Chapter Thirty
“A man’s pride can only take so much.” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.
Eric couldn’t believe he’d lost Gracie in this madhouse. When the band had started playing, he’d thought the crowd would thin a bit and he’d find her green dress like an emerald amongst the coal. But nope, and he was getting impatient. Ready to step up onto the stage and steal the lead singer’s mic in order to start calling her name.
He walked through the doorway toward the restroom, and that was when he saw her. She was sitting on a settee, reading something on her phone. He strode over to her, elated.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Without even glancing away from her phone, she said, dryly, “Well, now you’ve found me.”
Eric frowned at her sarcasm. Was she upset because she thought he’d ditched her? “Sorry I got pulled away and when I tried to find you, the crowd was too thick.”
“Mmm…mmm.” Was all she said.
Irritation swept over him. He was already in a uncomfortable social situation; he didn’t need her getting butthurt with him because he’d gotten lost for an hour or so.
“What are you doing? Bored with the party already?”
Gracie’s voice came out high, almost sing songy. “Oh no, the party has been really interesting. Everyone seems reeeeally excited about your book.”
The hairs on the back of Eric’s neck stood up at the way she drew out every word. “What have you heard?”
Finally, her eyes met his, and he saw the hurt, the anger, and the betrayal, and cursed. “It’s not what you think,” he said.
She slipped her phone into her clutch and shot him a disgusted look. “Really? It’s not what I think? Because what I think is it’s a revenge piece.”
“A revenge piece? What the hell is that—”
She broke in before he could even finish asking his question. “It’s something you write in order to inflict the maximum amount of pain on someone without actually using their name. It’s just a work of fiction, right? Not based on anyone?”
“That’s right, I used my Miss Know-It-All column as inspiration, but the whole book is made up.”
Gracie’s skin had taken on a crimson hue as she spoke. “Then why did your fucking editor feel like she knew me?”
Damn it, why were women so crazy? Why would Vanessa even bring up the book with Gracie. “There was a character who’s short and blonde, but that’s all she is—”
“No, no, that’s not all. She is also a ‘man-eater’ who toys with the hero’s emotions. She is a horrible, selfish person, and when she finally admits she’s in love with him, he leaves her. Hell, even I was cheering for him to dump her ass and the character is based on me !”
Eric could feel other people’s eyes on them and the murmurs of a crowd forming, but he refused to look. “Gracie, please, let’s just go somewhere and talk about this.”
“Talk about what? How you made your brother look like an idiot? Or how the majority of the town are terrible people who treat you as if you don’t matter?”
Unable to hold his temper in check, he exploded, “It’s just a book! Just a stupid fucking book.”
Gracie stepped into him and shoved him. “It’s a portrayal of the way you see us. Using our lives in your column was one thing, but this, right here, it’s mean. And wrong. You’re not Taylor Swift, Eric. Nobody broke your heart or laughed at you. People like and respect you. And you stomped all over them. All over me.”
She turned away from him and pressed the elevator button. As she stepped inside, she said loud enough for the people crowding around the room to hear, “At least this part of your book is accurate. You don’t get the girl.”
The doors closed, and Eric stood staring, aware that everyone around him was whispering, but he didn’t care. He was too busy thinking that if he’d only told Gracie…
Suddenly, his head snapped up, and he went after her. Taking the stairs, he ran down them, determined to catch her.
For a split second, her dramatics had made him remorseful, but that was all they were. He’d written a damn good book, a funny book, and just because he’d gotten the inspiration for it from living his whole life in Rock Canyon did not mean that the book was about her or anyone else.
She just wanted an excuse to run.
* * *
Gracie dashed at the tears on her cheeks as she stormed out onto the street. She held up her hand, realizing she’d left her jacket upstairs as the bitter cold air hit her skin. Taxi after taxi drove by, and she stomped her foot angrily.
“Come on!”
The door opened behind her, and she turned to find Eric, sweating and breathing so hard, it looked as though he was blowing fire.
By the thunderous expression on his face, maybe he was.
“Was that fun for you? Humiliating me in front of a room full of strangers?” he asked.
She tilted her chin up to counteract the twinge of guilt. “You brought me to a party where you knew people were going to laugh at me behind my back.”
“No, I didn’t! I wanted to be near you. Is that so crazy?”
