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“So, we’ve slipped a little in our popularity—”
“A few sponsors have threatened to pull out if things don’t change soon.”
“We still have followers. In fact, more than ever.” She sighed.
“Don’t shrug this off as unimportant, Gi. Without the sponsors’ backing we could be in real trouble. Viewers aren’t tuning in like they once were.”
“You mean since the scandal?” Followers had lost confidence in her ability to give them relationship advice since she couldn’t see the red flags of her own.
“The numbers can drop for any reason.”
“Let’s try to stay positive.” She flicked through the clothing on the rack. Most of the selection had been donated by local boutiques that wanted publicity. Unfortunately, even that had slacked off as of late. Not that she needed the perk, but the idea that people had lost trust in her made her feel defeated. Finding a simple white blouse and black skirt, she decided on her favorite Jimmy Choo heels. “Listeners are going to love Chastity.”
“You do realize that Chef Malcolm has triple the followers than the book writer.”
“There’s more to this than followers. We’ve been here before, right? We’ve clawed our way back when ratings have dropped. You’re a miracle worker. You can find the hot guests and I’ll ask the hot questions.”
“Gianna, you know I’d do anything, but…”
“I know, Rock. What do you have in mind that I should do? Announce that I’m engaged to get married too?” She rolled her eyes. Fat chance.
“Well, that’d certainly cause a stir.”
“Wouldn’t people be a little curious about the legitimacy since I’m missing the most important thing? A fiancé.” She laughed but it fizzled because in all truth she would have been married by now had Sunny not cheated. “Now, if you want the show to be on time, scoot so I can get changed.”
His shoulders slumped some and he crossed to the door. “Show’s on in five minutes.”
Gianna dropped down into the chair and closed her eyes to gain her composure. When she opened them, her focus landed on the magazine laying on the floor. Emotion bubbled up inside of her, not because she still loved Sunny, but he’d betrayed her trust. He’d ruined a significant part of her that could never be vulnerable again. She’d never been a spiteful person, but a part of her…what? Wanted her ex to get a taste of his own medicine? To have his heart broken into smithereens too?
She looked up at the ceiling. “Grams and Gramps, if you can hear me up there, I could use some help down here. And, if by chance you have any influence in the love department, send me a tall, dark, handsome man who can be faithful.”
Laughing at her own ridiculousness, she gave the magazine the middle finger. She hoped he and Vivien had a happy life together. It wasn’t as if Gianna wanted another relationship right now. She was still becoming the woman she needed to be.
Dressing, she gave her reflection one last glance and paused when her cell phone vibrated from the vanity. She read the sender’s name. “Carter Dawson.”
Her heart pitched.
A smile turned her lips.
The cowboy had been her childhood best friend. When she’d moved out of Dove Grey the summer before her senior year, they’d lost touch, until she’d heard his brother, Cade, had passed away and she’d reached out through a text message. Over the last few years, they’d said “hello” here and there, but they were still worlds apart. She in Houston and Carter in a small town that wasn’t even a blip on a map some three hours away.
She’d wished him a “Happy Birthday” earlier when Aunt Gerti, who still lived in Dove Grey, reminded Gianna that Carter was turning thirty.
Starting to ignore the message, curiosity got the better of her.
Clicking on the text, she read…
“Remember this day fourteen years ago? We made a pact. If neither of us were married at thirty, we’d marry each other. Will you marry me? LOL.”
Her breath caught. He remembered, and so did she. Gianna was sixteen and she’d been devastated when her first love, Jamie Good, broke up with her for Serena Claytor. Gianna had cried on Carter’s shoulder, but in Dawson-fashion, he’d made her laugh until she forgot all about Jamie. One silly comment about how no boy would ever want to be with her had turned into him suggesting that they marry each other in the future. At sixteen, thirty years old seemed like forever away, so she’d agreed.
The pact wasn’t real, of course.
Yet, to her, the promise had always been hovering at the back of her thoughts.
Many times since she left town, the tall, lanky boy with bright blue eyes and reddish hair had crossed her mind. As kids, they’d been inseparable. They would play on Circle M or Dawson Creek Ranch until sunset, doing kid things like swinging, riding bikes and riding horses. Having picnics at the lake’s edge then swim for hours until their skin wrinkled like prunes. He loved baseball and she’d been right there with him, cheering him on at every game. His brothers too.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
