by Tawna Fenske
But that’s what this felt like. Like he’d been lied to by someone he’d cared about, slept with, laughed with, loved.
Only in this case, it wasn’t his ex-wife.
As he turned and found Kate in the crowd, he focused on her again. She met his gaze, not blinking at all. Her face might seem expressionless to anyone who didn’t know her well, but Jonah knew her a helluva lot better than well.
At least he thought he had.
Maybe he’d been kidding himself. Maybe the remorse in her eyes was all for show. For the show—this goddamn, stupid reality-TV show.
He watched as she twisted one hand in the ruffled hem of her coat. She was blinking hard, and he wondered if it was the lights or the chlorine or some real show of emotion.
It couldn’t be real. None of this was real.
Her mouth moved then, but no sound came out. Even so, Jonah could make out the words.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, so tired all of a sudden that he couldn’t bring himself to respond. To even look at Kate anymore. He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of wet stones and crushed fern while anger pounded so hard in his brain that his teeth clacked together.
“Fuck you,” he muttered.
In that moment, he didn’t know who he hated more. Kate? Viv?
Himself?
“Fuck you,” he said again, tossing the dark net of sentiment over all three of them. “I’m done.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Jonah, wait!”
Kate scrambled down the hall after him, slipping in the wet puddles of his footsteps. She regained her footing and kept after him, watching as he stormed toward the powder room just off the foyer. She felt the floor shake as he pushed the door open.
“Leave me alone, Kate!”
“Jonah, please—”
He slammed the door in her face.
A noise behind her made Kate turn. At the end of the hall, Pete stood with his camera trained on her. On the whole scene that had just transpired.
Of course.
The dramatic, impassioned exit of a reality show superstar. It was the biggest ratings grabber on the planet.
“Pete,” Kate said calmly. “I’m going to ask you nicely to shut the camera off and leave the room.”
“Sorry, Kate.” He sounded genuinely sorry, but that didn’t stop him from zooming in for a close-up. “Boss’s orders.”
“Pete,” she said again, her voice remarkably calm even though her hands were shaking. “I’m going to start counting now. If you’re not gone by the time I get to ten, I’m going to shove that camera so far up your ass you’ll have footage of your tonsils.”
He blanched a little at that, then lowered the camera. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but you know the drill,” he said. “This is the job.”
“Believe me, I know. And I sympathize.” Her breath caught a little there, and she wondered if he had any idea just how much she sympathized. How deep she’d gotten into all this.
Amy knew, thank God. She’d been the one ordering everyone to stay put when Jonah had stormed off set, sloshing water onto the sound equipment as he marched across the cold cobblestone path.
“Hold your places, everyone,” Amy had shouted as Kate tore across the patio on Jonah’s heels. “Kate’s the one on our legal rider who’s licensed to deal with situations like this. Plus she has advanced training in meltdown management.”
It was total bullshit, but what did it matter? Amy was keeping everyone at bay for the moment.
Well, everyone but Pete.
Kate glared at the cameraman. “Pete,” she warned, glancing at the camera. It was still rolling, even if it wasn’t perched on his shoulder. “One, two, three . . .”
Pete rested one grizzly-bear paw on the edge of a built-in shelf, looking conflicted. He glanced back at the door behind him as though expecting Chase Whitfield to come charging through at any moment and fire him.
Kate could feel his pain. But she could feel her own a lot more vividly at the moment.
“. . . four, five, six . . .”
She gritted her teeth and stared at the camera, wondering if she’d really do it. If she had it in her to break an expensive piece of equipment or risk her job. At this point anything seemed possible. She wanted to break something or smash something or—
“Um, Kate?”
She glared at Pete. “What?”
“I think your man just got away.”
She whirled around just in time to see headlights flick on, followed by the rev of an engine. As she started toward the door, she heard gravel churning and the squeal of tires.
“Goddammit!”
She started toward the door but knew it was too late. Yanking a bobby pin from her hair, she stuck it in the lock on the powder room door and jimmied it open. Pushing her way inside, she spotted a trail of water leading to the door that opened onto the carport. She’d forgotten about the damn door.
“Fuck!”
She stared at the wet footprints on Viv’s otherwise spotless wood floors. Then she turned back to Pete. “Did he just take off barefoot in his wet shorts?”
“He was pretty mad.”
Kate balled her hands into fists and closed her eyes, wishing she could hit rewind on the whole evening. On so many other things.
She opened her eyes and turned to face Pete again. “Why don’t you get packed up,” she said slowly. “We’re done here for now.”
“Will do.” He seemed to hesitate. “Are you okay?”
Kate nodded, but didn’t say anything. She was gritting her teeth too hard. Pete continued watching her, looking leery about leaving her alone.
“Good work today,” she said at last, straightening up. A lock of hair fell across her forehead, and she thought about putting the bobby pin back in place. Did it even matter? “It was a long day. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
Pete still didn’t say anything, but he watched her face like he wasn’t sure what to do next. She could hear the chatter of voices outside on the patio, probably crew members who’d noticed Jonah’s escape.
