The questions fired at Stone fell on top of each other until they became a single jumbled noise. Within all that sound, the only words I could recognize was the name, Lily Clarke.

It actually took me a few seconds to work out what was going on. The group of journalists, the cameras, the passersby stopping, lingering on the sidewalk, diving into handbags and jacket pockets to retrieve phones that would record the events. Later, they’d replay, work out who the celebrity was, and if deemed worthy, share it online with some witty or scathing hashtag.

My mouth gaped for too long, and Stone grabbed my arm, steering me past the reporters.

“I have no comment,” he said through clenched teeth. Anger poured off him as he all but jumped in front of a taxi, flung open the door, and hustled me inside. The volume of questions didn’t lower until he closed the door. He barked a request to be taken to the station, muttered fuck several times, then stared out the window.

He’d been on the phone this morning when I’d come out from the shower. Could that have been Lily? Was he actually back with her?

“What’s going on, Stone?”

“No fucking idea. Sorry you had to go through that. Welcome to a glimpse of my public life.”

A wave of nausea hit me and I swallowed quickly, kept my breath steady until it passed.

“You must have some idea. I mean, the press wouldn’t just turn up like that.”

He shot me a scathing look, then switched his focus to the town sliding past the taxi window.

Something big had sparked the media and sent them in search of him. I decided to work on that, something solid to deal with rather than the doubts and horror I was feeling. But it was hard to suppress the gnawing feeling of having been stupid and used. What exactly had I imagined when I’d begun this weekend and ended up in Stone’s bed? That he really did have romantic feelings for me?

I opened the browser on my phone and had my answer in seconds. “Oh...okay, I see what’s happening.” My hands shook.

“Tell me.”

“Lily Clarke announced on breakfast television that her engagement to David is over and that the only man she loves, the only man she’s ever loved, is Stone Logan. Apparently, you two have reconciled.”

Stone swore again, then nothing. No explanation, no words of comfort, nothing to ease my own worries. My distress soon became humiliation. I could only blame myself. Stone came with a reputation, and I’d been warned off him from the start, but somehow, I’d managed to push all that aside and jump straight into his bed the moment he crooked his finger.

What a naïve, stupid woman I was. What on earth made me believe that Stone would choose somebody like me over Lily Clarke? God, she was everything I’d always wanted to be. Beautiful, a star, adored by everyone as a child. Then she managed to grow into an even more beautiful adult and snag herself not only a gorgeous rock star fiancée, but Stone Logan, too. She had a choice, and I had a memory that would always serve to remind me of how foolish I was capable of being.

There was only one thing I’d done right through this entire debacle. I’d honored the NDA, and my mother had no idea about my weekend of complete insanity.

Stone remained introspective, unable or unwilling to pick up on my hurt or comfort me. The words I wanted to hear, that everything would be fine, that it was a mistake, that he was over Lily, were less likely to come from him every mile we traveled. If he’d been going to say anything, he’d have given me some assurance in the first instance.

I stole a glance. He was on his phone, tapping out what was probably a sexy text to Lily. My stomach flipped again, and I wished at breakfast I’d stuck to dried toast rather than the creamy scrambled eggs I ate, because they weren’t settling well at all.

I felt nauseous, and stupid, and sad, and completely ill-equipped to deal with this.

We were nearing the station when Stone finally tucked his phone away, right at the moment my work phone pinged with an incoming message. It was probably Sarah. I guess she’d heard the news, too. She was most likely worried Stone had vanished with Lily somewhere cozy to consummate the renewal of their relationship.

I tugged my phone out of my bag, preparing myself for the new paddle that would stir my pot of emotions.

I wasn’t prepared for the message to be from Stone. I glanced at him as he steadfastly watched the back of our driver’s head. WTF? He was breaking up with me in a text when he was sitting right beside me.

I opened the message.

The book deal was off. Stone wasn’t going to finish the manuscript, and he didn’t care about being in violation of his contract. Anyone who wanted to could contact him through his lawyer. Everyone was copied on it—me, Sarah, his editor, Donald Mason, two people at his publishers, and some guy at a law firm.

