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“Your office then,” he urges.
“Just say whatever you need to say, Eli. I can take it. I’m a big girl.” Squaring my shoulders, I stand to my full height, lift my chin, and stare him straight in the eyes.
He opens his mouth to speak at the same moment my phone buzzes in my pocket again. I hold up my finger, pull my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, and unlock my screen.
Fifty-six missed text messages.
All from Hayden and Austin.
My hands begin to shake as I open our group text, afraid of what I’m about to read. I send up a silent prayer that my friends are okay. That nothing major has happened to either one of them. That they’re both just bored this morning or fighting with each other.
No such luck.
After reading only the last few messages, it’s clear they are perfectly fine. It’s me that has the problem.
HAYDEN: It’s not that bad.
AUSTIN: Please talk to us. I know you’re freaking out.
HAYDEN: It’s only one magazine, Tay.
AUSTIN: Two, but who’s counting? Plus, they’re saying nice things.
AUSTIN: You look gorgeous if that’s any consolation.
HAYDEN: They didn’t even link you to your mother. They don’t know your name.
AUSTIN: She has a point. You’re a mystery woman, nothing more.
HAYDEN: That’s the only reason it’s even front-page news. Because no one knows who you are.
HAYDEN: Try not to freak out.
AUSTIN: Answer us please.
HAYDEN: I’m on the next flight if you need me.
AUSTIN: Me too.
My hands shake as I type out the only response I can formulate at the moment.
ME: Haven’t seen it. Just found out. I’ll call you later.
“Taylor,” Eli says, closing the distance between us. I’m still staring at the messages on my phone, afraid to scroll up to see what else they had to say, when his hands land on my hips. “Talk to me.”
“I wanna see it.” The screen of my phone goes black, yet I continue to stare at it, willing the situation to fade to away like my friends’ words just have.
“Does it really matter what it says?”
“This is everything I was trying to avoid. Yet here we are. Not even a month into whatever this is, only days after we decided to be together officially, and my face is splashed across the cover of a gossip rag. Yes, Eli, it does matter. It matters to me.” Looking up, I find his pale blue eyes pleading with me to change my mind.
I can’t.
I need to see the picture. To read the column. I want to know what speculation is out there. How much they know. Most importantly, I want to get an idea of who the source is.
After leading the way to my office, I take a seat behind my desk, Eli sitting across from me, and power up my laptop. He rattles off the name of the magazine as if on auto pilot when I ask for it. The second the website loads, my mouth drops open.
There’s a picture of us standing in the ocean. We’re in the Bahamas. My back is to the camera so you can’t see my face, but you can clearly see Eli’s, as he’s leaning in.
