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My stomach flips, as Jane points the remote at one of the TVs. Now all the screens around the room are playing the same news segment. One that shows a video of Davis’s handsome face from a distance as he jubilantly exits the police station with his joyous brothers by his side.
“We have breaking news about one of Honey Hill’s mayoral candidates,” one news anchor says, before tossing it to her partner.
“That’s right, Liz. We just got word that Chief Deputy Sheriff Davis Westbrook has entered the race to run for mayor. But that’s not the biggest breaking story about Mr. Westbrook at this time.”
Oh god.
The woman glances down at the notes in her hand before the screen quickly flips to a shot of Davis and me grinning oafishly in our wedding photo.
“We’ve just received reports that Westbrook has allegedly rekindled his relationship with his former wife, Alana Haywood.” A grainy photo of Davis and me kissing at the bar the other night shows up on the screen. “This news is particularly concerning given that details of Haywood’s criminal past are now coming to light.”
I hear Davis’s sharp intake of breath as my mugshot appears on the TV screen in all its hi-definition glory.
Davis’s head snaps toward me and my stomach drops to the floor.
Murmurs go up in the crowd as eyes dart around searching for me. But I don’t care what those people think of me. The only opinion I care about is Davis’s.
And the shock in his eyes as he stares at me is an expression I never wanted to see on his face.
It’s my worst nightmare playing out in real life.
Sometimes, you left me wondering if I knew you at all.
The news reporter goes on. “Sources familiar with the situation confirm that Haywood, who is a well-liked veterinarian here in town, was apprehended by police four years ago for shoplifting at a local gas station convenience store. We’re still working to confirm whether charges were pressed in relation to the incident. We have not yet been able to reach the chief deputy sheriff for comment at this time.”
Fuck! My stomach rolls.Everything around me turns to a buzzing white noise.
My biggest fears have become reality. My darkest secrets have been spilled.
I can barely see straight as I launch myself out of the booth and rush out of the bar’s back door. The rain is coming down hard now.And the only thing I can hear in my head is, it’s too late.
It’s too late.
It’s too late.
It’s too late.
Hunching over, I brace my stomach. I keep shaking my head. I think I’m about to be sick.
I just can’t believe this is happening. Everything that Davis worked so hard for is about to circle the drain. And it’s my fault.
* * *
I burstthrough the front door and stumble down the darkened hallway, searching blindly for the kitchen sink.
The claws of fear wrap themselves around my windpipe and I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t see.
What the hell have I just done?
I just fucked my life—that’s what.
Collapsing against the laminate counter, I hunch over the stainless steel basin and I puke up the contents of my stomach. I rinse my face then grab a fistful of tissues to blot the wetness away.
The events of the last two hours whirr in my brain. Was this all just a really bad dream?
At this point, I just hope it was a really bad dream.
I’m going crazy.