The taxi crawled into the slow moving queue toward the passenger drop-off area. Once I’d triple-checked the message and come up each time with the same conclusion, I looked up. Stone watched me, his mouth hard, his eyes as dull as the concrete pavement.

“I’m sorry, Katrina.” He shrugged. “Can’t do it. The book, us—”

“I don’t understand,” I said, alarmed that he’d for once called me Katrina.

“It can’t work between us. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.”

My face burned with shame. All the sex jumbled into flashes, out of sequence, but each one as awful as the next. I’d let myself be used because in my head, I’d written a different script to the one that was playing out. He was a manwhore, the hookup guy, and I’d somehow managed to delude myself that with me, he was something more than that.

I flung my door open and stumbled out of the cab. Stone followed me quickly, paying the driver and taking our bags.

I would not fucking cry in front of him, but I needed a quiet bathroom stall where I could spend a moment getting my shit together, and, yes, probably crying.

My wheelie bag tipped to one side, capsizing on the ground because I’d tugged it so hard from Stone’s grip. “I think we should take separate train cars back,” I announced, my voice unnervingly strong.

“Fine,” he replied.

We approached the station entrance with twelve arctic inches separating us. For a moment, I hoped I was dreaming, but someone calling Stone’s name broke me out of that fantasy. “I need the bathroom,” I said.

He nodded. “I’ll wait at the ticket counter.”

I tried to keep my spine straight and walk with dignity, but I dragged my heart behind me with my bag.

There was only one first-class car, and Stone had swapped his ticket for a seat in the business section. I took a single seat at the far end of the car from where we’d sat only two days ago, close to where he’d ambushed me as I’d left the bathroom to pin me in the alcove. Kiss number two.

I curled in my seat, stared through the window, and saw nothing. I was numb, yet my body itched and wanted to be held. Between my legs was sore and bruised from all the sex. The back of my neck had a deep purple bruise and an exquisitely sore point where he’d bitten me. I hated him, and my heart broke because I wanted to travel back to yesterday and stop time.

My phone buzzed and pinged with messages, all ignored. I had no idea how to face Sarah. My future with FaithLit could probably be saved if I played this carefully, but I’d never get the talented clients I dreamed of on the back of being Stone Logan’s awesome media assistant. Worse, I’d probably be known as the person who failed to get the book out of him.

CJM wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole. I’d be back at the temping agency, begging for an envelope stuffing assignment if anyone would have me.

Rent was due.

I was a complete failure.

By the time we reached Penn Station, I had no plan beyond getting to the apartment to change into clothes my mother would approve of and making sure I arrived at her lunch on time.

Stone waited for me on the platform. If it was any consolation, he looked terrible.

“Is there anything you can say to me?” I asked carefully, hopefully, not trusting my voice because I wanted to rage at him and tell him I loved him.

He shook his head. “Let me get you a cab.”

I swallowed past the gunk in my throat. “The bus is fine. I’ll get going. Bye.” My words rushed out because the pressure building behind my eyes made them hot. I blinked furiously as I walked away, not wanting him to see me swipe at any tears trying to escape.

Every step I took, I waited for him to call to me. Isn’t that what happens in the movies? The begging for forgiveness, the declarations of love. By the time I reached my bus, I knew that my life wasn’t like the movies.

I was relieved to find the apartment empty, because I couldn’t explain to Carrie what had happened when I had yet to sort things out myself. The familiarity of my bedroom was comforting, and the draw of my bed, to curl up under the comforter and sleep for a few hours, was particularly powerful, given that I was expected at my parents for lunch in fewer than thirty minutes. Without a doubt, I was going to be late.

Good. That, and Clarissa’s arrival from college, should keep the focus away from anything but my tardiness when compared to my sister’s awesome ability to travel across three states and still be on time.

* * *

Mom met me at the door with a sour face and a bible quote on her apron.

“Your sister has been here for over an hour. We’re waiting for you so that we can start lunch.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been working.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Don’t lie.” She bent closer. I thought she was going to kiss me. I could smell her Lily of the Valley scent and her distinctive breath, she was that close. I thought about the other Lily and her valley, which I hoped Stone wasn’t already excavating. The thought made me so anxious I almost missed Mom’s next words.

“I saw the photo of you in Newport,” she hissed, her voice low as if she were revealing my dirtiest secret.

