When we made it to her car, she opened the door and waved. “Talk to you soon.”
“Definitely.”
I watched her drive off and fired off a text to my sisters:We need to talk.
The drive to my house was uneventful, which was good, because all I could think about was Color of Law and their plans for me. I’d already debated it in my head and had analyzed the pros and cons. I’d talked to my sisters briefly and even prayed for an answer, a clue, some sort of sign. And I’d probably debate, analyze and overthink it tomorrow—and the next day. The only thing that seemed to be clear was…I want it.
I parked in my garage and hopped out of the car. Once inside my house, I headed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. A moment later, my phone buzzed. I eyed the display and answered. “What are you doing?”
“Girl, working,” Demi said. “I’ve been preparing this complaint for hours. Have to get it just right.”
I stretched my legs and arms and leaned against the counter. “Wait ‘til I tell you about dinner.”
“You know I want to know. I miss Maya. Wish I could’ve been there.”
“I needed you there. Before I start, though…did you do what you said you would do?”
“He’s not here right now. But his shit is outside. That’s a start, right?”
I shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t bring that suitcase back in the house with his patented sob story about his childhood.” I peeled a banana. “I have so much shit to do. I’m supposed to help Blake with her housewarming party this weekend, and I still haven’t been to the grocery store. I’m in charge of drinks.”
“Uh-oh,” she grumbled.
Frowning, I bit into my banana. “What’s wrong? Is he home?”
“No, but you have bigger things to worry about than drinks. Get your laptop.”
Dread filled my gut. “Why?”
“Just do it.”
I set the banana down and walked over to my desk. I wiggled the mouse and it powered up. Then, I entered the password and sat down. “What am I looking for?”
“Kimball Payne.”
Oh,no. I tapped the keyboard with my thumb. “Before I do this… Is he dead?”
“No. But you might kill him when you see what happened.”
I typed in his name and my heart sunk. “Fuck.”
“You have to call Skye, because you’re going to need a PR person. Now.”
My best friend wasn’t wrong. She was one hundred percent right. Kimball wasn’t the only name trending. Mine was too. I scrolled through pages of commentary about me and the status of my relationship with my ex. Pictures of us together littered the internet, memes created of the scene outside of the restaurant earlier. Instead of attorney Dallas Young, I was now Kimball Payne’s side chick and the homewrecker trying to ruin his marriage.Shit.
* * *
Three milesin sweltering hot temperatures was the perfect way to start my day, but it did nothing to ease my mind. The last couple of days had been a nightmare filled with retweets about my relationship with Kimball, nasty emails from fans of his wife, interview requests from reporters, YouTube vloggers spouting unsubstantiated rumors, and calls from concerned family and friends. Dex had nearly kicked a photographer’s ass yesterday because he’d harassed me all the way into the office. Even my father had had to tell some dude off for camping out near the gate of my parents’ home.
I wasn’t one to let anyone see me sweat, but I’d had my share of meltdowns in the privacy of my home since thenewshad broken. Nothing was how it should’ve been. I should’ve been on cloud nine, preparing to charm the board of Color of Law and negotiating cases for my clients. But I’d been inundated with mess.
After my run, I pulled up the weeds in my yard, mowed the lawn, and turned on the sprinklers. On my way into the house, I noticed a small envelope on the porch. Picking it up, I checked for a return address on the front and back.Nothing.
I walked into the house, dropped my towel on the floor near the door, and opened the envelope. Fury laced through my veins as I read the fancy script:
you are cordially invited to the wedding of
dallas young
