Reservation (Preservation Series) (22 page)

“Of course,” Dean said.

Kate turned for the bedroom without another word.

“
Pssstt
.” Dean nodded his head, gesturing for me to come closer. I strode forward, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my lack of apparel. “What’s going on?”

“She’s upset with me...about Carter. Long story. Is everything in place for the shower?”

“Yup, the restaurant’s ready for us. She doesn’t look like she’s in the mood for a surprise party, though.”

“It’s my fault. I fucked up again. But I won’t let it ruin her shower. Let’s just get her there and put a smile on her face. I’m sure she’ll love everything you guys put together.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Crystal peeked at the bedroom door and quickly pulled something from her bag. Handing me a gossip magazine, she let out a nervous whisper. “Ryan, we saw this yesterday when we were out dress shopping with Kate. There wasn’t a good time to bring it up yesterday, but we thought you should see it before she did. I don’t think she knows yet.”

My breath seized up when I saw the cover—a picture of Kate and her late mother. The headline read “Campbell’s Fiancée Wrapped Up in Addiction”, the subheading reading “Kate Parker’s Dirty Little Secret.” I flipped open the magazine and frantically skimmed through the pages, finding a whole story on Kate and her mother’s past, implying that Kate was an addict just like her mother. Pictures were edited and arranged in a horrendous display of accusation, clearly showcasing Kate in the worst possible light.

“This is bullshit,” I mumbled, my blood rushing to my head. It thumped fiercely in my ears. “This isn’t a good time to bring it up, either. Shit, right before we take her to her shower?”

“There won’t ever be a good time,” Dean said, stepping in front of Crystal, “but it’s better if you break the news to her instead of letting her stumble across it herself, Ry. You can calm her down, be there to cushion the blow. This will kill her. She should hear it from you.”

Crystal nodded in agreement. “We’ve been talking on the phone a lot, since she’s been living in St. Lucia. She told me a lot about the stuff with her mom. It’s a deep wound for her. These assholes are striking her where it hurts.”

I studied the pictures, trying to make sense of it all. “Why would they do this to her? Damn it, why her?”

Dean shrugged, an angry breath whooshing from his lips. “Another way of prying into your personal life, I guess.”

“She can’t see this.” I rolled up the magazine and stuffed it back into Crystal’s bag. “Not until later. I’ll talk to her then, before she flies back tonight.”

“Talk to me about what?” Kate’s voice came from behind me and I froze, feeling her move to stand by my side. Dean and Crystal tensed, their eyes widening when Kate reached forward to snatch the magazine from Crystal’s purse.

10. PATTERNS

“Kate.” I stepped forward. Crystal and Dean opened their mouths to object with me, but it was too late. She focused on the cover and scanned the headline as her expression turned blank. Her emotionless eyes studied the picture of herself and her mother for what felt like hours. She didn’t flip through the pages, didn’t move, just stared in silence. “I’m sorry, Kate. I wanted to wait until later to talk to you about this.”

A look of resolve flashed over her features, and she rolled the magazine up and stuck it back into Crystal’s bag. “No. There’s nothing to talk about. We can’t prevent what they say about me. We knew this was coming, so let’s drop it. You guys ready?” She moved to grab her coat, then opened the front door, her face still indifferent.

“Uh...” Crystal pivoted around, hesitating.

Dean took her hand. “Sure. Let’s go.” He shot me a quick look and led Crystal out the front door.

Kate eyed my half-naked state before stepping out to follow them. “You want to meet us down there when you’re ready?”

I held her stare, willing her to talk to me, but her distant eyes and thinned lips told me she was resolute. “Sure. I missed my alarm clock, sorry. I’ll shower and meet you guys there.”

“Okay. See you then.” She quietly shut the door behind her and I raced into the bathroom for a quick shower and fresh change of clothes.

