Page 60 of One Night in Paris

“Well, honey, I think you should stop and pick up a copy, like you told him on the phone,” Mom suggested.

Chuckling, I asked, “Eavesdrop much?”

Mom shrugged. “You’re not supposed to take calls in the clinic, dear, remember?”

“I know. I just thought it might be about work.” We had a couple of important accounts I thought Logan might’ve wanted to update me on. I had no idea he’d want to talk to me about this.

“Pull over at one of these stands and get a copy.” Mom pointed out the window at one of a million places where a person could pick up a paper or magazine in the city.

Knowing that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she could see exactly what it was, I found a place to park, which wasn’t easy, and headed toward a magazine stand. Thankfully, this one wasclose to a coffee shop, so I could duck in there and grab some caffeine to keep me awake on the drive home. Since we were crawling along anyway, it might take a few hours to get there at this rate.

Approaching the magazine stand, I kept my arm around Mom to make sure she didn’t fall and no one bumped into her. She was doing okay since this new therapy wasn’t as hard on her as what she’d been doing before, but she was still wobbly.

Before we got there, I heard her let out a heavy sigh. “What is it, Mom?”

“Nothing, dear. I’m just worried for you. What if those imbeciles say something dreadful about you that obviously isn’t true? I would hate to see your good name dragged through the mud.”

Keeping my mouth shut, I only hummed an agreement. Mom didn’t know that I really was sleeping with my boss. If that was the focus of the article, then anything anyone said wouldn’t be false. But if it talked about other things, like me being after his money or something, well, that would be another story.

Logan hadn’t told me the name of the magazine, just that it was a gossip rag. From a distance, I looked at that section as we got closer to the stand. It didn’t take long for me to find it. My eyes focused in on Logan’s face.

Rage boiled up inside of me as I saw the pose we were standing in had been manipulated. It wasn’t awful—we were only embracing—but it irritated me to no end that Dave couldn’t even settle for selling an actual photograph he had. No, he had to make it even worse than it was in real life.

“What does it say?” Mom asked.

Rather than answering her, I pointed to a large sign that said the merchandise had to be purchased before it could be read. Then, I walked over to the clerk and laid the magazine down asI reached into my purse to grab some cash. I prayed he wouldn’t recognize me.

The older gentleman barked out a price, and I handed it over to him, telling him to keep the change, something I always did when I could since I knew, as a waitress, how lousy it was to work so hard for such little compensation.

Mom and I stepped out of the way. She practically ripped it out of my hands, she was so eager to find the article. Standing back, I let her do it herself, keeping my arms out in case she lost her balance.

A few moments later, she found the article and began to read. Peering over her shoulder, I did the same. Instantly, my skin began to crawl. Every single word of the article painted me in a bad light. Very little of it was about Logan, other than establishing who he was. The rest of it was about how I was his secretary—which wasn’t even accurate—and we liked to fuck in his office while at work. It said I was a gold-digging bitch who wanted him for his money, essentially, but also warned me that he was fucking the rest of the planet behind my back.

Mom’s eyes were huge, her mouth hanging open, as she finished what they had to say about her only child. I could tell she was furious. “Why, the nerve of some people!” She slammed the magazine shut and tucked it under her arm. “How dare they say such things about you? None of that is true.”

“Mom, it’s okay. It will blow over.” I pulled her closer to me, hoping to calm her down. Even though I was just as upset as she was, I didn’t want her to know it or else she’d feel even worse.

“But Harper! The things that they said about you? You’re not a gold-digger. And you work hard at the office—doing your job! A job you do well and deserve proper compensation for.”

“I know, Mom. These people are just trying to get people to read a story, that’s all. Come on. Let’s get a cup of coffee.”

Steering her toward the coffee shop, I held the door for her, and we both walked inside. The line was relatively short, thank goodness. Mom needed to get home and get off her feet, but selfishly, I wanted a liquid treat to help take my mind off the situation with Logan.

Whipping the magazine open again, Mom stared at the page. “What are you going to do about this, darling?” she asked me.

“Probably nothing, Mom,” I admitted. “I mean, it’ll likely blow over, just like this stupid stuff always does. Give it a day or two, and people will move on to other things.”

Mom continued to thumb through the magazine, humming under her breath in frustration as she considered what had happened. I made my way to the front of the line, ordering my drink, and asked her if she wanted anything. She didn’t, so I paid and then waited for my coffee.

A few moments later, coffee in hand, I took hold of the magazine from Mom so she could concentrate on her walking. We stepped out of the coffee shop, and immediately flashes began to go off.

Startled, I held the magazine up in front of my face for a second. Mom let out a yelp and threw her hands up into the air, almost hitting my coffee. I quickly jumped out of the way, afraid of splashing the hot liquid all over her.

“Hey!” I yelled at the photographers who were leaning in for more shots. “Stop that!”

“How does it feel to see yourself all over social media?” one of them shouted at me.

“Is it true you’re sleeping with your boss?” another yelled.

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