Chapter Eight
Sabrina flew first class to LA courtesy of The Joanne Show, feeling extraordinarily tired. After she’d said goodbye to Logan, she’d been on the verge of tears and ran into Claire, who arranged for a ride home for her and then waited with her in the foyer while Sabrina babbled about how none of it had worked. Logan had noticed her dress, but he had absolutely no problem with all her good wishes for him and Olivia, and he’d even been cool with saying goodbye to their friendship. Never mind that the goodbye was what she’d wanted in light of his obvious devotion to Olivia. She’d held out a desperate hope that he’d step up, declaring Sabrina was too good a friend to let go. She sighed. It really was over. Logan was in the past.
Her future was ahead in a blooming career. She’d promised her literary agent she’d work up an outline for her relationship book while she was in LA, and she was excited by the idea. If only she could get past her total failure in the relationship department, then she could be open to whatever happiness awaited in the future. The hard thing was waiting for that future to happen.
She closed her eyes, her mind replaying the party last night for the hundredth time. She’d really tried to give Logan a signal, but she’d gotten more and more nervous about exactly how to do that without throwing herself at him, and ended up drinking more and more wine. He’d spent most of the time looking baffled, some of it entertained, and then he’d yelled at her just because Marcus drank from her glass. That was uncalled for. It wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong. Although…he had said she looked amazing in Claire’s dress. Of course, so did her friends, so that didn’t mean more than a friend thing.
There was a moment there. A brief moment after he’d apologized when he’d leaned so close she’d thought they might kiss. And she’d wanted that more than anything, but then she’d remembered that was her attraction for him, not his for her. And he was with Olivia.
Goodbye, Logan. Hello, future happiness. She hoped. She deserved a little happiness, didn’t she? She reclined her seat, tired of wallowing, and drifted to sleep.
She woke just before landing. Once at the airport, she found her ride, which whisked her off to a hotel in Beverly Hills. Her appearance on The Joanne Show was tomorrow afternoon. Claire had advised her to arrive a day early to get over the jet lag.
And what a day it was! She relaxed poolside, feeling decadent as she read Married to my Fiancé and sipped pomegranate-flavored iced tea. She could get used to this kind of life. Claire had arranged everything, and she couldn’t thank her enough.
The next day she arrived at The Joanne Show for the one o’clock taping, refreshed and ready to go. The show would air at four o’clock today. She was whisked to hair and makeup, where first her makeup was applied and then her hair done. She wore her royal blue silk blouse with charcoal gray pants and her new metallic heels with wings. Claire had declared her outfit was the perfect middle ground between professional and stylish.
Joanne Fisher walked into the hair and makeup area to greet her. In person she was even prettier than on TV. She was probably in her forties, her dark hair highlighted with auburn, ending just past her jaw. Her eyes were brown, warm and sparkling with good humor. Like Logan’s eyes. Nope. Not going there.
Joanne took the makeup chair next to Sabrina. “So you’re the Hollywood Love Guru. Who’s on your client list?”
Sabrina felt herself flush. Claire had encouraged her to embrace the label. It was, after all, the main reason Sabrina had been invited on all these talk shows. As uncomfortable as it was for her, knowing it had only been gossip that led to the label, Sabrina went along with it for the greater good. Her agent had assured her that the talk shows would lead to a lucrative book deal with a big marketing budget, which would mean a large audience for her book. That was what it all came down to for Sabrina—helping the most women she could with the kind of committed relationship they deserved.
Sabrina kept her tone professional. “Patient confidentiality means I never share identifying details.”
“But you helped Claire Jordan.”
Sabrina smiled, repeating herself. “Patient confidentiality means I never share details on any of my clients.” Claire had advised her to repeat her answer over and over whenever she didn’t want to go into more detail, until the interviewer moved on. It was better than saying “no comment,” which Sabrina had thought sounded too closed off for a counselor.
Joanne shifted gears. “So I reviewed the tape from Sunshine America.” The makeup artist smoothed foundation on Joanne’s face. “You mentioned helping your friends who struggled with committed relationships. Was that them having trouble committing or their boyfriends?”
Sabrina chose her words carefully. The last thing she wanted was to throw another friend under the bus. She didn’t kid herself that anything said backstage wouldn’t then be brought up in front of the cameras. “Eventually, there was a mutual commitment. My friends and I are in a singles book club, the Happy Endings Book Club, originally for the purpose of finding love.”
“I love that! The Happy Endings Book Club!”
