“You should take the rest of the day off, Rissa. I’ll cover the office.”
She looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “Why?”
“Because the third round of voting is a go. We’ve already had more traffic in the first few hours than we did in the first week of last round’s vote. And because . . . because it’s sunny outside. Do we need another reason?”
“Maybe because you’re trying to get me out of here so I don’t call you on the carpet and ask why Grayson’s bio is the same one I saw you working on in longhand and the photo is from the party?” She lifts her eyebrows and meets my gaze. “Perhaps?”
“Perhaps, but it was simply a matter of circumstance. We didn’t get him on board until too late and”—the look she gives me stops me in my tracks—“and I’ll stop my excuse about now.” She gives a measured nod. “I can’t control someone else. All I can do is cajole and persuade and inform and do my best. So, while I try to get all that to work, I’m busy trying to master all the other things you’ve told me are important to know.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. “Such as?”
“Edie is showing me the process by which she goes through editing content. Fran has put together a little tutorial on graphics and resizing because I struggle there, and in turn, I’m explaining how I track my progress through the statistics, so she understands. Then there’s—”
“Point made, Sidney.” She shakes her head. “On that note, I’m heading home.”
She doesn’t waste any time grabbing her stuff and heading to the door before something happens that I can’t handle and change my mind.
For the rest of the afternoon, I sit and watch the numbers the first day of voting brings in. I stay and make sure that nothing goes wrong with the site—no glitches or missing links or whatever else could go wrong. By the time I’m happy that we’ve had a successful launch and am ready to leave, I realize I don’t want to go home to an empty house. An empty house means I’ll end up working. Working means I’ll think of Grayson.
And Grayson is . . . who knows what Grayson is, other than a jerk for what he said to me yesterday.
Normally after a great day, Zoey and I would live it up some. Go out for drinks and a night on the town. Dance with some men, and maybe end up with one when closing time came.
I may not have Zoey by my side, and I may have no interest in taking some random guy home with me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go out and have a drink, right?
I force myself to leave, if only because I refuse to spend the night at the office doing the exact thing I’m worried I’d do alone at my house.
As I drive through downtown Sunnyville, with its rustic storefronts where the word “wine” can be seen somewhere in every window display, I realize my night on the town most definitely is not going to happen here. But I park the car under the big banner advertising the upcoming Harvest Festival and get out to walk around like the many tourists milling about. I poke my head into a few stores, buy some handmade soap, get a bouquet of flowers, and pick up a cute bracelet to send Zoey for her birthday.
A few people smile knowingly at me, as if they are asking with their eyes if the gossip column is true, but I feign that I don’t see them so I don’t have to acknowledge the question.
“Sidney!” I turn to find Cathy stepping out from the nail salon I just passed.
“Hey.”
“We need to stop meeting like this on the street.” She laughs as she glances to her freshly painted toes, which still have twisted paper towels between them so her polish doesn’t smudge. “Or else gossip around town is going to be that we’re streetwalkers.” Her eyes widen as she waits for me to get the joke, and then she laughs even louder when I just shake my head.
“Cute, but more rumors are the last thing I need.”
“Sometimes they’re good for the soul.”
Moving on . . .
“How are you?”
“I’m good. I’m good.” Someone across the street calls out to her, and she waves before turning back to me. “But not as good as you’re doing, I see.”
Yeah, I should have known better than to think she would drop it. “The newspaper.”
“The newspaper.” She nods. “You made a lot of ladies in that line awfully pissed that a newcomer snagged the last Malone and not one of us.” I opt to ignore the “newcomer” comment since she knows I did, in fact, grow up here, and her distinctive laugh sounds off. People walking by turn their heads at its cadence, and I duck my head slightly.
“I didn’t snag him. It really was just a picture taken at the right time, and—”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to make excuses to me. This whole town is abuzz with the news.” She pats my arm. “How did you think I knew you were out here? Ol’ Patsy from the soap shop said something to Kira as she was walking by, and then Kira came into the nail salon. It’s like the grown-up game of telephone in these parts.”
“It’s comforting to know my whereabouts are being tracked so diligently,” I say teasingly as we both step back out of the middle of the sidewalk so people can pass. “I can assure you that everything was taken out of context. The hero thing. The party. The kiss.”
“At least Grayson is having some fun for a change,” she says, talking right over my explanation as if I didn’t utter a word. “He had a rough go of it when Claire left town.”
“Claire?” Wait. What? “As in Claire Hoskin, Claire?”
“Mm-hmm. Didn’t you know she’s Luke’s mother?”
“No. I didn’t.” My mind stumbles over the information. The beauty queen of Sunnyville and one of my closest friends back in high school. Claire is Luke’s mom? Claire was with Grayson? She’s the one who walked out on them?
I try to hide my shock as I look over at a group of teenagers who are sitting outside of the convenience store at the end of the street. They screech playfully, and I can almost picture us there, doing the same thing, when we were that age.
Claire. Gorgeous. Conceited . . . but couldn’t the same things have been said about me?
Realization strikes. The kind that makes your jaw fall lax and forces you to blink to make sure you’re right.
Grayson sees me as Claire. A “walks like a duck and talks like a duck” type of thing. No wonder he hates me.
When the thoughts settle, I’m left with Cathy staring at me with her brow furrowed and her smile frozen as if she just said something she shouldn’t but can’t wait to say more.
“I had no idea he was with Claire. I left Sunnyville after graduation and never looked back.”
“Yeah, it’s a long story, which the majority of us around here don’t know the half of, I’m sure. You know how money can keep lips from getting loose, don’t you?” She waves a hand my way as if the story is inconsequential. “Anyhoo, I’m sure he’ll tell you when the time’s right in your relationship.”
“I told you, we aren’t—”
“Like I said, if any man deserves a break and something more than a little mindless twisting of his sheets, it would be Grayson “Make Me Moan” Malone. First his suspension from flying at work, when we all know he’s a hero and then everything with Luke yesterday . . . The guy can sure use a little Sidney sunshine in his life.”
“What do you mean? What happened with Luke yesterday?”
“Oh my, you don’t know?”
“Don’t go clutching your pearls on me, Cathy,” I say when she lifts a hand to her chest. “What happened?”
“He was in a fight at school.”
“About?”
She looks around as if she’s about to get in trouble for talking, and the simple action has dread dropping into my stomach. “Well, someone teased him about that picture in the paper—the one of you two—and one thing led to another about his mom not wanting him, and boom, he threw the first punch.”
“Regardless of what you might think, not everything is about you, Princess.”
Grayson had been trying to tell me he wasn’t canceling because of something I had done or said. I was just too wrapped up in myself to listen.
God, maybe I am every bit as selfish as everyone keeps implying. As Grayson keeps saying without coming right out and throwing it in my face.
“Little boy is just like his father. Willing to fight for love. How does it feel having two men—Grayson and Luke—love you at the same time?”
Her words snap me from my thoughts, and I mumble some kind of generic response. Even if I refute her, she will argue with me. I take a step backward. “It was good seeing you again, Cathy, but I have to run. Drinks next time?”
“You know I’m definitely in.”
I head toward my car, my mind a confused mess.
That damn picture.
It only serves to prove my dad right. That I act before I think, without taking anyone else around me into consideration.
The heat from my dad over the photo was just another reprimand in a long line of them. It’s water off my back.
The pang of remorse I feel when it comes to Luke, though, is a whole different ballgame that I’m not sure how to process.
My actions caused him to be bullied and teased. To throw a punch in defense. He’s hurting, and it’s all because I acted in haste without thought to anyone else who might be affected.
Feeling like shit is putting it mildly.