Page 29 of Rushing Into Love

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Buzz,buzz. Buzz, buzz.

Argh. What was that noise? Opening my eyes, I glanced at the clock. Eight AM on Sunday morning. What now?

I rolled over, unplugging my phone from the charger. It was a text from Ally:

You aren’t going to like this.

She’d sent a link to an article. I sat up on my elbows, a sick feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. If Ally was texting me at 5 AM Pacific time, something was definitely up and it obviously wasn’t good.

Holding my breath, I clicked the link.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no! My heart sunk and a wave of nausea rolled over me, churning my empty stomach. Cheeks burning, I read the headline:

Dating Expert Leveling Up: Cheating on Superstar Pax Jones with Former NFL Pro Ryder McCauliffe

Next were the pictures: Grainy shots of Ryder and me holding hands, then a photo of us kissing in the park. How did anyone get those shots? A cold shiver tiptoed down my spine. Someone clearly followed us around Peachtree Grove all morning without either of us even knowing. I was officially freaked out.

Then I read the ‘article,’ which basically consisted of a few lines detailing my name, profession, and the two boyfriends I supposedly had. If I wasn’t so pissed off right now, I’d definitely be wondering about the credibility of the entire ‘Lifestyle’ section of theLA Gazette. The fact checker seriously needed a new gig.

I especially liked howIwas getting skewered when Pax was flaunting his extracurricular activities on Instagram and who knows what other social media outlets. How was that fair? Total double standard.

And how did theLA Gazetteeven get wind of all of this? Was Pax really so petty that he’d leak this to the papers to try to cover up the fact that he’d been dumped? We could have kept all of this private, but now it was splashed in the paper and online and who knew where else.

I needed to do damage control, stat. Or my career as a relationship expert would be over, forget about “Top 30 Under 30” or “Podcast of the Year.” And Ryder was going to be seriously angry.

My first call was to Ally.

“Ally, how did this happen?” I moaned, resisting the urge to curl into the fetal position.

“Girl, I don’t know, but we better come up with a good way to spin this ASAP,” she said. “Andareyou dating Ryder McCauliffe?” Her voice rose two octaves on the question.

“Yes, I guess. It just happened, like two minutes ago. Well, I was, before this. But now—who knows? And how can I possibly spin this?” I paced the bedroom floor. Brooks might need new carpet before I left.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Unless—”

“Unless what?” I asked, hesitantly.

“What if you got in touch with Layla?”

“What?” I asked, shrieking. “Why? Are you crazy? I’m not even dating Pax anymore!”

“I know. Maybe the new angle could be dating Ryder,” she said.

“No. No way, Ally. It’s a brand-new relationship. If you can even call it that. I mean, we’ve gone on zero official dates. I don’t really see him going for that.”

Ryder was uber-private. And he was going to be uber-pissed about this. I did not see him giving his blessing to a TV interview.

“Just a thought,” Ally said. “You’re done with Pax, though, right? I got your text about taking his key back.”

“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “Definitely over. Especially after this little stunt.”

“So you think he did this?”

“It’s definitely crossed my mind. If it wasn’t him, I don’t know who else it could have been.”

“For what it’s worth, Bree, I never really liked him anyway.”

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