Sabrina smiled to herself, thinking of some of the early votes for club names. Mad had been campaigning hard for SLUTS (Super Lovers of Underrated Terrific Stories). “It turned out no men were interested in dishing about books with us, so we dropped the singles part and just focused on the romance novels we all love.”
“A romance book club. Cool! What’s your favorite read?”
“We all loved the Fierce trilogy. That’s how we met Claire Jordan. She was brought in by a former member, the author of the books.”
Joanne grabbed Sabrina’s arm. “Those books are so steamy.”
“Right?”
Joanne looked up while makeup was applied to her eye. “So the Happy Endings Book Club is dedicated to romance, and you help your friends achieve that in real life. Is that how it works?”
“In a way, yes. We help each other, you know, bear witness to all the ups and downs. Everyone’s so supportive.”
Joanne pushed the makeup lady’s hand back from her eye and leaned close to Sabrina. “I think I want to join this book club too.”
Sabrina smiled. “We’d love to have you, but you’d have to move to Connecticut.”
She laughed. “So have you worked things out with Logan?”
Sabrina tensed; the loss of him still fresh. But Joanne didn’t know that. As far as everyone else knew, they’d had a lovers’ quarrel on the street in Manhattan. “We’d like to keep our relationship private. Everything’s fine, though.” She was not about to declare a fake breakup of her fake relationship just before a big interview. Besides, she wanted to keep the focus on her career, not her crappy love life.
The makeup lady resumed adding eyeliner to Joanne’s eyes, and Joanne got quiet. Good. Sabrina had handled that like a pro. She decided to ask a question of her own. “So—”
Joanne cut her off. “Were you and Logan really fighting like the article said?”
Sabrina worked hard to sound composed and professional. “No. We’re more the talk-things-through type.” At least that was what Claire had said they’d be like if they were actually a couple. Sabrina wasn’t so sure.
Joanne pointed a manicured finger at her, saying in a singsong voice, “He looked pissed.”
“That was taken out of context,” Sabrina returned, unable to keep the sharp edge from her voice. “I’d like to avoid the topic of my relationship with Logan during our interview. Claire told me that was part of our agreement.”
Joanne straightened. “I know my job.” She tilted her chin as blush was applied to her face. “Just curious, you know, girlfriend to girlfriend.”
“Gotcha. So tell me all about how you got The Joanne Show.”
Those were the magic words because Joanne went off on an animated description of her gradual climb to her own show, from bit parts on TV, to a brief stint as cohost of a morning talk show, to taking a break to be a mom, going in a completely different direction and doing standup comedy, appearing on other late night talk shows, and then finally landing her own show.
Sabrina relaxed, glad to have the focus off her and also really entertained. Things went smoothly from there. Joanne began their interview with a shout-out to the Happy Endings Book Club, and Sabrina said a quick hello to her friends through the camera. Just thinking of them made Sabrina feel supported. They’d watch this later and cheer her on.
Joanne kept true to her word, not mentioning Logan at all during their interview, not even asking about Sabrina’s personal experiences at all. It was all about what Sabrina would recommend to people in different relationship situations, which was fun for Sabrina, tackling hypotheticals.
By the time the interview ended, Sabrina was elated.
“All clear,” the director said, and the lights dimmed, the cameras turned off.
“I really enjoyed our interview, Sabrina,” Joanne said warmly. “Thanks so much for choosing to appear on my show first.” That had all been Claire’s doing, being savvy to which shows Sabrina should do and in what order.
“My pleasure. I hope it was helpful to your viewers.”
“I’m sure it will be.”
She went backstage, gathered her things, and headed out the back exit, where her ride, another black Mercedes, waited. The moment she stepped outside, she froze, shocked by a crowd of paparazzi and reporters waiting for her. Holy shit! She was a relationship counselor, not a celebrity. Lights flashed in a flurry of pictures, momentarily blinding her. A microphone was shoved in her face. “Did you become a relationship counselor because you were left at the altar?”
Nausea roiled through her stomach, her skin cold and clammy.
More microphones appeared. “Are you going to Kevin’s wedding?”
“Was your article a revenge piece against Kevin?”
“How does Logan feel about Kevin?”
“Do you help other jilted brides?”
Only her family and friends knew about Kevin. Oh, God, she was going to be sick.
The chauffeur, a large muscular man in his forties, shoved his way through the crowd and hustled her into the backseat of the car. The car door shut as more questions were hurled at her. Her friends wouldn’t have betrayed her. She swallowed down bile and jabbed the lock on the door.
