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x. Twice. It wasn’t that Libby was stalling exactly; it was that she didn’t want to come down from the high. She was stalling.
Reagan scooted over to her on the bed until their legs were touching. “Do you really think it’s better to wait until tomorrow? You might have a bunch calls and stu coming
into the o ce. It might be better to at least know what you’re dealing with so you’re not ambushed.”
“What if it’s cataclysmic and these are my last hours of happiness?” Libby countered, trying her hardest not to whine.
“You think your happiness is tied to the outcome of your business?”
Libby shook her head. If she really believed that she wouldn’t have confessed her sins in the first place.
“Listen, I think if it was really horrendous, someone would’ve called me, right? And all my friends had to say was that we owe them dinner and the real story of our love a air.
And my parents thought it would make a great Hallmark movie.” Reagan’s tone was optimistic, but it wasn’t enough to soothe her fears.
“Yeah, but your friends and family are kind people.
Internet trolls aren’t exactly reasonable. And I can’t buy them all dinner.” Libby pressed down on her churning stomach. She shouldn’t have inhaled the smoked salmon pu s.
Reagan put her arm around her shoulders. “You’ve already done all the hard parts. The truth is out there and all you have to do is ride the wave.”
Libby picked up her phone and stared at her reflection in the black glass. “You make it sound so easy.”
“No matter what’s on the other end of that phone, you’re not alone. Not only do you have me, but you have your whole family’s support. There’s nothing you can’t take on with that.”
Dropping her head onto Reagan’s shoulder, Libby closed her eyes and hit the power button. “How bad is it?” she asked after a minute, unable to look for herself.
“Well . . . someone named Zena has left a dozen voicemails. Taylor has left a bunch too.” The phone dinged.
“A lot of messages are coming in. You’re probably gonna have to look at this.”
Libby sighed. “Any chance I can get a glass of wine to make the medicine go down?”
Reagan kissed her cheek. “You got it.”
Once alone, Libby centered herself and then braced for impact. She started with the easiest task and texted Zena.
Libby: I’m sorry I lied to you, Z. Can we video chat tomorrow? I know you must have a million questions.
Zena: My main question is ARE YOU OKAY?
Libby: I don’t know yet . . . but I think I will be.
Zena: I couldn’t believe everything you said in your video!!
Maybe it’s not the right time, but I’m so relieved knowing you’re human and suck at love like the rest of us mortals.
After scheduling a video date, Libby moved on to what would undoubtedly contain the worst reactions. The YouTube comments she’d forgotten to disable.
Reagan returned with a bottle and two glasses. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, you know, I’ve been called a fraud, a fake, a drama queen, and those are the nicest terms being thrown around.
Plus, I’ve lost several thousand subscribers already, though I suspect that’s only the beginning, and some ad sponsors are gone.”
“Why the hell are you reading the comments?” Reagan snatched the phone and closed the window.
“Because then I don’t have to read the message from Taylor listing the clients that have already dropped me.” She took a gulp of red wine.