As I locked up behind me and made my way down to the Light Rail, I mentally cursed the photographers who followed my every move, wondering how to navigate this thing. Kate was right. We knew this would happen eventually, and there wasn’t anything we could do. That didn’t change the nagging feeling in my chest, though. It didn’t detract from the fierce rush of protectiveness that surged over me, urging me to stop these media bastards from ripping Kate’s life apart and putting it on display for all the public to see. It was one thing for them to attack me, but another to watch them go after her.

Yet another tough pill I’d have to swallow in exchange for this new life of mine.

The bridal shower was thankfully a success despite the paparazzi waiting outside to catch shots of me entering and exiting. It seemed they’d followed me from the Light Rail. I would’ve taken the car, but I didn’t want to be late because of parking. It was hosted at our favorite seafood restaurant on the pier downtown and was a small, intimate affair, with only our closest friends and a few of Kate’s former coworkers from the literacy center in attendance. I watched as Kate opened presents, took pictures, played games, and gave everyone warm smiles and thanks. But I could see right through her front. She was going through the motions, expressing genuine surprise and making a point to thank everyone for coming, but her smiles never reached her eyes, never brought out those blissful little creases at the corners. Her interactions, although friendly, were robotic. Stiff, as if she’d rehearsed for the event and now it was time to deliver her lines.

When the party wrapped and we boarded the Light Rail to head home, I hoisted her bags of presents onto my lap and watched as she took in the sights out the windows, her chocolate irises flickering against the late afternoon sunlight. I let her sit in silence, finally speaking up when we got home. She went straight to the bedroom and began packing up her suitcase for her flight.

“You never told me how things went with Bob,” I said. “How did the meeting go?” We’d been running all weekend since she came to town. I’d almost completely forgotten.

“Good, thanks.” She gave me a sad smile, shoving some t-shirts into the suitcase. “He’s trying to coordinate with Neda to see if my launch tour can be scheduled right alongside yours. They’re waiting to see if there’s any chance at speeding up publication. We’ll see.”

“That would be perfect. So, is Neda taking you on as well? Are you considering signing with her?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“That’s great news.”

I moved from the doorway into the bedroom, scanning each piece of clothing as she slipped it into the case, waiting for the right time to broach the subject. I couldn’t let her get on that plane and head home without talking to me about it all. There was also the Carter subject to discuss, but she didn’t seem very willing to talk about that, either. “Look, Kate—”

“Please don’t, Ry. Don’t pity me, okay? I appreciate that you care, but I don’t have anything to say.”

“Don’t do this,” I said, stepping in front of her to block her from packing. “Don’t push me out. I know you’re upset. You can talk to me about it.”

“I know I can, thank you. But I don’t have anything to say. It is what it is, and I have to deal with it.”

“I can talk to Danny, my publicist. Maybe there’s something he can do. You know, to keep it from getting worse.”

“Danny is your publicist, Ry. Not mine.”

As much as I had reservations about Danny’s business practices after the stunt he pulled with Melanie at Henson’s party, there was no denying he was good at his job. Maybe he could turn things around for Kate. “You’re already working with Bob and Neda, there’s no reason we can’t hire Danny to work with you, too. They were probably going to assign him as your publicist soon, anyway. Maybe he can help you with this. He can’t stop what’s already been said or prevent the next flare up, I know, but it might help to have someone on your side.”

“Maybe. I appreciate the thought, Ry. But I’m not interested in making this thing bigger than it already is. I’m hoping this will blow over and that in a few days, these people will just forget my name.”

“You know that won’t happen. The rumor’s been confirmed that we’re engaged, and when your book releases, you’ll be back in the spotlight again. You can’t run from this. It’s worth seeing if we can arrange some damage control.”

She stepped around me and resumed packing. “Maybe.”

“And this thing about Carter...”

“What about it?” She stilled, her hands hovering over a pile of neatly folded clothing.

“You have to believe me when I say that he had his mind made up. I
did
ask him if he’d considered all that he’d be leaving behind if he went to Florida. Truth be told...”