Someone pounded on her window, making her jump. The guy gestured for her to power the window down. She stared straight ahead, heart pounding, all of her nerves raw and jittery. A moment later, the car pulled away.
She rubbed her forehead. How did they know? And how was this going to bite her on the ass in her next interview? She grabbed her phone from her purse to call Claire. One of the publicists at Sabrina’s literary agent’s company had set up the interviews, but it was Claire who had personally contacted producers and smoothed the way. Only Claire had the pull to make demands on what topics were off-limits in Sabrina’s interviews. Besides, she knew she couldn’t count on her literary agent to run interference. When Sabrina had shared her concerns with Joyce about the psycho relationship counselor possibly sabotaging her, Joyce had cheerfully replied, “No such thing as bad publicity!”
The moment Claire answered, Sabrina told her everything, the story tumbling out in a rush of words.
“Sabrina,” Claire said firmly, “I want you to take a breath, in and out. Stay calm. The last thing you want is to arrive at your hotel, find more reporters waiting for you, and blurt something in your emotional state.”
“Okay,” she managed in a strangled voice. She took a deep breath in and out.
“Now let’s take this one thing at a time. I’ll make some calls to the other talk shows to be sure that Kevin is not a topic for any interview. Give your agent the heads-up. If the producer doesn’t sign off on it, tell your agent to pull the interview.”
She ran shaky fingers through her hair. “Okay, okay.”
“Now who knew about Kevin?”
“Everyone at the wedding, I guess. My family, his family, our friends from college.”
“Are there still hard feelings between you and Kevin? Would he want to lash out at you?”
“No hard feelings on his part. He sent me an invitation to his wedding. He actually emailed too, wanting me to meet his fiancée.”
“What a dick move!”
She calmed down a little with fierce Claire on her side. “I really don’t see what he’d have to gain from telling people what he did though. It makes him look bad that he ditched me.” She looked out the window, thinking hard. “Maybe if someone got in touch with my family. They love publicity and wouldn’t hesitate to share. Though, so far, I haven’t heard a peep from any of them. It’s possible someone was digging into my past and found out Kevin and I applied for a marriage license that was never filed, or, I don’t know, someone just started digging, talking to people who knew me back then.”
“Who wants you to fall on your face?” Claire asked.
“Tara Brinkman. That relationship counselor I told you about. She threatened me with a lawsuit, saying I was trying to steal her clients. I suspected she was the one behind that article on me and Logan supposedly having a lovers’ spat.”
“If she was motivated enough, I’d say it was her. The problem is proving it. We can’t take legal action against her without some evidence.”
“Legal action,” Sabrina echoed, rubbing her temple.
“It’s defamation of character, and you can sue her for it. You’re a brand now, and we have to protect the brand.”
She thought about that. She didn’t know about the brand stuff, but damage to her reputation would definitely damage her career. “I don’t even know where to start finding evidence. All I know is she’s trademarked herself as the Commitment Counselor and had a New York Times bestselling book called Goodbye Commitment-Phobe.”
“I remember her! Oh, yeah, she had her fifteen minutes of fame. She’s probably just jealous of you.”
“There is some overlap in our practices. She has an office not far from mine. One in Manhattan too.”
“I’ll get someone to dig into her a little more. See what she’s up to.”
She held the phone close, suddenly aware of the driver up front probably listening. “Claire,” she whispered, “I’m afraid of what she might dig up.”
“Are you somewhere private?”
“No.”
“Call me when you are.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“Don’t worry. You enjoy yourself out there, okay? It’s not every day you’re the toast of the town. Have some champagne and relax. I’m on it, and I’ve got your publicist’s info too if I need it.”
“Thanks, Claire. I’ll call you later.”
“Ciao.”
She smiled at Claire’s starry turn of phrase. “Ciao.”
Welp. This was either going to be a glorious rise to a new stage in her career or a spectacular crash and burn. She’d find out soon enough. Wait and see. Augh. She was terrible about waiting. She wanted control of her life. She needed stability. This was exactly why she’d avoided the spotlight in the first place.
~ ~ ~
Sabrina’s next interview wasn’t until six o’clock the next day, so she had a good long while to fret. She’d called Claire back once she was back at the hotel and told her all about her nutso family, who never committed to anybody, and all her fears of being a fraud. Claire took it in stride, assuring her it wasn’t anything they couldn’t manage. The important thing, Claire said, was to stay on message, and that message was “Sabrina is a warm, professional relationship counselor that you’d be lucky to have on your side.”
