Leaning forward, she rests her elbow on the table with a palm propping her chin up to look at me. “You’re overthinking this. Take it a day at a time and see where it goes. He’s faced your parents with you, promised to help with all your medical bills, went down on you—” She laughs at me. “Quit making that face! Some guys don’t like doing that and not only did he not think twice, but he also didn’t expect anything in return.”
I pale. “Do you think he wanted me to return the favor?”
“From what you said, no. I mean I’m sure he would have loved you paying special attention to little Garrick, but it isn’t like he asked you to suck his dick or make a move to do anything else. See? You’re overthinking.”
“You would too in my situation,” I accuse, all but groaning. “You’re lucky that you have Elijah. I thought I’d at least be dating someone by now. Getting serious. Talking engagement. Considering kids, even. I’m stressed.”
“And horny,” she adds, grinning. I don’t bother expressing my irritation over her blatant, but not untrue, statement. “Think of it this way, Ry. You skipped all the real stressful stuff and got a gorgeous ring and simple wedding. I mean, that’s what you wanted anyway. Nothing big or glamorous or showy. You used to hate thinking about all the money people spend on one day of their lives. In a way, you got your dream wedding.”
“My parents weren’t there.” Grandpa Al. Grandma Birdie.
“So throw a reception.”
My mother brought that up at breakfast, trying to guilt trip me into saying yes. If Garrick hadn’t walked downstairs, I would have caved. I know I’m not off the hook yet. She’ll bring it up until I eventually agree, and Dad won’t bother trying to help because he knows Mom will get her way no matter what.
Moffie nudges my foot with hers. “Just have fun. Enjoy what time you do have with Garrick and ignore everyone else. Except me. You need to keep me in the loop. Maybe give me something signed by him.”
“Moffie!”
“You’re right. I can just ask him when he comes to pick you up,” she theorizes. “Do you think I made a fool of myself in front of him earlier?”
I want to lie, but I know Eli will have that handled. So, I say, “Big time.”
She groans.
I smile.
She flips me off.
Then we gossip about town news like the most exciting thing that happened in our lives is Mrs. Inger leaving her husband for the mayor’s much younger wife.
Eli looks ashen when he walks into the kitchen a few hours later, grim eyes directed at me. The laughter between me and Moffie fades quickly as I grip my empty glass.
Moffie asks, “What is it, babe?”
“You’re not going to like it.” He stretches out his hand, phone in his palm with an article pulled up. As soon as I wrap my fingers around the Android and pull it to me, my stomach drops.
Moffie instantly comes up behind me, reading over my shoulder with a hand on my back for comfort. “Oh, hell no.”
Former Boss of Rylee Simmons Speaks Out Against Newlywed
Whatever Sarina could have said can’t be good if Eli, a total germaphobe, looks like he wants to hug me.
It’s Moffie who reads out, “‘Sarina Cunningham of the L.A. Free Press breaks silence on former tabloid writer Rylee Simmons, now Rylee Matthews,’—” I frown at the last name like it still hasn’t hit me. “—‘regarding the writer’s conflict of interest following her marriage to Grammy award-winning Australian singer Garrick Matthews.”
“Conflict of interest?” I repeat in confusion, shaking my head slowly as my friend continues reading.
“’Cunningham states that Simmons was assigned to Matthews after Violet Wonders made news following reports of a possible breakup, where she involved herself with the singer to get money from the Free Press. In a statement given to Hollywood Exposed, Cunningham states, ‘If Rylee Simmons has any sense, she’ll return the money given to her by the Free Press before she quit. She withheld information by personally involving herself in her work, and this isn’t the first time. I should have fired her years ago when she was sleeping with Zayne Gray from the same band.’”
Oh my God. Feeling like I’m going to get sick, I scrape back the chair and dart toward the little half bath off the main hallway. Slamming the door shut, I sink onto my knees and gag into the open toilet.
A knock sounds at the door. “Ry? I’m coming in.” The door cracks open and a moment later Moffie closes it behind her, walking over until she’s kneeling beside me. “Hey. People probably won’t even believe her. Who is she in the grand scheme of things? She’s always told you to forget about your morals and go after a good story and you did.”
When I realize nothing is going to come up, I sit and drag my bent knees to my chest. “It doesn’t matter if people believe her, it’s out there in the world for everyone to dissect. This is karma, isn’t it? It’s because of all the things I wrote for money.”
My forehead slams against the tops of my knees as Moffie rubs my back. “You made mistakes, but this isn’t karma for them. This is just your boss being a bitch. I never liked her. She’s a snake.”
I groan. “There are pictures.” I may not have gone out with Zayne often, but enough for people to take photos when we weren’t looking. I told myself not to pay attention, to pretend I didn’t care. And most of the time that was easy because Zayne would keep my attention by telling me fun stories and the things he wanted to accomplish for himself. It wasn’t hard to ignore the people around us when I was with him.
Then again, he was never as big as Garrick. The whole band has a massive following, but only the lead really has a crowd of loyal
