Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
I t's an ordinary Wednesday at work, the bulk of which I have spent in a four-hour meeting with the hospital’s head of PR to work out the details for our upcoming gala. Invitations have been sent, and we are expecting more than three hundred attendees, including a dozen philanthropists with some very deep pockets. If all goes well, I have an ambitious goal of opening the unit by summertime. I'm back in my office, trying to finish up my last remaining tasks for the day and texting with Matt.
He sends me a picture of himself with a beer and a half dozen oysters somewhere, the sun illuminating his handsome face.
Wish you were here.
I stare out my window—March in New York is depressing. Gray, wet, and cold. Made worse by the knowledge that spring is just around the corner but feels so far away. I wonder for a moment why I live here. Especially since the man I love lives primarily in a place where it’s sunny most of the year. It’s not the first time I've thought this in recent weeks.
Wish I was too.
I can't wait to see you this weekend.
This weekend I'm cashing in on the second part of my Christmas gift from him—a surprise weekend away, hopefully somewhere warmer than New York. Just the two of us. I cannot wait.
I hear a tentative knock on my door.
“Come in!”
Dave pops his head in with an unreadable look on his face.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He meanders around my office, his hands behind his back, looking nervous. “Oh, nothing, just thought I’d see what you’re doing.”
“Okay, except you only ever come here if you want to gossip, take a nap, or steal my snacks, so what’s up?”
“Well … since you mentioned gossip, did you happen to look today at that gossip site I told you about?”
“No, Dave, you know I don't want to see anything on there. It’s bad for my health. And probably yours, too.”
“Well, maybe you should. I saw something. Today. About Matt. It’s kind of roundabout, but it's pretty obvious it’s him.”
My heart rate accelerates. “Matt says those websites are all bullshit. Half the time it's the people themselves submitting stuff to drum up PR. I don’t think we should pay attention to it.”
“Okay, well, I can’t not tell you, so I’m just going to read it quickly and then you can go back to ignoring it.” He pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “‘Dreamy solo singer who has been notoriously single for the past several years, save for his big debut with an unknown normie, seen canoodling with a love her/hate her country crooner in Santa Monica Tuesday night. Is our favorite lothario up to his old tricks?'”
It clearly describes Matt. My automatic thought is, Where there's smoke, there's fire . I have heard this from my mom for years, in the context of trusting your instincts. I feel nauseous.
“That’s bullshit, Dave,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster.
“You’re probably right, but the comments are blowing up. The Internet has already identified it as Matt and Kerri Taylor. No pictures, though. Not yet, at least.”
“I don’t want to see or hear about it. This is exactly what he warned me about.”
“Okay, Jules, I know you’re probably right. I just needed you to know. I couldn’t have you wandering out in the world without knowing this is circulating. Just talk to him about it. Clear the air. I'm sure it's a simple explanation. You’re seeing him this weekend, right?”
“Right. I will. Thanks for the heads-up.”
He walks out of my office with what looks like pity in his eyes. I do not like it.
I can't ignore the insidious thoughts percolating in my head, and I resist the urge to let myself go down the rabbit hole, knowing it is a terrible idea.
I tap my phone open and do it anyway.
As I scroll, I'm flooded with horrible thoughts.
Obviously, he is fucking someone else.
Of course it was too good to be true.
I knew there was no way this would work with me and him.
What was I thinking?
How did I get myself caught up in this shit?
He lives on a different planet, one where I don't belong.
There’s no way he would do that to me. He’s been nothing but honest from the start.
He loves me. I know he does.
But there were all those rumors years ago about stuff exactly like this. History repeats itself.
Kerri Taylor? That bitch. The hideous, horrible bitch.
If that’s what he’s into, then obviously there’s no way he’s into me. We could not be more different. I have a soul, for one.
Why did I put myself in this position in the first place?
I am a fucking idiot.
This is so humiliating. Even if it isn’t true, most people don’t know that.
Did I betray myself again?
Did I ignore my instincts?
What did I miss?
Why can’t I ever get this right?
I scan Kerri Taylor's social media and see she indeed appears to be in LA. So? LA is a huge town. I Google Kerri Taylor and Matt Johnson . The gossip site link pops up first, but it's already been picked up by TMZ, and they have a photo. The very grainy, barely discernible picture shows someone Matt’s height and build, but I immediately recognize the jacket he is wearing. It's him. Leaving a restaurant and getting into a waiting car. Followed by an equally distorted long-range photo of someone resembling Kerri Taylor leaving the same restaurant, getting into a separate car. Her platinum blond hair is impossible to miss. My chest clenches.
It takes all my willpower to shut down my brain and my Google search and focus on something else. I send a quick email to my coworkers that I'm heading home early. I can't possibly sit here for another minute.
The walk home clears my head, but barely. This is the exact scenario Matt has described. He's coached me, prepped me, reassured me that something like this was almost a guarantee. He told me how to handle it, how to turn down the noise, how to ignore it. Just keep doing what you're doing , his voice floods through my head. He's done nothing in our entire relationship that would lead me to believe I can't trust him. And yet, I've had years of lived experience watching my mom, my girlfriends, even myself, in a way, be blindsided by men who change their minds. Back and forth, back and forth I go in my brain the entire twenty blocks home.
By the time I unlock my front door, I decide I won't say anything to him about it.