Nice.
Belatedly, the words accompanying the picture joined the throng of torture in my head. I wiped my stinging eyes and grabbed the paper from Jazz.
Jack approached, holding a bottle of water.
The headline, Audrey loses baby in grief over Jack’s cheating ways, was followed by a messy timeline dating back well before I’d met Jack. I was one in a long line of conquests, according to the article, but held particular significance because I caused such a rift in their relationship that she’d lost her baby. And in her grief she’d sought comfort and solace from the director of her new movie. Whatever. But it was all so … believable.
“Look, I can talk to him,” Jack said to whoever was on the phone. He handed me the water but didn’t look at me.
Please look at me.
“Have Sheila and my lawyer reach out to him. See if we can come to some kind of deal before he turns the story in. He can’t use the pictures without being sued. I own the rights. And I can promise you, I’ll sue the fuck out of him. But realistically, he’ll use them, then retract, so he’ll still get impact.”
“I can’t believe one girl can be such a bitch.” Jazz grimaced.
“Yeah,” Jack murmured. “She just waited until we were out of the contract and did exactly what she’d wanted to all along.” He turned toward the boat, looking out into the distance.
He hadn’t touched me since we’d left the cottage. I felt the loss of it keenly. At the same time I felt so irrationally angry and irritated with him, I felt if he touched me, I’d cringe.
“We need to get to Savannah.” Jack said to us, as he ended his phone call. “Devon will pick us up. I’ll arrange to meet this guy there instead of back in Butler Cove. Then maybe you guys can get home without him bothering you.” He headed toward the boat.
God. Was this going to be my life?
“How’s Joey?” I asked Jazz, my throat raspy.
She pursed her lips. “Mad as a yellow jacket. He said Jack swore to him this wouldn’t happen.”
“When did you do that?” I asked Jack’s back.
He shrugged, not turning around. “Yesterday. On the beach.”
Please look at me, I willed him again, to no avail.
We climbed on the boat and Jazz’s phone buzzed. She paused to pull it out of her back pocket. “Oh shit buckets,” she said.
“What?”
“That Ashley girl is telling everyone she made out with you, Jack. Apparently that photo of you guys she posted on Facebook a few days ago has gone nutso, and now she’s making all sorts of shit up.”
“Great,” I muttered tonelessly as my chest grew tight. I couldn’t even look at Jack anymore. He’d said he would keep me out of the craziness, and while I knew he couldn’t help Audrey’s actions, his stupid night out with Devon had just made it all worse. And to be honest, a part of me blamed him for Audrey, too. Surely, her prior behavior should have alerted him to how unhinged and spiteful she was. I knew I was being irrational and that Jack was hurt, too. We should be dealing with this together … but we’d both just closed off from each other. It was agonizing, yet … I couldn’t help it.
I sat in the back of the boat on a soft white vinyl cushion as we sped across the inland waterway, making for a Marina at Tybee, just south of Savannah. The normally freeing feeling of being out on the water felt like a death knell.
Feeling Jack’s eyes on me finally, I could practically hear him begging me to look at him, but I was afraid he’d see accusation in my eyes now. I took another sip of water as Jazz came and sat next to me, sliding an arm around my shoulders.
Jack got up with a sigh and made his way to the bow of the boat.
Shit.
The idea of Ashley going around saying she and Jack had done stuff just about gave me hives. It didn’t matter that I knew they hadn’t. Perception was fact. I shuddered. What about when he was away on a movie and this happened? Would I be so sure it wasn’t true then? Did I fully trust Jack? Was I a secure enough person?
I couldn’t imagine how this relationship was going to do anything but bring out every single ugly insecurity I had.
I’d promised Jack I’d take the bad with the good, but I wasn’t sure I was strong enough for this.
Devon met us in Tybee in the Jeep. Jazz had apparently gone to him first after Joey’s call to tell him what was going on, and it had been his suggestion for us to divert to Savannah. He was of the opinion that it was easier to stay incognito in places where people didn’t expect us to be. And not knowing what the reporter’s timing was for the story, it seemed to make sense.
After Jack’s and my obvious breakdown in communication, he ended up on the phone nonstop for the remainder of the boat ride to the marina in Tybee. From what I could tell, first with Sheila and his agent, and then with a lawyer they must have conferenced in about drawing up papers for a potential lawsuit.
In the end, Jazz and I decided to use our time in Savannah wisely. We asked Devon to drop us downtown in order to make another attempt at dress shopping.
Since we were there and all.
My brother was coming to get us later in Jazz’s car because we didn’t dare have him drive his car or my truck in case someone wanted to follow him.
It was a weird, creepy cloak and dagger situation. I was sure a lot of people would get off on the danger element … I didn’t find it remotely exciting. It made me daydream about what it would feel like to pop a Xanax. And I wanted to smack Jack for acting like he was the only one affected.
With barely a word from us to the guys, and not one word from Jack to me, we climbed out and headed into a department store. I tried to shake off the horrible lonely feeling I had at Jack’s standoffish-ness. And I knew I’d done the same to him.
“This isn’t working,” Jazz moaned as she stared at me around the changing room curtain.
“Tell me about it,” I agreed morosely with her assessment of our dress choices. It wasn’t that they were all awful, but how on earth did I pick something for such a momentous occasion. That I could afford. That didn’t look like I was going to Prom.
First of all, I’d never been to a grown-up black-tie affair. Secondly, I was a guest of honor. Gulp. And thirdly, there might be an A-list Hollywood celebrity in attendance. And I was going to be portrayed as his arm-candy. And with the axe of a tabloid exposé about to fall, I was in major anxiety–mode.
“So, look. What’s the worst that can happen?” Jazz always enjoyed playing devil’s advocate.
“Uh …”
“Coz, I’ll tell you how I see it.” She posed against the doorframe to the changing room, hand on hip and head cocked to one side. “Insanely handsome Hollywood god brings free publicity to extremely talented, but relatively unknown artist.” She bobbed her head back quickly to make sure we were still alone and cocked an eyebrow at me. “Oh, and he worships the ground she walks on. Did I cover everything?”
“Fine, Jazz. I know.” I rolled my eyes at her. It did sound fine when she put it like that. “But you know me.”
“Yep. Yep, I do.”
“And he acted horribly this morning,” I grumbled.
“Of course he did. He’d just promised Joey he would avoid this, and it happened anyway—and within hours. He must feel like shit. Not that it’s okay.”