Chapter 22
Unpredictable conditions continue due to newfound strength
The metal chair is icy even with layers of tweed and tights to keep my backside warm.
Maybe it’s something in the air around me.
Storm clouds blacken the edges of the blue sky stretching out to sea.
The low rumble in the distance scares most tourists enough that they huddle around tables inside the cafe instead.
I’m the only person braving the balcony.
I’ve lived in St Helens long enough to judge how long it takes until a storm hits, and a quiet spot without too many people listening is best. This is a conversation I need to have in private.
Light footsteps clip across the wooden deck. The chair in front of me scrapes along the hardwood.
“Elsie.” Mallory Something-or-Other sits down. “Thanks for meeting me.” She rummages in her oversized bag, and a slim silver tape recorder appears.
Not happening.
I raise my palm. “This is off the record until we settle terms.”
Her pencil-thin eyebrows arch, but Mallory leaves the tape recorder untouched beside the salt and pepper shakers. She eases back in her chair and waits.
“I’m not here to talk about Luke,” I say.
“Elsie, that man is head over heels for you. He’s given me authority to print anything you’re comfortable with about the two of you. That includes the move back to Melbourne.”
“He told you about that?”
“His new restaurant has been hinted at for weeks now.”
I scoff a laugh. If I ever questioned my decision to turn down Luke’s offer, this one moment confirms all my doubts. In some circles, he’s important and used to getting his way. I understand. But I refuse to be another piece that conveniently slots into his life.
“I’m not going to Melbourne,” I say. “Whatever happened between Luke and me was wonderful while it lasted, but we were never serious.”
Mallory reaches for the tape recorder. “What about if—”
“No. This isn’t about him.”
“Then why did you ask for this meeting?”
Because I’ve lost my mind. Because I don’t know how else to make it right with the man who stood by me through everything.
I need to prove to Sawyer that I can stand up for myself. Not in a room swarming with unfamiliar faces, but quietly, in my own time, in my own way. God. More than that. I’m doing this for myself.
I take a deep breath. “Is my story worth anything? My divorce… Ethan… Any of it?”
Mallory taps her fingernail on the wooden tabletop.
“Well, you’re not on TV, and you don’t have a media presence.
So, there’s no cover story in it. But an exclusive from the ex-wife of Ethan Whitehall is definitely worth something.
” She sticks her hand into her bag and pulls out a checkbook.
“I’ll confirm with my editor how much extra I can offer you—”
“I don’t want money.”
“Elsie, there are no extra points for being noble.”
“There’s nothing noble about this. This is one of the most selfish things I’ve ever done. I want to tell people the reason I’m here and, more importantly, that I’m staying.”
“I can help you do that.” She clicks the tape recorder on. “But you’re taking the money.”
I glance around the clinic waiting room.
The last week has been a blur of the same dramas on repeat. My cup of tea sits untouched, and I’ve only taken a tiny nibble out of the muffin a patient brought in for me. The treat is fluffy and smells like decadent chocolate heaven, but I’m not hungry. My stomach twists into so many knots.
What if Sawyer never comes home?
It’s been almost two weeks since we last talked. I miss him. An ache gnaws in my chest every night when I walk past his place, and the driveway is still empty.
I drop my eyes to the university course guide open in front of me. The page for teaching qualifications hasn’t changed even after I read it for the sixth time. Another problem I can’t solve.
How can I make this work?
Even if Sawyer never comes back, leaving St Helens isn’t an option. Can I work at the clinic forever? Everyone is so nice, but…
My stomach knots tighter, and I slump forward over the reception desk to breathe through the sharp pain.
I want more.
I want a whole life—a career that excites me, a house to grow old in, and children. I long to spend days on the beach with friends. And I want Sawyer beside me for all of it. Do I deserve all that? Him? Probably not, but I want it all just the same.
I turn the page of the course guide. A magazine smacks on top of it. My head jerks up to find Kristen looming over the reception desk, her blue eyes slitted to a knife edge.
“Well?” she spits.
“Well…what?”
“This.”
She jabs a pink fingernail at the latest issue of Now Weekly. I smirk. Mallory Something-or-Other was right. An on-set romance took the main cover spot, but there I am, in the corner, smiling in an old wedding photo torn down the middle.
Tech mogul’s ex-wife tells all.
Talk about dramatic.
I glance up at Kristen. “What about it?”
“Just who do you think you are?”
I point to the cover. “The tech mogul’s ex-wife. See, it says it right here—”
“Don’t be cute with me.” She snatches the magazine and flips through the pages before slapping it back on the reception desk. “I’m talking about this.” She points at the story taking up page six.