But here in the entryway, it was just the two of them—her and Pete—with sympathy warming the cameraman’s dark-brown eyes.
“It’s not your fault, Kate,” he said softly. “You did what you had to do.”
She swallowed hard, wondering how much he actually understood. She dug her fingernails into her palms, willing herself to stay calm. To be professional.
“This is so much worse than you think.”
Kate wasn’t sure what made her whisper those words. Maybe something about the kindness in the cameraman’s face.
“I understand.” Pete set the camera on the shelf beside him and rubbed his knuckles through his beard. “I have eyes, Kate. I see more than you think I do.”
She shook her head, certain that couldn’t be true. “No.”
“Why do you think I wouldn’t film that first blindside in Viv’s office? The one where they told her about the divorce.” He cleared his throat. “Why do you think I talked Chase out of having my crew tail you last week?”
Kate squeezed her eyes shut, not sure she could handle any more revelations. Not sure she had the strength to go back out there and talk to the crew. When she opened her eyes, Pete was watching her with a tenderness that made her chest ache.
“We do what we can to cushion the blow,” Pete said. “To bring some humanity to this business. But beyond that, we do what the job requires.”
“I know,” she replied. “But knowing doesn’t make it suck less.”
“Sucking is part of life.”
She snorted. “That’s for damn sure.”
Pete gave her a small smile. “We sound like self-help gurus.”
Kate choked on a mirthless little laugh as her heart twisted tight in her chest. “Yeah,” she muttered. “We should have a TV show.”
Two hours later, Kate leaned back against the headboard of her hotel bed and picked up her phone.
“Stop doing that.” Amy snatched the phone from her hand and set it on the nightstand. In its place, she stuck a cheap hotel wineglass between Kate’s fingers. “Drink up.”
“I want a beer.”
“No, you don’t,” Amy said. “You want Jonah, so you’re trying to find him in liquid form.”
“That’s deep.”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when I spend sixteen hours a day hanging around a bunch of shrinks and self-help fanatics.”
Amy scooted herself across the bed and slid into place beside Kate. Lifting her own wineglass, she took a sip. Kate watched her, grateful for the friendship even if she wasn’t in the mood for a drink.
She set her untouched wineglass on the nightstand, using the excuse to glance at her phone again. There was still no reply from Jonah. No indication he’d gotten any of her text messages or voicemails or—
“Stop staring at it,” Amy said. “He’s not going to message you when he’s pissed. Don’t you remember that? ‘Average Joe’s temper can run hot, so we’re careful not to start conversations when one of us might say something regrettable.’”
“God.” Kate closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. “Please say you didn’t just quote Viv at me.”
“The woman knows her shit. Especially when it comes to Jonah.”
That wasn’t much comfort to Kate, but it was probably true. She sighed and picked up her wine. It tasted a little like cat pee, but not in a bad way.
“Marlborough sauvignon blanc,” Amy said. “It’s my favorite.”
“Thanks.”
Kate took another sip, then set the glass down again. “I just keep thinking I could have done something differently. If I’d gotten them to hold off on springing things on Jonah, or maybe if I’d worked harder to convince Chase that—”
“Kate, no. You did your job.”
“I did my job like an asshole.”
Amy shook her head. “You’re one of the few compassionate professionals I’ve met in this business. Don’t beat yourself up. This field is filled with people whose idea of compassion is making sure the knife is extra-sharp before slipping it between your ribs.”
She shook her head, not mollified by Amy’s words. “I knew there was a line I shouldn’t cross,” she said. “And I hurled my whole body over it like the damn thing was on fire.”
“You didn’t exactly throw yourself at him,” Amy said. “The two of you were equally gaga for each other. He’s just as culpable as you were.”
Kate clenched her hands in her lap. “Maybe if I hadn’t slept with him. If I hadn’t fallen in love with him.”
The words caught them both by surprise. Even Amy looked startled. “Wow. I knew you really liked him, but—wow.”
“Goddammit.” Kate shut her eyes. Now that the truth was out there, it didn’t hurt any less. It hurt more, if that was possible.
A buzzing on the nightstand sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. Kate opened her eyes and fumbled for the phone, hands shaking so hard she knocked it off the edge.
“I’ve got it.” Amy scrambled off the bed and dropped to her hands and knees, wedging her arm into the space between the bed frame and the nightstand. “I can almost reach it—”
She sat up in triumph, handing the phone over to Kate without glancing at the screen.
Kate loved her friend more in that moment than she ever had.
“What does it say?” Amy asked.
Jonah.
Kate studied the words, lips moving as she read them silently to herself once, twice, then one more time to be sure. Her heart squeezed into a tight, painful knot as tears clogged her throat. She knew she’d never be able read the message aloud, so she handed the phone to Amy without comment.
