35. Ashton
ASHTON
I open the backstage door to the hall, my heart racing, ready to confront my mom or Griffin—I’m not sure which. From the look on his face, he knew. He knew they were together. Why didn’t he tell me? Griffin’s lack of honesty stings more than witnessing his dad with my mom.
Midway down the darkened hallway, a couple embraces. I divert my gaze to give them privacy. Except I recognize a familiar sparkle of sequins. Scarlet.
With Griffin.
He’s looking at her with such tenderness. The same way he’s looked at me. He brushes her face with his thumb and whispers something. Griffin kisses her forehead and pulls her against him.
My rib cage cracks wide open. My limbs go numb. My hand fumbles for something to grasp. To lean into. To support my weakened frame.
Griffin rests his chin atop Scarlet’s head and catches my eye.
“Ashton?” His face is aghast.
I whirl to exit behind me, but I’m trapped by the stage door. I blindly push the door closest to me—my mind a jumble of confusion and emotions.
Tears stream down my face, blurring the ballroom in a swirl of colors. I swipe my cheeks as I bypass everyone’s blatant stares, bumping and tripping into guests.
Griffin shouts my name across the ballroom, but I don’t dare look.
I burst through the main hallway toward the entrance doors. My toes pinch in my heels as I run toward the exit, praying the limo driver is parked close enough to make a quick getaway.
The hallway is dark and empty.
“Ashton, wait. Let me explain.” Griffin’s broken plea stops me.
The pain hits me all at once. I’m tired of running. I’m tired of not confronting people. I don’t want to run anymore.
I whirl on him. “How could you do that to me? Why didn’t you tell me you have feelings for Scarlet?” My voice cracks.
He strides toward me.
I press into the door, the cool glass against my back.
He stops a couple feet away. “I don’t. I was merely comforting her. There’s nothing between us.”
He holds out his hand like he wants to touch me, but lets it fall to his side.
“From the day I met you, I was smitten with you.” His chest rises and falls fast. “You’re the only one to ever look past my fame—blatantly ignore it, really,” his lips twitch—“and see the real me. You are the kindest, most selfless person I know. You’ve brought a light into my life I didn’t realize was missing.
You’ve made me want to be not just a better actor, but a better man.
For the first time, I feel like the leading man in my own life. ”
I close my eyes, tears leaking. “Then why?”
“What you saw was me calming a friend. Nothing else. Scarlet knows there’s nothing between me and her.”
“You’ve continually complained about having to pretend with her. And yet, the second you two are alone, you’re wrapped in each other’s arms?” It’s a low blow given Griffin has never caused me to doubt his sincerity, but the sight of them makes no sense.
With his career as an actor, how am I ever going to be able to distinguish the truth with him? I’m not sure I’m made to be with a person whose life involves constant pretending.
“I was comforting her. She just confessed she loves me.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Ashton, I was hugging her because while she may have said she loves me, I made it clear I’m in love with you.” He takes another step and whispers, “ Only you.”
I tense.
Anguish fills his gaze. “I love you, Ashton. I’ve wanted to tell you for weeks now—since the ranch, but I didn’t want to scare you. I want it to be just you and me—for real. I’ll shout it to the whole world if you’ll let me. I don’t care about the contract anymore.”
My chin wobbles and tears fill my eyes. I want to believe him so badly, and yet, my mind and my heart are in such a jumble after witnessing not just him and Scarlet, but my mom with his dad, too. A secret he clearly knew about.
“What about my mom? Why didn’t you tell me about her being with your dad?”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “I meant to. I just forgot.”
“You forgot?”
He heaves out a breath. “Yes. Honestly, I didn’t think they’d still be together.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since the Rhodeses’ party.”
“That was three weeks ago, Griffin! And you never found the time to mention it?”
“I know. I messed up. I’m sorry.” He steps forward, this time gently touching my fingertips with his.
I pull away from his touch. “I need space. I need time to think. To process.”
His face looks wounded. His shoulders fall, and he exhales. “Okay. I can give you that.”
Luke barges through the ballroom door and stalks toward us. “What’s going on?” He stops short at the sight of my face. “What happened?” His eyes go from mine to Griffin’s.
“Later. Would you mind calling the limo driver to meet Ashton at the entrance?”
“Sure thing.” He whips out his cell phone and turns his back, saying a few words.
I tune it out as I study Griffin. He shoves his hands in his pockets. Hands that I know are dying to touch me, to hold me, because I know him. I know him. Don’t I? He’s nothing like the lying, cheating, scheming Tanner.
And yet, tonight hurt all that much more because it’s Griffin. The man I love.
“Okay, he’s pulling up now.”
“Would you mind walking Ashton out?” Griffin’s tone is resigned.
“Sure.” Luke walks to my side and holds out his arm.
I slip my hand through his offered arm, look one more time at Griffin, and exit the door. We silently walk down the venue steps toward the garden, my heels clapping against the concrete.
“You okay?” Luke whispers.
“Not really.”
“Want me to beat him up?”
Despite everything, this gets a chuckle out of me. I swipe at my nose. “Maybe.”
At the base of the stairs, Luke pushes open the garden gate. Within seconds of rounding the expansive bushes, flashes of light fill my vision. Shouts yell at me from all directions.
“Ms. Blake. Ms. Blake—why’d you disown your family?”
“Is it true? You’re dating Griffin Ford?”
“Ms. Blake, how does it feel to break up America’s sweetheart couple?”
My vision blurs.
They said my name.
They know my name.
Lights blind me. My head spins.
Luke grips me tightly around the waist, his forearm shielding my face from the paparazzi’s onslaught. He straightens his arm, using it as a ramrod to push back the encroaching photographers. “Please, no pictures. No pictures, please. We have no comment.”
But it doesn’t stop their insistent shouting.
“Ms. Reid, look right here!”
“Ms. Blake, over here!”
“Ms. Reid!” One voice lifts above the throng of photographers.
I shield my eyes.
Winston slides up next to my other side, the two men sandwiching me under their protective wings.
“Move!” Winston shouts.
“Out of the way!” Luke roars over the crowd in a commanding voice I’ve never heard him use before.
The mass of people doesn’t subside until we’re right in front of the limo.
Winston opens the door. “In you go, miss.”
I slip into the limo. The door shuts behind me. The noise of the paparazzi mutes by a fraction. Luke continues to shout at the crowd to back off as Winston races around the limo and opens the driver’s door.
I collapse onto my side and curl into a ball. My chest shudders with big, gasping breaths. My head pounds, my weeping uncontrollable. Holding my knees, I rock back and forth, wishing I could blink and this nightmare would just go away.
But it doesn’t.
Because this is my reality.
The world knows who I am. And once again, the world gets a front-row seat to me being painted as the other woman. I am not the villain.
I am the victim.
My chest aches like it’s been ripped open, my heart pulled out and splayed against the concrete for all to observe.
Winston comes through the intercom, soft and hesitant. “Ma’am, where to? Still the Reynolds residence?” The limo privacy screen remains closed, thank goodness. I don’t need any more witnesses to my sobbing.
I try to steady my voice. “That’ll be fine, Winston. Thank you.”
I can’t stay at Wren’s anymore. It’s too close to Griffin. I need time away. Space to think. Clear my head. I’ll go collect my things and the dogs.
The puppies!
They’re at Griffin’s. I’ll have to use the code he gave me to get in. I just hope I can get in and out before he gets home.
I’m back in the same position I was a month ago—homeless. I snatch my phone off the seat and open my contacts to call the only other person I know who might take me in besides Lynn.
As the phone rings, I fight the urge to hang up.
“Hello?”
“Cecily, I need your help.”