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Stop it, Katie.
I had no idea how long we stood like that—as if we both wanted to make the moment last a little longer—before his phone vibrated in his pocket. Repeatedly.
He sighed. “I need to check that. There’s only one person who’d try to call me on Thanksgiving, and it won’t be with good news.”
I reluctantly stepped away, and Nolan released me. I turned to watch as he answered his phone. But he moved too far away for me to hear anything.
His expression, however, went from irritated to downright furious.
Then he looked at his phone, tapped it a few times, and he growled. “What the fuck?”
I sidled up to him and asked, “What is it?”
“Wendy and her damn Thanksgiving message. Here, you should read it. Prepare yourself.”
After giving him a wary glance, I took his phone and scanned her social media post. By the end, I was speechless.
Nolan took his phone and asked, “Are you okay, Katie? I promise none of it’s true.” He waited, but I still couldn’t believe what I’d just read, and he added, “Just talk to me, baby.”
When I could finally string a few sentences together, I said, “How does she even know about us already?”
He placed a hand on my back and rubbed it in slow circles. “I wouldn’t put it past her to have people watching me.” He paused and then softened his voice. “Do you want to back out? I’d totally understand. Her hatred and vitriol shouldn’t be your problem.”
The most hurtful paragraph from the post came back to me:
My darling Nolan recently signed a deal to be the spokesperson for that trendy weight loss program—you know the one. He’s so dedicated, as usual, and to help advertise the deal, he even found a fat woman to be his temporary girlfriend. After the New Year, he’ll dump her and has finally agreed to set a date with me. Keep an eye out! Two lucky fans will win a trip to my wedding.
I hadn’t been picked on like that since I was a teenager, and a mixture of emotions swirled inside me—anger, insecurity, irritation, pity, and sadness, both at her and for myself.
Rationally, I knew it took a mean and really insecure person to throw shit like that around. And yet, all those years of being bullied came back to me, along with the pain.
Tears even pricked my eyes, but there was no way in hell I’d cry in front of Nolan Wolfe.
So I said, “I just need a minute. Make excuses to your family? I’ll be back before dinner, I promise.”
And with that, I ran through the hall and to the door that connected with the reception area at the front, used for the winery customers.
I found a bench along one side, sat down, and put my head in my hands. Wendy’s words had brought back the taunts and tricks and pure hell the Mean Girls of Starry Hills had put me through.
It shouldn’t bother me any longer. It really shouldn’t. After all, I was a grown-ass adult. I’d learned to be outgoing and how to flirt. How to make people notice me for something other than my body, and it’d worked for so many years.
However, I didn’t think being outrageous would solve this problem like when I’d been younger.
Or could it?
Being outrageous without crossing the line into bitchy would be difficult. I never wanted to become a bully myself, even if I thought someone deserved it. Wendy Webster most probably did, and yet I didn’t want Nolan to suffer because of my actions. I was supposed to be helping him, not making it worse.
After taking a deep breath, I lifted my head and nodded to myself. I would think of a way to handle Nolan’s ex.
He’d warned me from the beginning about how she would be mean and horrible and try to make me cry. Well, I wasn’t about to let her win.
And now that I knew what kind of shit she’d throw my way, I could better focus and figure out a plan.
Chapter Eight
Nolan
Jenn: I’ve already started on damage control.
