Page 68 of Stone Promises

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I stuff the garment bag in the back of his closet, hoping Chad won’t notice it before Friday. Then I realize I still have an hour to kill before he gets home. I pick up my phone and check social media. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to do that. I’m bombarded by tons of messages, posts, and tweets—by my supposed friends; the same ones who have recently come out of the woodwork—showing me pictures of Chad and Courtney together. They follow the pictures with sad faces and notes of condolences. I proceed to clean house, blocking, unfriending and unfollowing anyone who chooses to participate in the tabloid heyday. Part of me wants to post the picture I took of us cuddling on the couch yesterday. I want to scream at these people and tell them to mind their own business and quit assuming things are real just because they see a stupid picture.

But I realize I’m probably just taking my frustration out on them. Maybe if I weren’t on the inside, I would believe everything I read, too. I mean, didn’t I for all those years Chad was gone? Granted, he did do a lot of what was printed, but it was made to seem so much worse.

The upsetting thing is that the pictures they’re posting were taken today. I know because Chad is wearing the same light-blue shirt he put on this morning. The pictures show two ‘love birds’ eating lunch together. It’s clear to me they aren’t alone, the table is too big for that, but the picture is cropped to make it look like they are sharing an intimate lunch for two.

He’s working, I know that. But deep down, I can’t help but feel like I’m the dirty little secret hidden away in his house while he’s out living hisreallife.

I can’t help myself. I do a search of Thad Stone pictures.

Also a monumentally bad idea.

There are hundreds of them. Thousands maybe. Most of them pair him with Courtney or Heather. Although he looks quite a bit younger in the ones with Heather.Wow—Kyle was right, she really does look like me; I never saw that until just now. Chad also is clearly thinner and spaced out in those photos. I’m glad we weren’t close then. It would have broken my heart to see him that way. There are some pictures with a girl named Nikki. My jealously radar peaks at full tilt. Nikki is the last girl he slept with before me. And she lives in New York City. She’s gorgeous.Splendid.

There’s another girl who shows up in several pictures, but there isn’t a name. She’s not insanely thin and beautiful like the others. She cute, with a long blonde ponytail in most of the photos, and I’d say quite a bit younger than he is. She doesn’t even look to be out of her teens. The pictures with her are different than the others. They aren’t so posed. They are more like the pictures I have of me and Chad. Fun. Spontaneous. Casual.

And that’s what scares the hell out of me. That and the fact that it looks like she’s been in his life for a while, at least a few years based on the ages Chad looks in them.

I throw my phone down on the couch. This is not helping. I go to the bedroom and pull a book out of my suitcase and lay down on Chad’s bed to start reading.

The next thing I know, I’m being kissed awake by the man who I was just dreaming about. I smile before I even open my eyes. I could get used to this—him coming home to me.

“God, I missed you today,” he says. “Do you know how hard it was to sit in meetings all day knowing you were back here? In my pool. On my bed.” He kisses me again, hovering over me, but not leaning down to put any weight on me. “I’m going to make good on that promise to join you in the pool. I just want to take a quick shower first.”

I draw my brows at him. “You need to showerbeforegoing in the pool?”

“Yeah. I was in conference rooms all day. I probably smell like Courtney’s hideous perfume. And some of the producers were smoking.” He kisses my nose and then empties his pockets onto the nightstand. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Why don’t you put on that green bikini of yours? Or better yet—just strip naked and save me the trouble of taking it off you.” He winks on his way to the bathroom.

My body is humming knowing what he has in store for me. How did I ever get so lucky?

I’m trying to decide between nakedness or bikini when Chad’s phone pings with a text. Then it pings again right after. I grab his phone and follow him. “Chad, your phone—” But the toilet flushes followed by the shower turning on. It’ll have to wait.

I go to put his phone down on the nightstand but catch a glimpse of the text. And then my stomach becomes lodged in the vicinity of my throat. The picture of the person who sent the text is the same young blonde ponytail girl from the internet pictures. And her name is Megan. The Megan from his favorites list. The one he said he hadn’t cleared out yet. I know it’s horribly wrong and an invasion of his privacy, however, I can’t help but tap on it and read the conversation as far back as it shows up on the screen.

Megan: I need you, Chad. Please?

Chad: Sweetie, I wish I could, but I’m in meetings all day.

Megan: Please? You said you would come whenever I need you. Well, I need you.

Chad: I did say that, didn’t I? Okay. I may be able to stop by around 4, but I’ll have to make it quick.

Megan: You’re the best. I love you, you know that, right?

Chad: Love you, too. See you then.

Megan: Thank you for coming over, even though it was just a quickie. I feel so much better now.

Megan: See you Sunday night.

I don’t bother reading back any further. I’ve read enough. With tear-blurred vision, I stare at her picture a moment longer and then I drop the phone onto the floor. I’m pretty sure I hear it crack but I’m too upset to care. My stomach turns and I have to concentrate to hold back the vomit. I don’t even bother with my suitcase. I grab my purse and my phone and head out the front door. I summon an Uber on my walk to the front gate of the neighborhood and by the time I reach it, a car is waiting.

“LAX p-please,” I tell him, trying to keep it together.

The whole way there, I wonder how I could have been so stupidly blind. He’s not changed his ways at all. How could he even sit there and claim to love me when he is clearly in love with Megan? He stopped at her house for a quickie and then came home to me? What kind of man does that? A self-serving asshole, that’s who.

I rip open the door before the car is even at a full stop. I start to run into the airport when I hear the screeching of tires behind me. I spin around to see what’s what and see Chad’s car. I quickly make a visual sweep but don’t see Cole. He’s here alone. He leaves his door open, running around the car in a t-shirt and board shorts as if he put on the first thing he found on his floor. “Mallory!” he yells.

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