Page 59 of Postmarked December

With a trembling hand, she ended the call and set the phone on the counter in a haze of confusion. She paced the kitchen, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the dizziness from her head. She bent over and put her hands on her knees, her back heaving as her heart shattered. Nick had broken her trust in the biggest way—he’d lied to her face. And she’d believed it.

Her body locked in the pain of his deception and betrayal. Indignation boiled over like a forgotten pot on the stove. She’d quietly sat there, day after day, worrying she’d said something wrong. She’d made excuses for him, chalking his silence up to the holidays, and all along he’d only been pretending to have an interest in her. And he’d had the audacity to prey on a grieving widow’s loneliness. That phone number he’d given her probably wasn’t even his. How could she ever trust anyone after this?

Looking back with this new information, it was ridiculous for her to think that Mr. Perfect would magically show up on a flight, woo her, and they’d live happily ever after. He’d taken fifty thousand dollars to write a book about her that he had surely known she wouldn’t approve of after cutting him off on the phone whenever he’d called. He hadn’t gotten a clue from her telling him she wasn’t interested, and she’d hung up on him at least once. And yet, he was still going through with writing it. Even worse, he’d known that and still flashed that adorable grin at her, flirted with her, and used his dog to melt her heart.

Leaving all her bags where they were, she went into her bedroom and fell onto her bed. She buried her head in the pillow and sobbed. She’d barely recovered after Toby’s death and in that one phone call, what she’d learned about Nick had crushed any progress she’d made. How could she trust her own judgment after this? She’d thought he was a decent person. She’d opened up to him in a way she’d never done with anyone before, and he’d trampled all over her trust.

But also, there was the pain of falling for someone who didn’t return her feelings. There was no one to protect her heart.

Alone and broken, she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Five

When the sun peeked through the clouds the next day, Heather rolled over and groaned. She felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. Her whole body ached from stress, and her head pounded. She hadn’t experienced this since the weeks right after Toby’s death, and she recognized the sensation easily—it was the response to loss. But in this case, with Nick, how could she lose something she never really had?

She closed her stinging, puffy eyes and punched her pillow into shape, hoping the new, elevated position would ease the ache in her neck, but it didn’t. She was broken once again. But this was different from the last time because her ability to believe people was what was broken now. Doing this to someone who was already vulnerable, and at Christmas, was heartless. She couldn’t believe it. And here she’d been, making excuses for Nick’s silence, giving him the benefit of the doubt, and hoping he was the one sending love letters from Toby, while in reality, he couldn’t care less about her.

Her lip wobbled, and the ache in her chest built. Nick had wrecked her. And for what—a book? He was a nobody right now, but this book would certainly propel him to fame. His career was more important than a human heart. He was the absolute opposite of Toby. And she’d fallen for it.

After tossing and turning in bed, trying and failing to find sleep, she got up and wandered into the living room. Her things were still strewn about, the place a mess. She stepped over her suitcases and went into the kitchen. Her bags of groceries from the cabin were sitting on the floor. She stood in the middle of the room, unsure why she’d even come in. Her body was reacting to the habit of making coffee first thing, but she didn’t want any.

She needed to talk to her best friend—the one person she could trust. The other option was her mom, but it would take too long to explain it all to her, and she didn’t know if she could make it through the entire story. Also, Marion would know what to say. She got her phone off the kitchen counter and called her friend.

When Marion answered, Heather burst into tears, unable to control her emotions, and told her what she'd found out.

“What?” Marion’s voice screeched through the phone. “Oh my gosh, Heather. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know how to move forward,” she blubbered, empty. “Do I try to go to the publisher first? Do I go to Nick’s? I won’t be able to talk without breaking down.”

“Is this even legal? Let me go get Anthony. I’ll put you on speaker.”

Heather grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and wiped her tears as Marion regurgitated the situation to Anthony. “Could it be an invasion of privacy?” Heather asked.

“Well, yes and no. He can write an unauthorized biography. The First Amendment offers broad protection for writing factually about a public figure.”

More tears spilled over Heather’s lashes, blurring her vision. She pulled another tissue from the box.

“You could sue for defamation,” Anthony continued, “but only if false or damaging statements are published. Keep in mind, though, that a public figure would have to prove actual malice, and usually defamation and privacy claims don’t survive death, so with Toby not here to claim it, you might be out of luck.”

She balled up the tissue and wiped her nose. “Is there any way to bring him to justice for this? It seems so wrong, given how he coerced me into telling him things.”

“You could claim invasion of privacy if the author discloses private facts that aren’t legitimate public interest or if he obtained his information through illegal means.”

“Like lying?” she asked.

“Writing a biography based on facts obtained through deception isn’t considered an invasion of privacy in a legal sense. I think the legal issue would be the disclosure of private facts, but not the method of gathering the information.”

Heather sighed. “And we won’t know if he’s disclosed anything private until the book is out there.”

“I’ll keep thinking,” Anthony said. “Sorry you’re dealing with this. And if we can come up with a way to sue him, I’ll represent you free of charge.”

“That’s really thoughtful—thank you.” She was so glad to have Marion and Anthony on her side.

Marion turned the phone off speaker and came back on the line. “I feel terrible.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“But I told you Nick was exactly the kind of guy you should be talking to.”