Chapter 39
Rumors
SADIE
When we get home, I turn on the TV and flop down on the couch. I just need to turn my brain off for a while.
Walker settles next to me and pulls me in close. This is probably our last night alone together and some part of me knows we should be making the most of it.
Instead I'm too wrung out to do anything other than this, my cheek on his shoulder, his hand moving slow through my hair.
The TV shifts to one of those entertainment news shows, the kind I normally flip past, and a gratingly enthusiastic voice blares through the room.
“Next, on Entertainment Now. Supermodel Isabella de Bont tells us exclusively about her new swimsuit line, her love life, and those rumors everyone’s been talking about.”
The video clip of Walker’s gorgeous ex-wife strolling along a beach flashes across the screen.
Walker reaches for the remote to change the channel.
“Wait.” My hand closes over his. “Don't change it.”
“Sadie.” His voice is low. A warning. “Whatever she's about to say, you don't want to hear it. Everything she does is engineered to draw more attention to herself.”
“I want to hear it.”
Reluctantly, he puts the remote back down.
The shot cuts to Isabella being interviewed.
Blonde hair slicked back in a perfect clean-girl bun, grey eyes wide.
She’s gorgeous. I've always known it, but seeing her perfect face and perfect body and perfect everything in full 4K high definition, sitting next the man who used to be married to her, makes my stomach twist unpleasantly.
“I couldn't believe it when I heard,” Isabella says on-screen. Her voice is soft and wounded. Entirely convincing if you don't look at her eyes. “My ex-husband. With the nanny. Parading around in front of our child like that.”
Walker goes rigid beside me.
On screen, her manicured hand clutches at her chest. “Shock.
That's what I felt. Shock and disgust. Walker Rhodes is many things. But I didn't think he was that kind of man. So I have to assume…” There’s a delicate pause, perfectly timed.
“Well, I have to assume that this girl came in with a plan. Women like that, they know what they're doing. And there's a child involved.” Her eyes tighten at the corners like she’s about to cry, though no tears actually fall. “My poor baby. Caught in the middle. That’s what keeps me up at night. You just want to protect your child, you know?”
Walker shuts off the TV and the room goes silent, but my heart is pounding.
Walker is already reaching for his phone. I see the name on the screen before he puts it to his ear.
His lawyer.
“Hey. You've seen it?” He gets up from the couch, jaw tight, voice dropping to the controlled quiet that means he's furious. “I need you to…” He moves toward the kitchen, already three steps into handling it, already in the mode he goes into when something needs fixing.
I sit on the couch.
Women like that, they know what they’re doing. They come in with a plan.
I did have a plan, when I drove past the gates of Wild Rose Ranch this June. A simple plan. It was a summer job. Money for New York. Nothing more complicated than that.
But it got complicated, didn’t it?
As for the idea that I know what I’m doing…
I have never been more lost in my entire life.
I used to always have a plan. A path.
And now I’m finding that I want to take a different one.
One that I don’t have to walk alone. One where I hold the hand of a cowboy on one side, and a little boy on the other.
Walker comes back into the room. He sits back down and pulls me back against his side and presses his mouth to my hair.
“You okay?” he says.
“Fine.”
“My lawyer's already on it,” Walker says. His thumb moves slow along my shoulder, back and forth. I can tell he’s torn between his anger and his need to make sure I'm okay. “Cease and desist by morning. If she says anything else, anything at all, we take it further.”
I nod. I'm looking at the TV, the screen black now, but still seeing that perfect face as she pretends to tear up while tearing me down.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Talk to me, darlin’.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” He takes my face in both hands. “What she said… I need you to hear me on this.”
I look at him.
“What you just watched wasn't real. It sure as hell wasn't concern for Jonah. It was a performance, start to finish, designed to get people talking about her. She’s a master manipulator. One of the best I’ve ever encountered, and trust me, in show business, I’ve met the cream of the crop.”
“For a performance, it was a convincing one.”
“No, it wasn’t. You're the furthest thing from what she described. Anyone who knows you sees that. And anyone who doesn't know you doesn't fucking matter.”
“I don’t care about that, Walker. She can imply I’m a slut and gold-digger and whatever else until the cows come home. I know it’s not the truth. But she’s right about one thing.”