“Actually, it is when you think I am a ‘ditzy, arrogant litt—’”
“Will you stop quoting the fucking book?” he snarled. “God, it’s not you, okay? I wrote that book for a year! I finished it over six months ago and have been cleaning it up with Neal. It was a release for me, but it wasn’t about you, it was about me and the way I felt.” He ran his hands over his head, and she watched him, the anguish that twisted his face. “It’s all bullshit. I wrote the column as an outlet, a way to laugh about our lives and the things the people in town did, but the book was about me. It was about how I see myself. And yeah, I might have used all of you for inspiration—”
“Right, so none of those situations were about me?”
He stopped pacing and clenched his fists. “Fine. You drove me crazy, all right? For years, you would flirt with me, and I’d end up feeling two inches by the time I saw you hooking up with some new guy. Fuck, Gracie, I’ve been into you since you were barely legal, and you treated me like I was dirt. So, yeah, maybe it was a little bit about making me feel better, but it wasn’t to hurt you. I wrote the book for me, and when I got the idea to shop it, I decided to change all the names, the town name, even the damn column. I picked out a pen name, just so nobody would connect the dots.”
“Then why bring me here? Huh? If you thought you were covering your tracks so well, why even tell me about who you were?”
She waited for him to answer, her arms crossed over her chest like a shield.
His dark eyes met hers with so much pain, she almost buckled. Almost reached for him. “Because even though I kept telling myself to move on, I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to show you how good we could be together if you just stopped being so scared.”
Fury sizzled through her arms and legs, her palm itching to slap him. How dare he turn this around on her?
“No, no! You do not get to do that! I may have been a bitch in the past, and I have made a lot of mistakes, but you weren’t this innocent guy who kept handing me his heart and getting rejected. You were an ass ! There were times you were so rude to me that I wanted to smack that smug look off your face. And you expected me to trust you after that? Well, guess what? I did trust you, and what do I get for it? Standing on a New York City sidewalk, screaming at you and crying because I feel like I’ve lost my best friend.”
She could feel her nose running, but she didn’t have any tissue. Her eyes were probably black with mascara tracks, but she was beyond caring. She had to get this out. Needed to.
“Over the last month, I’ve seen a side of you that empathizes, that can be there for other people because you’re just a good guy. I regretted hurting that man, the one who took care of me when I was sick and held me when I cried and who I thought…who I imagined more with. But after reading what you wrote, I have no idea who you are. Are you the asshole or the nice guy?”
He reached out to her, and she stepped back. “No. Not this time. You don’t get to make me cry and then make me feel better again. You called me, or I’m sorry, ‘Suzie,’ a cold woman who kept men at a distance.”
“It wasn’t you, it was just a character,” he growled, his frustration clear.
“The point is, I let my guard down with you, for the first time, and I should have known better.”
She turned her back on him and waved at another taxi coming down the street, only to be spun around. His hands held her shoulders firmly as he bent over her.
“I’m sorry, Gracie. I didn’t mean to hurt you in any way. I had so many feelings inside me, and I needed somewhere to put them. I swear, the character wasn’t you, but maybe you’re right. All the frustration and resentment was about you and how I felt. But this last month, I’ve seen you in a new light too, you know? I started to think that all the misconceptions and misunderstandings were a thing of the past and we were finally getting somewhere good.”
He let her go so fast, she nearly stumbled. “But at the first perceived infraction, you blow up and cause a scene. Then you run. Because that’s what you’re good at, right? You said so yourself. Love them and leave them.”
He took another step back, and she felt the distance between them like miles of bad road.
“When you come down from this and look at it from my side, I hope you realize that I’ve been honest. And that although I’ve made mistakes, this wasn’t a deal breaker.”
He put his hand on the door and gave her one last long look.
“Because I love you, Gracie Louise McAllister. Always have. Always will.”
She didn’t even hear the cab pull up behind her until he honked, she was so busy staring into the building as he disappeared. When the cabbie honked again, she climbed into the backseat, getting angrier by the minute.
How dare he drop the L bomb in the middle of a fight! Of all the conniving, sneaky, underhanded—
“Where to, miss?” the cabbie asked.
Gracie told him the hotel’s name, but when Eric got in, she wouldn’t be there. She needed to think.
Which was something she couldn’t do when a part of her wanted to forget this night had ever happened and go back to this morning, when she was sure she was in love with him.