“It’s not what you think,” I said. It’s worse.

“Your father’s very upset. It’s so typical of you, Katrina, to try and outshine your sister, but believe me, associating yourself with a man like that just makes you look like a slut. Come and help me carry the food to the table.”

Because breaking my heart is the way I intend to outshine my sister.

I followed her to the kitchen. No stiff hug today. No barely touching lips against the flesh of my cheek. I carried a dish of steaming potatoes through to the dining room and greeted Dad. At least his hug showed no signs of how very upset he was with me. Clarissa looked self-satisfied, so nothing different there.

Dad gave thanks for the food and the opportunity to share it with his family, and I waited as others helped themselves to the customary Sunday dinner. A chicken, potatoes, and green vegetables, all cooked to the point of exhaustion. I would get the blame if they were overdone, which was pointless because they were always overdone. Carrots and parsnips withered on the final plate. I served myself a piece of chicken, a potato, and a few beans and waited for the gravy to be passed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Katrina. That wouldn’t feed a bird,” Mom said, pointing at my plate with her knife.

No matter what serving size I took, it always displeased her. Big or small, I would be accused of having an eating disorder at the corresponding end of the spectrum. “I had a large breakfast.”

“When you knew perfectly well you were coming here for lunch.”

She had a point, I guess, but at breakfast time, I was hungry and happy.

The chicken turned to a stringy mass in my mouth as I chewed. I sipped at my water and swallowed quickly, waiting for it to sit like a stone in my belly. My appetite was zero.

“You’re very quiet, darling,” my father remarked.

“I thought you’d have a lot to tell us...about work,” Clarissa added, earning herself a dark look from Mom.

“She’s ashamed, and rightly so,” Mom said.

I stabbed a bean.

Thankfully, Mom and Clarissa seemed more interested in church gossip, so I concentrated on forcing tiny forkfuls of food into my mouth. I wondered what Stone was doing. Was Lily at his house? Would she be kind to Buster? By the time lunch was over, I started eyeing the clock. I had a ready excuse that I needed to work and would be catching the 3:18 bus home. Only an hour to go. And as for work, I wasn’t sure that I still had a job.

“Come and help me with the dishes, Katrina.”

It didn’t matter what my mother slung my way. I remained protected by a numb barrier I’d been unable to shift. I’d dry the dishes and wipe benches and let her say her piece. Right now, she was incapable of hurting me.

“I’ve been waiting for you to explain to me about working for Mr. Logan.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.”

“Yet, when I phoned Cooper Johnson Management, they were quite happy to tell me where you were. You’ve been living up there with that…that...scandalous man. Are you deliberately trying to shame our family?”

I could have asked her the same question. But she didn’t want my explanation because she’d already drawn her own unmovable opinion. I stared at the soap bubbles that gathered and dangled from the handle of the pot until gravity took them to the floor.

“After church this morning, Felicity Filbert was showing everyone a video on a gossip website of you with that man coming out of a hotel in Newport. He had his arm around you. I’ve never felt so humiliated, Katrina. This is breaking your father to pieces. We didn’t bring you up to behave like a slut. A home wrecker. What were you thinking? That poor Lily Clarke, crying on television, wanting her boyfriend back.”

She shouldn’t have brought Lily into this. I might have made mistakes, but there was no relationship going on with Lily when Stone and I got together. I wanted to tell her about the restraining order and the fact that Lily and Stone had broken up well before I’d ever come on the scene. But why bother? Mom would only hear what she wanted to hear and twist anything I gave her into new ammunition to take me down.

I placed the serving platter I was drying on the counter and dropped my dish towel on top. “I haven’t done anything wrong, but you don’t want to hear that, so I’ll be on my way. I won’t discuss this with you, because it’s none of your business. Thank you for lunch. I’ll say goodbye to Dad and Clarissa on my way out.”

“I’ve told FaithLit you won’t be involved with their work anymore.”

There was a triumphant note in her parting shot. I told myself I didn’t need them. CJM still owed me some money for my work with Stone. I’d get by and develop my own business without any outside help.

The rain started halfway through the cheerless bus ride home. I had no coat or umbrella and arrived back at the apartment wet, cold and miserable.