Page 33 of When I Had You

“Marina,” my mom asks, “why did you call your brother so late?”

“Why did you go out at all?” Loch barges back onto the call with a sigh. “You’re in the spotlight now. You’re a celebrity. Anything could have happened to you, Marina.”

I thought he was angry, but beneath that emotion lies the real one—worry.

“I didn’t think it through. I just wanted to have fun.” I hate sounding so careless or oblivious to the dangers my family sometimes faces. But what can I really tell them? I wanted to escape my life for a night, not to think about the impending humiliation I’m facing. I can’t. That’s a conversation I’m not ready to have with them. Although hearing the concern straining my oldest brother’s voice has me reconsidering.

Just thinking about Corbin cheating because he didn’t love me, he didn’t want me, but worse, he wasn’t attracted to me . . . my eyes water, but I refuse to let any tears fall over him. Hoping this is enough for us to move on, I reply, “I’m sorry. It was dumb. I’ll do whatever you need me to so I can make this right for you.”

“It’s not about making it right for us,” my dad says.

“Are you okay?” Harbor asks me.

“I left the club as soon—”

“We’ll get to the play-by-play,” Noah interjects. “Are you okay, Sis?”

The collective silence on the other end has me getting up and pacing. I take a deep breath and stop to stare at the Vancouver skyline. Their concern ripples through the conversation, and I don’t want to worry them more than necessary. “I’m fine. All good.”

A shushed balk from behind me has me turning back. Poppy stands with her arms crossed over her chest and whispers, “Tell them about Corbin.”

Covering the phone, I whisper, “I’m not adding more stress to the situation.”

“They already think the worst because they don’t know the truth.”

The betrayal I feel streams through my veins as I stare at her in disbelief. Apparently, this is the line in the sand for her, my dating life, where she’s taking a stand against me but on my behalf. Go figure.

I hate that Cash has been put in this fishbowl because of me, but now is not the time to drag Corbin’s sins into this. I sit by the phone again and say, “The paparazzi were waiting for me like vultures who found their dinner.”

“They got paid anyway,” Poppy adds.

I cringe, glancing up at her. I think this might go smoother without the added commentary. I know she means well, so I just continue, “I hid in the bathroom and called you, but when you didn’t answer, I didn’t know what to do.”

“How did Cash get involved?” Harbor asks.

“I called Liv, but she couldn’t leave because the kids were sleeping.”

“So you asked for our driver’s number? There was no one else?” he says with a heavy sigh. “No one else you could have called to help you? Like me, for instance, your parents, Loch, and not the driver of a fifteen-million-dollar car with millions more than that on the line depending on how he performs today?”

“Well . . .” My throat dries, but I try to swallow. “When you put it like that. I had just enough drinks to think it was a good idea at the time.” Shamefully, I look down and close my eyes. “I know it wasn’t. I’m sorry for getting him involved.”

Do I tell them that I was planning to only text him? That when I asked for the number, it wasn’t my intention to plead for help? Time was a ticking bomb in that bathroom when panic set in as if having me under fire would be a victory for Corbin’s team. I called the number because I knew Cash would help me.

Lauren should have never planted that seed. Nothing good has come of a plan I had no business being a part of. It’s not like her to make missteps like this, but it’s not like me either. And me repeatedly saying I wasn’t thinking is just no excuse.

“She was right for helping you,” Noah says of his wife. “We were just blindsided by the news this morning. I have more fires to put out, so I need to go. We’ve all been hit hard with this story today.”

“I’m sorry.” I’m out of justifications because I never had a good one to begin with. Maybe it wasn’t a fear of being asked about the cheating. Maybe subconsciously I sabotaged myself as well as Cash.

Cash . . .

I feel awful for the damage I’ve caused him.

Harbor says, “Don’t talk to the press. Have you spoken with Cash today?”

“No.” I’m not sure if I should ask or if it will make things worse, but I do worry. “Is he okay?”

I’m met with silence before someone clears their throat. “He was . . .” Loch. “Upset this morning. But he’s also a professional who performs under pressure every time he’s on the track. Today will be no different. He needs to stay out of his head and focus. That easy.”

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