Page 179 of Between the Lines

“I know. I didn’t expect it.”

“No one does.” She looks at the papers around us. “You’re going to have to make it up to her, then.”

“But being with me would mean being in the spotlight. Not always, but… from time to time. I can’t see her ever agreeing to that.” My hand fists at my side. “As much as I’d want to, I can’t crush every single tabloid story.”

“Have you told her you love her?”

I look at Mandy briefly before shifting my gaze to the backyard.

“That’s ano,” she says. “Look, I’m not an expert at relationships, you know that. My last one didn’t work out, and the last few years have been… crazy. But in your place, I’d start with that. Say you’re sorry and tell her that you love her. And, Aiden?”

“Yeah?”

“We didn’t crush every news article about Dad.” She smiles weakly. “And we survived. It’s been tough, yeah. But we’re tough people. Don’t you think Charlotte is, too?”

“Yes. I do. But I’m not sure she believes she is.” My fingers tap along the back of the couch in a hectic rhythm. “First I have to find her. There’s one place she might have gone… but it’s a bit of a stretch.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asks. “Get in your car.”

I start collecting the pages, stacking her memoir into a neat pile again. This draft is a culmination of months of Charlotte’s hard work. Of turning the fractured mess of a person’s life into something that can be sold as a compelling story. It’s a book I needed, but it’s one that she might regret ever agreeing to write.

“I have an idea,” I say.

CHAPTER 64

CHARLOTTE

During the long drive from Los Angeles back to the small town I once called home, I think of all the things I’ve learned from the people written memoirs about. Whose lives I’ve seen up close and personal.

Odds don’t lie. People do.

The cold only hurts if you let it.

People’s opinions are like air.

I had to win. There was only victory or death.

Most people fear failure. I fear never having tried.

I usually listen to podcasts or audiobooks when I drive. But during the hours it takes me back to Idaho, I’m alone with my thoughts.

My parents know now. Their concerns had been palpable on the phone, especially when I confirmed that I had indeed been dating Aiden.

Their response hurt like a wound, a splinter I can’t seem to get out. Knowing that, just as in the past, I once again made them targets of lunchroom speculations and embarrassment at work. That I’ve given them reasons to worry again.

My parents had had to endure televised scenes where Blake and I got intimate. Nothing explicit. Hints. Moving covers. Stupid smiles and winks.

I’d been so in love.

And then I’d been betrayed.

I’d been wrong to trust him. Wrong to trust my own emotions, to surrender to them so fully, and to let them lead me when I should have done more thinking instead.

I dodge more phone calls during the long drive. The latest is from theNew York Globejournalist, Audrey. I saved her number the other day so I could easily screen it.

A little later, a text comes in. I read it when I stop to get gas, avoiding the other fifteen or so on my phone. Including more than a few from Aiden.

Audrey:I’ve seen the tabloid news today. I want you to know that it affects nothing, as far as I’m concerned. I still think you should tell your story. Or just have a chat with me, off the record. It’s up to you.

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