Page 127 of The Bridges I've Burned

Obviously, I was wrong.

How had Millie found out? What did she want? I was already being dragged down by the weight of one secret. I didn’t need any more.

My gut twisted as I quietly got out of bed, not wanting to wake Elena up. There was nothing I wanted more than to stay in that bed, but fear pushed me into action, and I hastily put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, grabbed my keys and wallet, and headed for the door.

I wanted to believe Millie had good intentions. But I also knew the prospect of fame and fortune could make even the best of people do terrible things.

Millie had sent me the name of the trendy clothing and accessory shop she owned along the main drag. I’d driven past it with Hendrix and recognized it from my childhood as the old Beachcombers.

It took only minutes to get there. Since it was still early, the parking lot was empty. I quickly parked and headed toward the door. I expected it to be locked, but with a little shove, it gave way with a perky ding, announcing my arrival.

It was a lot nicer than the Beachcombers I remembered—that was for sure. The clothing was a mixture of beach attire, ranging from bathing suits and sandals to more everyday stuff—dresses and shorts. There was everything from candles to jewelry and bath salts.

Elena would love this place.

I found Millie and Aiden standing behind the large wood counter. His arms were around her waist, sliding dangerously close to her denim-clad ass, and while they weren’t in a compromising position, I definitely felt the need to avert my eyes.

Millie let out a laugh before she turned. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

“Well, you beckoned,” I deadpanned, making Aiden cough under his breath. He moved down the counter and began sorting a box of small, carved ornaments, placing them on a display.

I guess he’s staying then…

Millie leaned over the counter, staring at me with an appraising look.

I folded my arms across my chest and just stared back. “So, you know?”

A smug grin spread across her face. “I’ve known for a while.”

I blanched. “How long is a while?”

“Day after the engagement dinner.” She shrugged as she began folding a large stack of shirts. “Saw it online. Some of us on this island actually do pay attention to shit like that.”

“You mean celebrity gossip?”

She shrugged again. “I was pretty damn stunned when I saw it. I’d just seen you at the engagement dinner, and then the very next day, your face was on my favorite gossip blog.”

“A gossip blog, love? Really?” Aiden chimed in.

“Hey, don’t judge me.” She looked over at her husband. “Not all of us are into nonfiction and art magazines.”

“But your descriptions of the art are just so…” His mouth quirked, making her roll her eyes.

She turned back to me, her blonde hair swishing behind her shoulder. “He likes to listen to audiobooks, but magazines are tricky ’cause he can’t see the pictures, so he makes me read the articles and then try and describe the photos,” she explained. “He still won’t let me forget the sculpture I said looked like a turtle.”

“No,” he argued, an amused expression painting his face. “You said it looked like a giant turtle with a dildo stuck up its arse.”

She snorted. “Same thing.”

I double-blinked.

Why am I here?

“Anyway, I didn’t say anything at the coffee shop that day because I thought maybe you and Macon were both playing dumb for my benefit—which I’d understand,” she explained with a wave of her hand. “But yesterday at the bachelorette party, it became abundantly clear that you hadn’t told anyone because Elena doesn’t seem to have a clue. No one is that good of an actor.”

I grimaced.

“I can’t tell them.” The words rushed out of my mouth. “I signed an NDA.”

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