Page 95 of Forever Wild

After Bryn tells the whole story, the sisters stare at her in amazement.

“That is…wild,” Kelsey says, shaking her head.

Lila looks at me. “So what are you going to do about Alexis and Kyle? Because I’ve got a plan for Alexis. I’ve been thinking about it for years. I think the first step is to trash her in the media, make her essentially toxic. That will cause her to lose all the public figures she’s fucking.” She continues, clearly mistakenly taking everyone’s stunned silence as a good thing, “Then I need to figure out some way to fuck with her appearance. Maybe pay her hairstylist to, like, buzz her head or convince her to eat an extra thousand calories a day. Then, once we destroy those two things, all that’s left is—”

Bryn bursts out laughing at that point, and Lila stops talking long enough to notice that the other two women have looks ranging from shock to horror on their faces.

“Well,” I offer. “I think it could work.”

Bryn laughs. “First of all, this isn’t Mean Girls. You’re not going to trick Alexis into eating an extra thousand calories a day, you fucking psycho. Second, I think we should consider just letting her wallow in her self-hatred.”

“Ugh.” Lila sighs. “That sounds so boring.”

“She’s clearly a miserable human being who hates herself so much that she not only can’t stand other people being happy, but she actively self-sabotages her own happiness. You’re never going to ‘punish’ that out of her. She’s already punishing herself every day. Why else would anyone ever cheat on Jameson?” Bryn asks. “Plus, I think she might’ve actually believed what she said in the article, and if that’s the case, I just feel...bad for her.”

Bryn’s sisters both nod their consent as well.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I do think Lila is onto something here. I think we need to do something to Kyle and Alexis. No one should be able to pull that shit on us and get away with it. I’m not sure I’m in for Lila’s plan, but we’ve got to do something.”

“You do not,” says Kelsey. “You and Bryn staying together is a bigger ‘fuck you’ to Alexis than anything else you could ever do. And Kyle and, frankly, all of Hungry Guy are going to realize they lost as soon as the news breaks about Bryn getting hired by Conrad.” She thinks for a moment. “I do have some thoughts—hypothetical, of course—about how you could fuck with their social media accounts should you ever decide the high road is not the way you want to go.”

“Kelsey!” Bryn exclaims, but Izzy just leans across the table to give Kelsey a high five, which she returns begrudgingly.

I think about what Bryn said, about Alexis being the one with issues, not us. Of how much I love Bryn and the joy that I have found because Alexis cheated on me. I think about how much stronger Bryn and I are going to be now that we know we can make it through this, because it certainly won’t be the last gossip that is published about me. And I realize that I don’t need revenge. I don’t need to make Alexis or Kyle pay in order to move on. Because in the arms of the woman I love, I have found my redemption, my salvation, my home.

“Fine.” I grab Bryn’s hand, rubbing my thumb across hers as I absorb her calm.

“But, shit,” I say, looking at Kelsey. “I have a bad feeling about you and Lila working together.” And, terrifyingly, all four of them laugh.

Chapter forty-nine

Epilogue

Bryn

1 year later

I’m standing at the edge of the eighteenth green at Augusta, holding my breath as Jameson’s group hits their approach shots. I’m standing next to Izzy and Kelsey, all of us in sundresses with our hair pulled back. Jameson is tied coming into this last hole at the Masters, the Super Bowl of the pro golf world, and the tension in the stands is palpable. It all comes down to this hole—a Masters fan’s dream come true.

Izzy is keeping up a steady stream of chatter which she is all but whispering into my ear. “I can’t believe you and Jameson finally moved in together. I mean, I thought you would have moved in like a year ago, but at the same time, I understand not wanting to move into a cottage on the course with him. Not that you didn’t basically live there when you guys were in town, but still! And then the freakin’ builders are taking so long to finish everything. I can’t believe how long building a new house takes in the middle of nowhere.”

She has a point. It has taken forever for our house to get built. When Jameson announced last summer that he was going to build us a house in Wild Bluffs, I initially balked. It’s not that I didn’t want to move in with him, it’s just that I wanted to be an equal partner in it. After explaining that to Jameson, we worked out a deal. Instead of him financing the house himself, we went through the local bank to get a loan, one that includes both of us. It took some finagling, but I was even able to come up with half of the down payment.

As much as Jameson loves spoiling me, I think it feels better to both of us that the house is truly ours. We’ve both been heavily involved in each step of the process. As hard as it is to coordinate, we both joined the meetings with the architect and interior designer, constantly reassuring each other that, as painful as this process might be, it will all be worth it when it’s our home. And, if we were going to go through the pain of building it, we should at least make it something that we both want to grow old in.

We are set to move into the sprawling house on the edge of hole two at Wild Bluffs Country Club in six months. It can’t get here soon enough.

“Becca hasn’t returned his call. Can you imagine not calling a man like him back?” Izzy is still rambling as Jameson crests the top of the green, chatting with his caddy, a look of ease on his face despite the pressure of the situation.

Jameson has played so well in the last year after all of the nonsense with Alexis, Kyle, and the article, that we know there is a good chance he will take home the Green Jacket today. I’ve been in PR training the last year, and Jameson and I have slowly become more and more public with our relationship based on the guidance of Erica and her team. We still are careful about doing anything that might even hint at scandal, but it has been such a relief to be able to be seen together at his tournaments.

After the article about me last year, I was worried about stoking the fire by doing anything too “couply” when there was the possibility of press nearby. Jameson was, as I’ve come to expect, completely understanding of my unease, though it was hard for both of us to limit our interactions, especially when Jameson had a particularly good or bad round. A year later, Jameson has done a world of good for my self-esteem. I occasionally still hear Tara’s or Peter’s or his mom’s voice telling me I can’t do it all, but now Jameson’s voice follows it, telling me I’m everything he’s ever wanted.

To be fair, we are also old news now, so no one cares enough to publish an article about us if I give him a hug after a round.

Jameson lines up his shot, and, as he waits for his opponent to putt, his eyes find me in the crowd. I give him an inconspicuous wave and wink, and he unsuccessfully tries to hide his smile before turning his attention back to his putt.

The other golfer’s putt leaves him about two feet from the hole, an almost guaranteed make. I grab Izzy’s hand, forcing my eyes to stay open instead of closing under the pressure of this shot that Jameson has to make to win. I watch him step up to the ball, his black shirt pulling just right across the thick muscles of his chest and arms, and send it toward the hole.

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