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Steph blinks at me. “Khloe, you’ve gone white.”
“What was written about him? Oh, Steph, please tell me it’s nothing bad. He’s a good guy. Yeah, okay, he was a jerk who accused me of some nasty things, but I can see how it all looked to him. He doesn’t deserve any of this.”
“A jerk, huh?” The familiar voice comes from behind, and I gasp as I spin around and nearly sink to the floor. My gaze rakes over Will, who is dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, looking as handsome as he did the first day I met him on the plane.
“Will, I didn’t—”
“You’re right, though. I don’t deserve any of this,” he says.
I point to the paper that Steph is riffling through. “I...I don’t know...anything about it.” Wait, why is Steph so calm, flipping pages without even acknowledging Will or my burst of panic. What is going on?
“Will, it’s not what you think.”
“You keep saying that to me, and I have to stop you because you need to know what I do think. But before I say anything, you should read the article.”
Steph’s grin is wider than I’ve ever seen it when she folds the paper and hands it to me. My eyes go big when I skim the article—my article. Oh no, these are my words.
“Will,” I croak out. “I never meant for anyone to see this. I have no idea how my journal ended up in the wrong hands, but—”
“What I think is that I’m the world’s biggest idiot.” Feet shuffle behind him, and before I know it, there are numerous people lined up watching us—including James. I recognize Tate, Summer, Brianna, Luca, Alec and Megan from the tabloids. What the heck is this, a Carson family reunion?
“What...what’s going on?”
Will laughs. “Family. They don’t know when to mind their own business.”
I grip the edge of the bookshelf, the room closing in on me. “Will—”
“I don’t agree with my granddad’s meddling, and for the record, Summer was the one responsible for the French maid outfits.” I glance past him to see a pretty woman with long strands of honey-blond hair piled on the top of her head. She gives me a small wave and coy smile. “But how can I be mad?”
“Mad? What? The article... I didn’t...”
Will steps up to me and takes my shaky hands in his. And the second he touches me, tears fill my eyes. I blink through the haze, take in his handsome face, the way he’s looking at me with pure adoration.
“I know you’re an independent woman who likes to do everything herself, and that’s one of the things I admire most about you.”
“Thank...you. But... I just can’t understand—”
“I submitted the article, Khloe.”
My jaw drops, and filling my lungs with air becomes an impossible task. “No, you’re a private guy.” I shake my head hard. “You don’t want anyone knowing anything about you.”
“But your dream was to write for the New Yorker. Granddad told me.”
As understanding dawns, tears spill from my eyes. “Wait, you...you did this for me? You put yourself out there, let the world know your private life...for me?”
“Of course.”
But Naomi. After he accused me of trying to sabotage him, I’d run back to the patio to fight for him, to tell him how wrong he was about me, but he’d been on the phone with Naomi. He’d called her the second he sent me packing. So why is he doing this? Maybe because I told him the truth, and he wanted to do something nice to thank me? Maybe that’s all that’s going on here.
“Naomi,” I begin quietly. “Did you get back what you had with her?”
“I’ll never get back what I had with Naomi.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t want that.”
“You don’t?”