This is the first time I’ve seen the final article. I refused to pose for any over-styled photos staring pensively at the ocean, but apparently the Now Weekly photographer had more than enough shots of me wandering on the beach and at the charity auction to fill the page.
“Um…” I stall for time. Of course, I know what she’s angry about, but instead, I play dumb and start reading the article out loud from the beginning. “One year after her bitter divorce was finalized—”
“Not that. I don’t give a shit about your sob story. Here.” Another jab of Kristen’s finger points to a paragraph near the end. “This.”
“Oh…” I read out the passage.
The seaside town Elsie now calls home was rocked by the revelation of her true identity at a recent star-studded charity auction. According to one insider, a local real estate agent deliberately chose what she hoped would be Elsie’s most humiliating moment to expose the truth about her divorce.
“It felt calculated,” the source says. “She knew exactly what she was doing.”
The move backfired spectacularly. Rather than crumble, Elsie met the catty confrontation head-on, winning over the crowd and proving she’s far tougher than her critics imagined.
“I’m staying,” Elsie told us.
“How dare you?” Kristen hisses.
“Me? That says, ‘an insider.’”
“Oh, fuck off. That’s you, honey. You’re the insider.” She hangs further over the desk. “So, you ran off crying to this trash magazine because you’re too spineless to stand up and face me yourself?”
The new leather squeaks when I push up out of the chair, and a waiting room full of eyes darts away from me to the TV. This fresh gossip will spread like a bushfire on a dry summer afternoon. I don’t care.
“You tried to humiliate me in front of two hundred people,” I say to Kristen. “I never got the chance to tell my side of the story that night because I had to be the bigger person. But I’m not scared to face you. In fact…”
I step out from behind the desk and stand in front of Kristen toe-to-toe. She’s in her clicky four-inch heels, but I put my shoulders back and straighten my spine to my full height. Today, I’m the one looking down on her.
“Wh–what are you doing?” She shrinks.
“You’ve said so many horrible things about me. Behind my back. Even to my face. That ends today.”
“I was being nice to you.” She scoffs, but it’s bluster. “Look at you. What even is…this…” She waves a hand at my outfit.
Taunts about my clothes won’t derail me this time.
“All these mean comments, the way you talk to me—you don’t fool me anymore.
It’s all bravado, Kristen. You hide behind your money and your expensive clothes because you hope they mask the real you…
the one who’s still scared she hasn’t really made it. ”
She snaps, “Oh fuck off with the amateur counseling session,” but the corner of her lip quivers.
I’m right. I press harder. “I don’t know why I threaten you, but maybe it’s because you’re…you’re jealous.”
“Of you? Not likely, honey.”
“Because Sawyer likes me.”
She splutters an indignant sound. “That’s only because you’re so useless.
That man is too kind for his own good. He always has been.
But he’s a king who deserves a real woman who will fight for the important things in life.
I came from nothing. Look at me. Self-made.
I’m not hiding from anything or anyone. You’re the helpless baby bird that constantly needs rescuing. ”
“Any rescuing I need is usually from you.”
“All’s fair in love and war, honey. You didn’t see him in those weeks after his last breakup, but I did.
I won’t stand around and do nothing if he’s about to make the same mistake.
I’ve been waiting a long time for him to be ready to date again, and now, I’m making sure he notices me.
So, when you started hanging around the wharf…
” She smirks. “That’s what taking control looks like. That’s how you win your man.”
“But you didn’t. At all. Every attempt you made to insert yourself into his life just looked desperate.”
“You think you can talk to me like that because you went to university? Had a rich husband?”
“I can talk to you like that because you treat me like garbage, and I’m sick of it.
Do you truly believe Sawyer would choose to be with a person who tears someone else apart just to get what they want?
He’s kind and honest…and…and…so giving. He values people and props them up.
You’re the exact opposite of him. He would never choose you. ”
“But you think he’d choose you? You! He left because of you!”
I squeeze my eyes shut. My hand clenches when the reminder hits me full force in the chest, but I breathe through it. “He’ll come back when he’s ready. And when he does, you won’t be part of his life…or mine.” I point to the door. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Kristen puts her hands on her hips, but I challenge her right back by lifting my chin. The standoff lasts only a few seconds. Her shoulders slump.
As she slinks to the door, I call out, “And until the day you apologize to me for everything you’ve done, don’t ever speak to me again.”
I flop into the chair. My chest is heaving, but my eyes are bone dry. I made it through a confrontation without crying once. I know everyone’s staring at me. This afternoon, the nail salon will buzz with whispers about every detail.
But what does it even matter?
Sawyer, where are you?