His eyes search mine, truly at a loss. “What?”
“There is a child caught up in the middle of this. One who I’m going to hurt by leaving.”
The wave of guilt I feel then is almost crushing.
“Baby,” he breathes. He pulls me back against his chest, his arms coming all the way around me.
There’s a long silence where he seems to be gathering his thoughts.
And then he says, “Jonah is going to be okay. You know why?”
I shake my head.
“Because of everything you've given him this summer.
That doesn't disappear when you get on a plane.” His chin presses to my hair.
“He's a different kid than he was in June. More open. More confident. He reads now, Sadie. Actually reads, sits down and does it on his own because you made him believe he could. He knows he can put his mind to something and make it happen. You gave him that gift.”
I press my face into his chest and say nothing because if I say anything I'm going to cry and I fear I won’t be able to stop.
“He knows his mom left,” Walker continues, “and that hurt him and it still hurts him.
But it also means he knows people can leave and life keeps going.
He knows how to love someone who isn't there every day.” His hand stills on my back.
“And he's gonna have you. Not in the house, not at breakfast every morning.
But you're not disappearing. You're a phone call away.
You're coming back for holidays if I have anything to say about it.” A pause. “Do I have anything to say about it?”
Blinking back the tears pressing hot behind my eyes, I smile. “Yeah,” I say into his chest. “You have something to say about it.”
“Good.” His arms tighten again. “Then Jonah gets to keep you. Different than this summer, but he keeps you. And Jonah knowing you, loving you, being loved by you… he’s lucky he got to have someone like you in his life.”
At his words, the joy and the guilt and the love flow through me, all mixed hopelessly together.
I admit, “I don't want him to blame himself for anything. The way kids do. The way I did, when my dad left.”
Walker's hand stills on my jaw.
“He won't,” he says. “Because tomorrow morning before you go, we're going to tell him together, that you love him and you're coming back.” His eyes hold mine. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
In the morning I start packing.
I get up carefully, so I don't wake Walker, and I go to my room. My old room, the nanny's room, the room I haven't actually slept in for months. I pull my suitcase out from under the bed.
I'm folding a dress when my phone buzzes with a call.
Dr. Patricia Hale. Director of the Whitmore School. My new boss.
Heart pounding, I answer immediately.
“Sadie.” Warm and professional in equal measure. “I hope I'm not calling too early. I know the time difference between Montana and the East Coast.”
“Not at all. Good morning, Dr. Hale.”
“I've been meaning to call. I wanted to check in, make sure you're doing well. We've all seen the news coverage.”
My lungs feel tight.
“I see,” I manage.
“I want to say, on behalf of the school, that we stand behind you completely.”
I let out the breath I've been holding. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
“Of course. It sounds like a private matter between two adults, and frankly it speaks well of you that Mr. Rhodes has been so public about his regard for you.” A smile in her voice. “He seems like a remarkable man.”
“He is,” I say.
I don't hear Walker in the doorway until I turn and find him there, leaning against the frame in his sweatpants, eyes moving from me to the suitcase on the bed.
Put it on speaker, he mouths.
I do.
“So glad to hear the summer has been such a positive experience,” Dr. Hale is saying. “We were a little concerned when the story first broke, but it sounds like it's worked out beautifully for everyone involved.”
“It has,” I say. A little stiff now. A little leery. Because she’s just a little too cheerful about all of this, and it’s starting to set off some alarm bells inside my head.
“Wonderful.” A brief pause, the sound of papers being shuffled. “Now Sadie, I don't want to put you on the spot, and please feel free to say no, but I wanted to float something past you while I had you on the line.”
Her tone shifts slightly. Still warm. A little shrewd now, too.
“We're doing a fundraising push for our music program this fall. Given your connection to Mr. Rhodes, I was wondering whether he might consider coming in to speak to the students. Or a small performance. Or if that's not feasible, a donation to the program, perhaps?”
I pause. Take in exactly what’s happening here. What I thought this conversation was about, and what it really is about instead.
A transaction.
Of course. I guess this is as good an introduction to city life versus small town as anything else.
“I'll talk to him about it,” I say. “I'll let you know.”
“Of course. Anything you can do.” A warm laugh. “We're so looking forward to having you, Sadie. See you in a few days.”
“See you then.”
I hang up.