Sabrina had been reciting that motivational nugget to herself every time nerves got the better of her. She kept herself busy, working up an outline for her book and firing it off to her literary agent. Action was always better than inaction, especially in anxiety-filled times.
By the time she got to the studio for The James Lyon Show, a late night talk show, she almost wished Logan was there, standing in the background, supporting her in his quiet solid way. But Logan wasn’t an option. They’d said their goodbyes. He was meeting up with Olivia Friday night after his most important investor meeting, and Sabrina wouldn’t be at all surprised if he moved in with Olivia after that, cementing their relationship in San Francisco.
Her time at The James Lyon Show was conspicuously lacking in the warmth that Joanne had showed her. She’d been left to her own devices in a small dressing room with her name taped to the door, until just before filming when a crew member brought her to the very masculine set with a dark blue backdrop, a black desk, and light blue guest chairs.
Sabrina stood off camera, where she’d been told to wait for her cue. A studio audience was already in place, most of them young and male. Not exactly Sabrina’s target demographic. Claire had assured her this show was key to Sabrina cementing her status. When Sabrina argued she wasn’t about status, Claire explained how that would translate into her book deal happening, which meant she’d reach a lot of people, men and women. Claire really understood Sabrina’s priorities.
James Lyon finally appeared, striding on set, tapping his desk for some reason, and then heading toward the audience. He was in his thirties, his black hair slicked back, tall and lanky, with a ready smile. They weren’t filming yet, the crew standing by for their cue. James waved to the studio audience before detouring to where she stood off camera, taking her hand in both of his and smiling. “So nice to meet you, Sabrina.”
“You too. I’m happy to be here.”
He gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Your Happy Endings Book Club sounded interesting. Any other kind of happy endings going on there?” He winked and made an obscene gesture with his hand.
She didn’t bother to keep the irritation from her voice. “No. And I don’t like the way you’re speaking to me.”
“Touchy.”
“I’m a professional, and I expect you to be too, on and off camera.”
He adjusted his collar, pulling it away from his neck. “Yeesh, do I need to get my lawyer in on this?” His tone was jovial.
Sabrina was not amused. “Do I need to get mine?”
He grinned. “Feisty.”
She stared at him.
“Come on, lighten up. Just having some fun with you. We’re going to have a good show.” He strode onto the set, taking his seat at the big desk.
She took a deep breath, hoping for the best, unsure what she was going to get from this guy. She didn’t mind joking around, but she was a professional and wanted her work to be taken seriously. She was here to help people, not be the butt of a joke.
The show began. She waited for her cue before striding on stage, smiling at him before taking her seat.
“Sabrina Clarke, Hollywood Love Guru, everyone!” James gestured for the audience to applaud. They did, clapping and whistling. “Okay, okay.” He gestured for them to quiet down and turned to her. “Great to see you here, Sabrina.”
“Happy to be here.”
“Any tips for a guy like me? How do I get a woman to commit?”
The audience roared with laughter.
She smiled good-naturedly. “Actually, both men and women can fear commitment. Sometimes it’s an issue from their childhood that causes a lack of stability in their relationships.” Her mind flashed to Logan, and his mom leaving his family. Her theory had been wrong in his case. He didn’t have a problem with commitment. His brothers and sister were in committed relationships. His older brother, Josh, and his dad weren’t. Commitment was a deliberate choice. But what made some people take that leap of faith and others not, given the same circumstances?
“Sabrina?” James waved a hand in front of her face. “Still with us?”
She blinked. “Sorry. Commitment comes with trust, something that builds gradually over time as two people get to know each other. It requires going beyond the surface to what’s really meaningful to you.”
James grinned. “I find a lot of meaning in beer.”
The audience laughed.
Sabrina pasted on a smile, convinced Claire had agreed to the wrong show. Frat boy came to mind.
James got serious, saying with real sincerity, “I’d like to find love.”
The audience quieted.
Maybe she’d been hasty in her judgment. Maybe he hid real vulnerability behind his jovial manner.
“Sabrina, you think a guy like me could find love through your romance book club?”
She took the question at face value, hoping he didn’t make any happy endings jokes because she just might smack him. “I think reading romance novels would be a great start. They celebrate everything important in life—love, happiness, working through whatever obstacles separate two people, and joining them together.”
“Like the Fierce trilogy.” He shook his fingers in the air and blew on them. “Hot.”