“According to my contract,” Amy read, “I’m entitled to five days of sick leave per season and ten days of vacation time. Effective immediately, I’m taking all fifteen consecutively. My attorney has reviewed the contract and assures me that’s legal, and that he’ll be working around the clock to figure out how to get me out of this ridiculous sham of a show. Have a nice life, Kate.”
Amy handed the phone back, and Kate felt a tear slip down one cheek.
“He’s angry,” Amy said, sliding an arm around her. “Give him time to cool down.”
Kate shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Think about how many people’s livelihoods are on the line. How many people are depending on the whole team to show up on set tomorrow.”
“So what are you going to do?” Amy asked.
Kate took a steadying breath, trying to get her bearings. Trying to decide whether to throw in the towel or keep flinging herself at the wall.
She looked up at Amy and felt emboldened by the earnestness in her expression.
“Same thing I always do,” Kate said. “I’m going to take Dr. Viv’s advice.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kate stood on Jonah’s doorstep, breathing in and out, watching raindrops spatter on rhododendron leaves that looked silver under the streetlight. She clenched her fists at her sides, steeling herself to knock.
“There’s nothing braver than facing your own fears. Having the difficult conversation instead of running away.”
The words echoed in her head, and it annoyed Kate to be standing here in the rain with Viv’s voice in her ears. She tried to recall which book they’d come from. On the Other Hand? But Not Broken?
Hell, maybe she’d made them up herself.
She was still trying to figure it out when the door flew open.
“Jonah.”
She swallowed hard and looked at him, trying to remember the speech she’d been rehearsing in her head. Something about forgiveness and professional obligations and—
“I said I didn’t want to talk, Kate,” he said. “I know you don’t have a helluva lot of respect for other people’s wishes, but this is flat-out trespassing.”
The anger in his words made her throat squeeze up, but she swallowed hard to make her voice work. “I’m not here to defend myself,” she said, even though a tiny part of her wanted to do just that. “I just wanted to explain what happened. Why I had to follow orders when it came to—”
“Right, of course.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame. “Because you’re such a rule follower?”
She swallowed again, ignoring the raindrop that slithered down the side of her neck. “Acting in the best interest of the show is my job,” she said.
“Even when it comes at the expense of the people involved with the show?”
She balled her hands in the pockets of her jacket and forced herself to hold eye contact. “Jonah, you have to believe my hands were tied.” Her voice sounded tear choked, and she struggled to get it under control. “I did everything I could to convince them not to go through with it. To do the right thing. I tried to tell them it was a bad idea.”
“To make me look like a dumbass on national television? To blindside me with the news that I fucked up my own divorce, and I’m still technically married to the esteemed Dr. Brandt?”
“No one meant for you to look like a dumbass,” she said.
Jonah sighed. He looked more sad than angry, but the dark edge in his voice told her there was a mix of both. “Kate, what was the one thing I asked for when I agreed to do the show?”
“Besides money?”
It was a bit of a jab, but she had to put that out there. To remind him that his involvement in the program wasn’t just some benevolent gesture on his part. That there was something else at stake here. A chance to help his sister, to make a difference in her life.
Jonah glared but didn’t take the bait. “I wanted a chance to repair my image,” he said. “To stop looking like the idiot buffoon and have a chance to contribute something meaningful.”
“You did contribute something meaningful,” she said. “Those couples—”
“Are having a good laugh at my expense,” he said. “The dyslexic dumbshit who can’t even file
his own divorce papers right.”
“Jonah, no. It could happen to anyone.”
“But not on national television,” he said. “You could have chosen to handle it privately.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Kate shook her head, hating the hurt in his eyes more than the anger in his voice. “I did my best to stop the train wreck. I even thought about forging signatures. Trying to push your divorce through so no one would ever have to know.”
“Forgery?” Jonah shook his head and looked at her with disgust. “A felony is your idea of doing the right thing?”
Kate gritted her teeth. “I said I considered it,” she said. “I didn’t do it. But I did try to stop them from going this direction. I explained to them what you’d shared with me about wanting to move out of Viv’s shadow.”
“So that’s what it was all about?” He snorted. “It all makes sense now. Sleep with me to get the dirt to make the show better.”
Rain lashed the leaves behind her, sending a trickle of ice water down her neck. She wished he’d invite her inside, but knew that wasn’t going to happen. “That’s not why I slept with you,” she said softly. “That’s not what happened at all.”
It was almost like he didn’t hear her. “God, to think I actually believed that was real.”
“It was real, Jonah. You have to know that.”
He frowned as if a new thought had just occurred to him. “Wait. Was this planned out from the start? When we met in Ashland that first time—”
“Of course not!” Kate snapped, stung by the accusation. “I was as surprised as you were when you showed up at Viv’s house that first day. I had no idea who you were, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to fall for you.”
“When did you know about the divorce?” he demanded.
Kate fumbled around in her brain. Not for the date, but for the wording in her contract. Was that a detail she couldn’t reveal? She couldn’t be sure.
“I can’t say,” she said softly.
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Can’t,” she repeated. “Look, I couldn’t say anything. I still can’t say too much about—”