Page 79 of Taste of Addiction

I shrug as if her comment means nothing and look at my fingernails. “Sure is a fun phase.”

“One that is costing him his reputation.” She motions with her hand for me to come closer to the desk. “Here, take a look.”

I stare down at the newspaper articles that have not-so-flattering pictures of my face plastered across the front. Speculative headlines. Eye-catching rumors. Hell,Hear Saytabloid says it best with just one word—ADDICT! In bold red script, like a scarlet letter.

I steady my heart rate as best I can, given the stress over what the world sees and thinks of me. But I keep my head held high, at least in front of her. “Hey, sometimes bad publicity is still good publicity.”

“Except for Graham who is trying to build his jewelry line. You are single-handedly ruining his career.”

The door behind us opens, and Graham is holding a takeout bag and drink carrier. His angry expression startles me.

“Sophia, what are you doing in my office?”

She looks baffled by his question. “I, um, wanted to see how you were doing after all of the controversy surrounding Angela.”

He steps into the room and places the drinks and food on the table. “Remind me again how this is any of your concern?”

I glance over at Sophia when Graham dismisses her. His cold demeanor toward her is vastly different from his reception to her in the past. Maybe he is catching on to her constantly harassing me. Taunting me. Making me want to punch her in the face.

“It’s just that when I saw what was being printed, I worried you were going to be painted in a bad light by your proximity to Angela.”

He turns to stare her down. I watch as a visible chill shakes her body. “This is not your concern. Leave it be.”

“Very well.”

Graham glances down at the plethora of articles covering his desk like a tablecloth. Sophia turns to leave, but glances over her shoulder to shoot me a look of disdain once Graham is perusing the news clippings. I move over to him as the door shuts harder than what is necessary.

“I’m sorry if I’m making things complicated for you. I have no idea how to fix this or even overcome it. I feel like I am drowning in drama that I have zero control over.”

“I don’t give a damn about my image. People are going to believe what they want to believe to suit whatever narrative they concoct in their head that seems the most interesting. Going to judge who they want to judge.” He straightens his posture and pulls me into a hug.

My body molds to his, and it feels like I just found the missing piece to a puzzle I have been working on for years. “I’m still sorry.”

He places a gentle kiss on the span of skin between my eyebrows. “I care about you. How are you dealing mentally with all of this?”

I shrug while still in his warm hold. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s focus on the things we can control. Everything else, let’s say ‘screw it.’”

“There’s not much Icancontrol,” I say, pulling back from him to look him in the eyes. “Everything is so crazy right now.”

“Angie, you can either let this all bring you down or you can face it head-on.”

I nod and try my best to hold back the tears. “I just want to get myself the help I need.”

Graham smiles and kisses my forehead. “We are in this together.” His words are another reminder of what he said in the SUV prior to arriving here, and the more he says them, the more I start to believe him.

I play with the waistband of his pants, staring up into the blue abyss of his eyes. “I just don’t want to mess things up for—”

He places a finger on my lips to silence me. “Stop. Stay focused. Quit worrying about what everyone else thinks.”

“Okay.” My voice is barely a whisper.

Graham pulls me to him, and we walk over to the table where our breakfast waits. I’m not that hungry, but I know I should at least try to eat. He takes out all of the items and passes me my hot chocolate. I take a sip. It is the perfect temperature. We move to the couch, and I relax into a pillow while I eat my home fries.

“That’s all you wanted?” he asks, taking a bite of his quiche. “Here, have some of mine.”

I hold my hand up. “I’m good, really.”

---