She inclined her head. Everyone brought up the Fierce trilogy whenever romance came up, but those stories, based heavily on sexual dominance, were so much more than that. “I agree they’re very hot stories, but they also have deeper themes of redemption and forgiveness. Romance novels have a lot to teach us, and I think more men should read them.”
“I just might take you up on that.” He looked to the audience. “Would you guys like to see me do that? Maybe we’ll see how reading romance novels helps or hurts my chances with women.”
The audience cheered and whistled. God, Sabrina hoped he didn’t make those stories a point of ridicule. If he did, she’d have to start a campaign against him. She couldn’t stand to have her advice twisted for a mean-spirited joke.
James laughed. “When we come back, we’ll find out the qualities Sabrina looks for in a winning relationship.”
Winning. Relationships weren’t win or lose. They were give and take. She kept her mouth shut. She’d save that for the camera.
James turned and spoke to the director.
She sipped some water from the mug that seemed to be a staple for talk shows. This was going better than she’d expected considering his initial boorishness.
The show started again, and James fired off an unexpected question. “Sabrina, what qualifies you to be a relationship expert?”
She froze, all of her feelings of fraud coming to the surface before she ruthlessly pushed them down. “I’m a relationship counselor with a master’s degree in psychology from NYU and a thriving practice of happy committed couples.” She smiled. “At least they are when I get through with them.”
The audience laughed. Not a huge laugh but still.
James rolled with it. “So what do you do to them? Make them give each other a bunch of lovey-dovey greeting cards?” He turned to the audience and stuck out his tongue. “Ugh, aren’t they the worst?” His voice rose to a falsetto. “I love you forever and ever. I love you to the stars and back. Sickeningly sweet. What guy wants that?”
She jumped in as if he’d directed the question to her and spoke about the importance of good communication, starting with good listening on both partners’ parts.
And he actually listened intently.
She sailed through the rest of the interview, feeling like she put some good stuff out there, and then she was done.
She left the studio, flying high. Some paparazzi and reporters waited outside, snapping pictures and calling out questions, but this time she was prepared. She didn’t halt in her tracks, instead walking quickly to her car. The driver was already there, holding the door open for her. She was just about to get in when a harsh masculine voice asked, “Why is the Hollywood Love Guru single?”
She whirled to find that same photographer from New York with the long ponytail. “Who are you?”
“Logan Campbell was never your boyfriend. Why did you lie, Sabrina?”
A shiver went through her at his hostile tone. “No comment.” This time she felt within her rights to shut down the question.
She got into the car and tried desperately for a deep breath. She couldn’t get one, her chest muscles seizing tight with the effort. She breathed shallowly, dangerously close to losing it. It was hard to ignore the commotion of paparazzi outside as the car pulled away.
She wasn’t sure if she was going to scream or cry, but the pressure inside her couldn’t be contained. Not only did she hate being in the press for the wrong reasons, she hated Logan’s name being dragged along with hers. She wiped away an errant tear. It was only a matter of time before her paparazzi dad showed up. He’d have no qualms about selling her out for a big payday. That was the sad and awful truth of her dad. He’d never cared about her and hadn’t wanted to be a part of her life. She’d only met him for the first time at thirteen when he’d showed up to get some pictures of her mom with her art at the peak of her career. Hell, her mom would probably start reaching out to the press too, hoping to draw attention to her erotic paintings. Fuck my life. Could she not have just one good thing without all the complications?
She managed not to break down on the drive to the hotel. By the time she got back to the safety of her hotel room, she was thinking more clearly. She pulled out her phone, thinking of calling Claire again to see if she’d made any progress with building a case against Tara Brinkman, the woman Sabrina was beginning to think of as her nemesis. Her heart kicked hard at Logan’s name on her phone screen. He’d texted her. They hadn’t been in touch since Claire’s party three days ago.
Logan: I set up a Google alert on your name to see how you were doing out there. My name came up too. Call me.
She stared at the text, the implications slowly sinking in. First, he’d cared enough to keep up with how she was doing, even after she’d told him goodbye. She warmed at the thought. Their bond was tighter than she’d realized. But if he saw his name linked with hers, he probably wasn’t happy. He was trying to work things out with Olivia, and continued mention of Sabrina and Logan together wouldn’t help that.
Before she called him, she set up a Google alert on her name. Everything in her seized, the pressure on her chest returning with a vengeance, and she broke out in a cold sweat. It was worse than she’d thought. The good articles describing her talk-show appearances and her article on commitment-phobes were completely eclipsed by the gossip. The picture of her and Logan fighting was everywhere. Numerous articles speculated on what the real story was between the two of them and questioned her qualifications. Even more articles speculated on which famous movie-star couples were on her client list.
