stunt to sell more books. The photo of his mom and her is proof.
Ezra Reed deserves better than some clout-chasing author.
My hands tighten around my phone, and my nostrils flare. Many of these people are also my followers, those who’ve supported my work for years and bought my pieces. They’ve shown up to gallery openings, and they’re tearing apart the woman I’m falling in love with on my mother’s account.
Then I see Jason’s fans in the mix, and it only gets worse.
She did the same thing to Jason, and she’ll do it to you too.
Ezra run! She’s going to use you and throw you away.
Hope he realizes she’s going to tell the world all their secrets when this is over.
She will exaggerate all of your bad qualities.
Victim story coming in one year.
I close out of the comments before I throw my phone across the room. My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it in my throat. I slide out of the bed, making sure not to wake Scarlett. On the way to the bathroom, I take a deep breath that doesn’t quite fill my lungs.
Somehow, I feel like this is my fault.
I’m the one who thought we could control the narrative if we put our relationship out there.
My phone buzzes again, and I want to ignore it, but I know I can’t.
Millie
Are you awake yet?
Ezra
Barely.
Millie
Did you look at everything?
Ezra
Yes, and I’m pissed they brought my mom into it.
Millie
Me too. It’s so low. Scarlett needs to know. I’ve contacted your mother’s publicist to take care of this social media storm.
Ezra
Thank you. I appreciate it.
Millie
Love you, honey. Remember, this will pass.
I go through my morning routine, and when I’m finished brushing my teeth, I slowly open the bathroom door. Scarlett is awake, sitting up in bed. Her hair is messy, and she looks sleepy.
“Morning,” she says with a grin that makes my heart pound a little harder.
“Good mornin’, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?” I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed next to her.
“Great, actually.” She studies me. “Everything okay?”
I notice how she can read me so easily. “We can chat after breakfast.”
“No.” She reaches for me and grabs my hand. “My anxiety won’t be able to handle waiting because I have an overactive imagination.”
“I understand. It’s not the end of the world, just inconvenient.” I unlock my phone and hand it to her like it’s a grenade.
She takes it, and her face changes as she reads the article I just finished looking at. Confusion morphs into shock, then hurt, then something that looks like anger.
“I don’t remember taking this photo, Ezra. I’m not trying to use you or your mother’s kindness toward me. That’s absolutely disgusting. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracks, and the sound of it breaks something inside me.
“I know. I personally don’t remember photos I’ve taken with strangers from a decade ago. But this is what these people do. They’ll dig into our pasts and spin things to fit their own narrative. It may never stop, Scarlett. This is my life.”
She pulls me closer into a hug, and I hold her tight.
“I’m at a point in my career where every relationship I have will be like this. The photographers and speculation won’t stop. I thought if I stopped writing it would. But it didn’t.”
“You can never stop writing,” I tell her, pulling away and meeting her eyes. “No matter what happens between us, okay?”
“You’re the only person who’s ever told me that.”
“I mean it,” I confirm, studying how the sunlight streams into the room, making everything appear to have a golden glow.
“Some people write, Scarlett, but you give your full self, knowing people might hate the parts of you that you put into your characters. I understand how hard it is to navigate life without privacy when people assume so much. Being together might get harder before it’s easy, so please promise me you’ll never, ever stop writing as long as you’re able. ”
Emotions flood through her.
“I promise,” she whispers. “Thank you for believing in me.”
“You have something special. I will do whatever I can to protect that.”
“I don’t know what I did in my life to deserve you,” she says.
Leaning forward, I kiss her forehead. “I feel the same.”
She returns to reading the comments, and her jaw tightens.
“Gold digger. Clout chaser. She’ll dump him when the book tour is over.” She looks up at me, shaking her head. “They hate me.”
“They don’t know you.” The rage in my chest builds because how dare they, how fucking dare they judge her when they’ve never seen how hard she works or how kind she is or how she makes me light up like a tree on Christmas morning.
She laughs, but it comes out bitter. “The internet is making me look like a PR mastermind when I’m on the verge of losing my entire career. That’s bittersweet, isn’t it?” The hurt in her voice makes me want to find every person who commented and make them understand how wrong they are.
“Babe, you know what it sounds like to me?” I reach for her hand because I need to touch her, need her to know I’m here.
“No.” She lets out a breath and sets my phone down on the bed like it burned her.
“Kinda sounds like the greatest comeback of your entire career.”
A few tears fall down her cheeks, and I wipe them away.
“Play into it,” I tell her. “My mother used to say, if you can’t beat them, join them. Time and the truth will always prove them wrong. Always. Just be yourself and don’t lose who you are in what strangers have to say. You know you. I know you. Everything else is noise.”
She nods, and something shifts in her expression. The hurt is still there, but my words uncovered something defiant.
“Your mom is right. Fuck them.”
“I don’t think that’s what she said.” I chuckle.