“Yes?”

“I knew you’d be angry with me for encouraging him to go, but I did it anyway. Doesn’t that tell you something? I only encouraged him because I understood him. I felt sorry for the guy and I could tell he really wanted this. So instead of trying to talk him down or give him a million reasons why he should stay, I told him what he needed to hear. He needed the vote of confidence, not a guilt trip.”

“I wasn’t asking you to give him a guilt trip.” Her voice went cold. Quiet. “I asked you to try to convince him to stay. You don’t think I considered that might come across as selfish? Hypocritical? I know I packed up and left for the West Indies regardless of what he wanted me to do. Don’t you think I want my best friend to be happy? But this isn’t Carter. This is a phase. It’s impulsive and it’s only going to hurt him, and yeah, it’ll hurt me and Dean, too. I wanted you to try and be a voice of reason, that’s all.”

“Maybe he has his own voice of reason. Maybe it’s what he really wants, have you or Dean considered that?” I shifted to look at her, placing a hand over hers. She still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I think you’re afraid.”

“Of course I’m afraid,” she seethed, eyes finally lifting to mine. “I told you I don’t want to lose him.”

“You haven’t lost him. He lost
you
. Might be time to let him move on.” I released her hand and left the bedroom, the sounds of her soft sobs following me out into the living room.

***

I thought it impossible, but the next few weeks were even more hectic, full of TV appearances and interview after interview. My teaching job at the university seemed a distant dream now, as if I’d never even been there. Kate and I decided on a June wedding, and had made all of the arrangements for the ceremony and reception, booking the same seafood restaurant that hosted her bridal party for the special day. The occasion would be low-key and comfortable, just as we’d wanted, with a week-long honeymoon to London directly after. We’d be back just in the nick of time for my tour to begin, and would hopefully be able to move into our new place by then, too. We’d decided on the small cabin on Orcas Island. In between signing paperwork for the new house, handling last-minute wedding arrangements, and juggling the celebrity life, I didn’t have time for much else. Downtime was pretty much nonexistent, and I hadn’t seen Carter, Dean, or Sam since the weekend Kate was in town.

Kate and I didn’t talk about much else, either, our phone calls always consisting of our latest career developments or plans for the wedding. The outward chaos that was initially only splashed on covers of tabloids and buzzing on the news made its way inward, seeping into our private lives, putting us both on edge. Our phone calls were short, and the tone of Kate’s voice was hollow, as if she were drifting further and further away from me. Her responses were detached, her enthusiasm dwindling more and more with each phone conversation. I didn’t know what to do. Hell, there wasn’t much I
could
do, except stay the course and focus on getting to June in one piece.

“Hello, Earth to Ryan?” Danny called, snapping his fingers in front of me. We were having dinner at Chez Danyele so he could brief me on the next big event, some gala for Simon and Warden I was supposed to attend the next night.

“Yeah, yeah I’m listening.”

“You’re miles away.”

“Have a lot on my mind.”

“Anything to do with Amy Mercer?”

“What?” I set my water glass down, offended. “No, why would I be thinking about Amy Mercer?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he waved his hands around casually, “maybe because you still refuse to give me details about your relationship and she’s finally gone to the press.”

I set my elbows on the table with exasperation and sighed, massaging a temple with my fingers. “What are you talking about? When? What has she said?”

“I thought you knew. Don’t you pay attention to the news?”

“No, Danny, the last thing I do anymore is watch the fucking news. Tell me what happened.”

“Cool your jets, Ryan. She hasn’t dropped any juicy details yet, but she’s starting to talk. Mentioned you two were an item, but not exclusive, whatever the hell that means. We need to make a statement before she becomes more...vocal.”

“I’m not saying a damn thing to the press about Amy Mercer. I won’t give her the attention or the media the time of day. It’ll just give them the ammo they want. Forget it.”