How do you know your life is about to fall apart?

For me, it started at Dunkin’ Donuts. The girl across the counter had just handed me the large coffee when a guy tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was really the chick in the video. When I asked what he was talking about, the ten people in line behind us all whipped out their phones in a race to show me.

There I stood, mouth agape, coffee dripping down my arm as I realized I was looking at the video I took of Jacob getting deepthroated last summer. The same video I deleted months ago.

But it wasn’t until some jerk leaned toward me and asked if I do that for all of my boyfriends that I realized he thought I was the girl in the video.

At which point the coffee slipped out of my hand and crashed on the floor, splattering everyone.

I flinch as Roger taps his desk, shaking me from my thoughts. “How did this happen?” he asks, looking pissed to be having this conversation.

I open my mouth—to say what, I’m not sure—when Spencer answers. “We’re not sure, Roger. I’m on it, though.” I didn’t even realize he was in the room.

“You sure as hell had better be on it. Because the last time I checked, hacking into someone’s phone was a federal offense.”

Spencer scoffs. “Assuming what Maddie said was true.”

Roger glares at him. “I think Maddie has been perfectly upfront here. She disclosed her past relationship with Jacob in detail. I think we can trust her side of the story. Because I seriously doubt she would upload a self-condemning video to our servers.” With a pained expression, Roger turns to me. “Is there anything else I need to know? Anything at all?”

After a moment, I shake my head. Because now is probably not the time to tell him I’ve been having an affair with Daren for the last four months.

My stomach turns over, and I cover my mouth, willing myself to not vomit.

A knock on the door has the three of us looking up at two men in expensive suits. “Risk management. We’re here from the legal department.”

Susan the secretary pokes in her head a second later. “Boss, the phone lines are flooded. Everyone from CNN to MSNBC wants to know when we’ll have a statement.”

He waves her off. “The vultures aren’t going anywhere. They can wait.” Roger rubs his five o’clock shadow. “Maddie, do you have an attorney you can call?”

Oh, God. “I… I don’t know.”

“Really, Roger?” the risk management guy asks.

Roger points back at him. “Don’t act like you’re not ready to ruin this girl’s career over some stupid viral footage. People are starving in the streets every day, politicians take payoffs like I pop my vitamins, and the only thing you care about is this fucking video.” He slams his desk drawer shut. “The truth here is we shouldn’t give a shit who is in this video. We shouldn’t be spending the resources of our newsroom on this story because it’s not a goddamn news story!”

Whoa. My eyes tear up as I realize he’s on my side.

“Maddie,” Roger says like a sigh, “find an attorney. Call someone. You shouldn’t go in with those guys without one. I know your side of things. That’s enough for today. Think you can get someone lined up for tomorrow?”

I nod even though I have no clue where to start.

On my way out to my car, I’m swarmed by reporters who scream in my face.

“Maddie, when did you do that video?”

“How long have you and Jacob been dating?”

“Were you together the night of the bachelor contest?”

Finally, I can’t stand it, and I stop to address the cameras. “I am unequivocally not the girl in the video. Jacob and I broke up in May, and aside from the bachelor contest promo shoots and the event itself, I haven’t spoken to him since.”

I begin to push my way through the crowd, and they keep barraging me with questions.

It isn’t until I’m parked in South Boston that I break down and cry.

* * *

I’m lying prone on the twin bed in the spare bedroom at my uncle’s house. The tears stopped a little while ago, but only because numbness set in.

I stare at my crap from high school, wishing my uncle Patrick hadn't gone to such lengths to help me settle in here after my dad died. I never had the heart to tell Patrick how my posters and photos and yearbooks all just reminded me of my father and made the pain worse.

Jesus. What would my dad say about this? How horrified would he be right now?

Burrowing into the cotton pillowcase, I close my eyes and try to block out thinking about my father. But being surrounded by all of my shit from high school makes it tough.

“Maddie, honey, are you okay?” My uncle pokes his head through my door. Nodding, I wipe away the wetness on my face. He shuffles uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets. “Can I bring you something to eat? Maybe some soup?”

I give him a weak smile and agree even though I’m not sure I can hold anything down. But if I don’t accept it, Patrick will worry. The door closes, and I close my eyes.

Patrick is only eight years older than I am, so he’s more like a distant older brother than uncle, but he’s always been here for me. My swan dive of public humiliation has to be hard for him. But he hasn’t said much. Just that he loves me and knows I’ll get through this.

Crashing at his house was my only option. I haven’t stayed here in years, not for any extended period of time. I never wanted to be a burden—not that my uncle ever made me feel that way, but he did so much for me growing up, and I never wanted to take advantage of his kindness.

The low murmur of the TV in the other room is a constant reminder of what I face if I try to head back to Sheri’s.

My eyes are swollen, and I feel so helpless. Tears burn in my eyes. I need to tell Daren the truth. He needs to hear it directly from me that I’m not the girl in that video. I know we’re not together anymore, but I want to tell him I would never do that to him.

But that video looks so bad. That girl looks like me. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking. I hope he knows that looks can be deceiving.

All at once, I can barely breathe.

Oh my God.

Is this what he was trying to tell me? I never gave him a chance to explain because I was hell-bent on protecting myself. But what if I was wrong? What if there was an explanation for how that girl got his t-shirt? He’s never given me any reason to doubt his sincerity or honesty before.

Do I really think he cheated on me? Could he treat me the way Jacob treated me?

Nausea roils in my stomach, and bitterness crawls up the back of my throat.

No. I don’t.

Cursing from the other room makes me lift my head. My uncle’s voice echoes down the hall. “Maddie! You need to see something! Get out here! Oh, shit.”

Ugh, I can’t take much more of this.

Lifting myself off the bed is difficult, my body feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. Sluggishly, I walk toward the living room of my uncle’s humble two-bedroom house.

When I round the corner, I see my uncle on the couch, his hand over his face. I’m about to ask what’s wrong when I look up at his flatscreen and my worst nightmare comes true. Bile pushes up the back of my throat, and I cover my mouth.

Because the girl in these images having sex with Daren? That one is me.