Page 76 of The Rehoboth Retreat
@reclaimthecocktailhour:Not the homewrecker pretending he’sstill wholesome. Unfollowed.
My fingers froze. My throat constricted. The corners of my vision tingled with the sting of oncoming tears.
“Mom,” I whispered, unable to make my voice rise above a rasp, “I… I think something’s happened.”
She narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. “Darling, what is it?”
But I was already tapping to answer Lena’s incoming call.
“I’m so sorry,” Lena said before I even got a word out. Her voice was tight, anxious. “It started about twenty minutes ago. Paparazzi photos. Someone must’ve followed you both yesterday. Or today. I tried to do damage control, but… I could only do so much. I’m sending over the article now.”
She forwarded a link. I opened it with shaking hands.
GAYTAB.NET: MILES WHITAKER SPILLS MORE THAN MIMOSAS—MEET HIS HOT NEW SCANDAL
And there they were. A collage of images.Brutally invasive, perfectly timed, and absolutely damning.
One showed me and Hudson laughing, side by side at The Top of the Pines, his arm casually slung behind me on the booth like we were already lovers.
Another? From today. At the dock. I was holding onto his forearm, looking up at him, that stupid dreamy look plastered across my face. It looked…intimate. It looked like something we’d rehearsed.
But the worst?
The shot of me kneeling on the beach beside him—when he’d cut his foot. The blood was cropped out. The angle made it look like I was cradling his face.
The headline beneath read:
Professional Organizer or Professional Homewrecker? Inside the Steamy Weekend Miles Whitaker Doesn’t Want You to See.
While currently married to real estate agent Owen Ashbourne, Miles Whitaker has been caught in an apparent romantic rendezvous with infamous model and tabloid magnet Hudson Knight. Knight, recently single after the Jackson Pierce debacle, is no stranger to scandal—but Whitaker’s squeaky-clean brand is in question. Will his sponsors stick around?
An unnamed source close to the situation told us, “It’s all happening fast. He’s on vacation, away from his husband, out here locking lips with a celebrity on a boat.”
Reps for Hudson Knight declined to comment. Miles Whitaker’s team did not respond before publication.
My hands trembled. I lowered the phone slowly, like it might explode.
“I can’t believe this!” I said.
Cecilia came closer. “Miles?”
“I didn’t think… I didn’t think there were cameras. Not out here. Not in Rehoboth Beach.”
“I told you,” she said gently, taking the phone from my hand. “You can never fully escape the spotlight. Not when the man you’re kissing is a walking headline.”
“But I helped him get stitches,” I murmured, almost to myself. “He wasbleeding. And now I look like I’m—”
“A slutty saboteur?” Cecilia offered, deadpan.
I shot her a look, but the corner of her mouth twitched with sympathy.
“I worked so hard,” I whispered, eyes stinging. “You know I did. And I purposefully wanted to wait a bit to come out publicly about my divorce. To come back after everything with Owen. To build something real. To create something people could trust. I’ve been so careful with my brand. My image. And now…”
“To hell with the brand,” she said, handing me one. “It’s a gorgeous day. You kissed a gorgeous man. If people want to roast you for that, let them burn.”
“I don’t think I can fix this,” I whispered, my voice cracking at the edges. My fingers were clenched around the stem of the glass, but I didn’t dare drink it. My hand was trembling too badly.
Cecilia leaned back in her lounger, watching me with that same unreadable look she always wore when the situation called for composure—except I was falling apart.