Speculation on Hollywood couples didn’t concern her, most of them pointed out happily married couples, but damage to her reputation from the other articles was a huge problem. All the articles questioning her qualifications quoted an anonymous source. If only she could find a way to prove it was that psycho Tara. She debated calling Tara and confronting her directly. Sabrina could assure her there were plenty of clients for both of them, no need for things to escalate. But what if their conversation made things worse? What if Tara used the conversation against her?
She called Logan.
“Hi,” he said somberly. Despite the circumstances, the pressure on her chest eased just hearing his familiar deep voice.
“Hi. I’m sorry your name keeps getting linked to mine. It’s awful. I don’t know what to do. I can’t prove who’s behind it. Maybe it’s just curiosity about me, but it feels malicious.”
“It is malicious.” He paused. “Look, I’m not sure what can be done, but this is screwing things up for me in more ways than one. It looks really bad for me to be getting all this press as some kind of, I don’t even know, like a guy who doesn’t have his head on straight, fighting in public, lying that we were together when we weren’t. I let it go when you first mentioned us as a couple so you could save face, but I don’t want to walk into those investor meetings and the first thing they think when they see me is that I’m a complete flake.”
Shit. She hadn’t even thought about that. First impressions mattered, and if they saw him through the salacious filter of gossip, it would be harder for him to be taken seriously. “I don’t even know what to say. I feel terrible.”
“Olivia’s irate every time my name comes up on some crap website, even though it’s the same story recycled over and over.”
She wished Logan had let her talk to Olivia. She was sure she could’ve explained everything. “Are you still going to try to get through to her in person?”
“Yeah. We’re supposed to have dinner Friday night after my meeting with Elias Gold. Big day for me.”
That would be big. Logan had told her before that the meeting with Elias was the most important one. “Maybe you could try some kind of romantic gesture that shows how much you care, how dedicated you are.” She was a masochist. Here she was, helping the man she wanted for herself. But she’d screwed things up for him, and, at least in relationship territory, she could be of some help.
“Yup. Flowers, jewelry, candy. I know the drill. You know what pisses me off though? Why should I have to apologize when I’ve done nothing wrong?”
“Don’t look at it as apologizing.” It was more of a classic grovel.
“But that’s what it is.”
“Think of it as an outward symbol of your love.”
“That the kind of thing you tell your clients?” His skepticism came through loud and clear.
“Yes, what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Just kind of hokey.”
She huffed. It was bad enough she felt like a fraud, the gossips were stomping all over her reputation, and now Logan was questioning her abilities? “There is a love language that is meaningful to women. It’s words, yes, but also actions. And I suspect you’ve been a little defensive, maybe letting some of your anger show with Olivia, when what she needs to hear is reassurance that she is who you want.”
“If I’ve been pissed off, it’s only because she’s screaming at me.”
“She’s that mad?”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you. Everything is fucked up. Please just get my name out of this mess.”
“Okay, I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks. I caught your Joanne interview. You did great. You probably never needed me backstage.”
The implication was clear. He’d been there for her and had been paying for it ever since. “I bet you wish you never showed up at Sunshine America. Then none of this would’ve happened.”
“I don’t do regrets. All right, I’d better get back to work. I’m flying out tomorrow, and I want to run through the presentation with Ben before I pack up the whole show.”
She relaxed a little because now, despite everything, he sounded like the laid-back Logan she knew. He wasn’t holding a grudge against her. He just wanted her to fix the fuckup. “Good luck!”
“Thanks.”
She said a quick bye and disconnected. Then she looked up the Slater Foundation, figuring the least she could do was set the record straight with Olivia. She called her at work and left a message with her assistant.
Exhausted, she flopped on the hotel bed and threw her arm over her eyes. This would all be over soon, she reassured herself. Two more interviews tomorrow, one of them on an early morning radio show, and then a long weekend seeing some of the sights in California. She planned on renting a car and taking a drive south along the Pacific Coast Highway. This was supposed to be her vacation, after all, and she’d never been to California before. She planned to check out the beaches, the old Spanish missions, the seals in La Jolla, and spend a relaxing weekend in San Diego.
But it was hard to work up any excitement for sightseeing, knowing Logan was about to walk into the most important meeting of his life with all of this hanging over his head.
And the blame lay squarely on her shoulders.