Love Reality

by Nana Malone

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, she’s not going to get away with this shit anymore. Not if I can help it.” He had an article to finish.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “What now?”

  The words kept playing over and over in Mia’s skull. She loved him. But being with Ryan would mean wholly trusting him with her heart. Could she do that? Open up to someone again?

  Haven’t you already?

  David had been a nice guy, and he’d broken her heart. Ryan had made it clear from the beginning that he wasn’t the settle down or relationship type. But he acted like he wanted to be with her. So did David. He’d asked her to give him a chance. And most importantly, he’d taught her about risk taking. Maybe this was a risk she could take. In more ways than one. She’d already turned in the proposal for Lonely Girl Lives, but since her date with Ryan in Chinatown, she’d been thinking about another show entirely. She’d avoided doing anything family oriented. It was usually too painful to open up those wounds. But maybe now she was ready. Besides, if she did a show about the Donovans, it would be about love.

  Her fingers lightly skimmed the keys of her keyboard. She was supposed to have had her “Lonely Girl” blog up hours ago. Several of her avid readers had already emailed looking for it. But, for once, she felt like she had no story to tell. Or rather one that was too personal to tell. She’d have to get used to being a more personal story teller.

  All her life she’d learned not to expose her emotions. If she didn’t let anyone get too close or see that she cared, she couldn’t get hurt. Or at least when they left or rejected her it would hurt less. Because at least they wouldn’t see how badly she wanted something.

  But with Ryan, it was different. She wanted to be open with him. That first date with him had been like magic. The kismet kind of thing people talked about in books. That perfect sort of interaction where she forgot to be guarded and distant.

  Someone like him wasn’t supposed to happen to someone like her. She was supposed to meet and fall in love with Mr. Dependable. Mr. Stable. The good guy. The one who would never leave. The one who would never hurt her. He existed…out there somewhere.

  He also bored the gills off of her. Ryan was exciting and thrilling and made her body want to do things. And he terrified her because he could hurt her. She didn’t want to be safe with him.

  So what’s it going to be, Mia, jump off a cliff and enjoy the ride down or find Mr. Stable and Dependable and protect your heart?

  Her head screamed “safe.” But her heart and body screamed “jump, jump, jump” like drunken frat boys at a kegger willing her to tumble into stupid oblivion. And just like that skydive, she wanted to do it all over again.

  Just as she picked up her phone to text him, she got another email notification to her inbox, subject: “LG, Have you seen this?”

  It was from one of her followers who’d been reading the blog since day one. She clicked the link and immediately wished she hadn’t. The heading alone made her stomach roll. The Unlovable Girl that is Lonely Girl. Byline, Matthew Ryan.

  Her world tilted on its axis. The stable ground below her now felt as if she was attempting to walk on shifting waves in snowshoes. Everything spun as vertigo hit.

  It was from the Post.

  No, please no. Please, please, please no.

  She willed it, wished, it wanted it. But no amount of thought projection could change the byline from Matthew Ryan to some other name. There it was in bold letters Sans Serif font for her to see.

  Do not read it. Close the laptop. Go get Larissa and take a walk. Get up. You can do it. Call out sick. Go home, hole up. It didn’t matter the instructions her brain doled out. Her eyes first scanned then read the story in depth.

  Lonely Girl No More, or so the producers of Love Reality would have you think. The producers showed their brilliance in garnering top blogger Lonely Girl as their Cinderella this season. While the move was brilliant marketing, their plan was flawed, because for all her searching, Lonely Girl will never find her mate, even in a pool of thirty to choose from. She will always choose to be alone because she, at the core, believes herself unlovable.

  Oh God. Her stomach heaved, and in the nick of time, she pulled out her garbage bin from underneath her desk. But thanks to a knotted stomach thinking about Ryan this morning, she hadn’t eaten a thing, so nothing to vomit. Instead, dry heaves claimed her, racking her body with pain and nausea.

  Once she was sure she wasn’t actually going to throw up, she scanned the article again.

  It talked about her past in foster homes from place to place and how rejected and alone she’d felt. That while she’d always been looking for love she’d never be satisfied with it because in the end, she didn’t believe she deserved it, so she’d always been looking.

  So this was what it felt like to be forcibly stripped naked and walked down Sixth Avenue with all the world watching. Ryan went on to talk about how the show and how her blog perpetuated the stereotype of Cinderella romance but ignored the reality there was no real connection to be made and highlighted that she knew that. But that thread of hope that was her family and the people who adopted her and the idea of perfect love that was spoon-fed to all little girls is what kept her looking.

  A burning started in her heart, and Mia rubbed at the spot. His article then went on to outline the facade of the show and Jamie’s role in it. Most of what she read was about Jamie and pointed out the contestants who should have stayed on, including Victor. But at the end he wrote: But even in the abyss of loneliness, Lonely Girl and Single Guy will continue on the search for love because, in the end, connection is the ultimate goal, knowing there is someone out there who understands you and cares about you anyway, and that is why Lonely Girl and the women like her are braver than I.

  Tears welled before she knew it, and she sniffed hard in an attempt to keep them at bay. How could he write that ending after baring her to the public like that? Easy, the same way he thought he could ask you “what next” when he knew this article was coming out.

  He didn’t love her.

  Out of all the betrayal and rejection she’d felt in her life, this was the one that hurt the most.

  All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. But the fates were not kind to her today. Jamie appeared in her doorway.

  “J-Jamie, what can I do for you?”

  “Oh, nothing. I’m just here to speak with you briefly.”

  “Uh, okay. Do you want to go into the conference room?”

  Jamie’s smile was beatific, but there was a twist to it that seemed a little evil. “Actually, we can do this here.”

  Just what she always needed…to be fired with her office door wide open. So not on her list of things to do today. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

  A small crease marred her boss’s otherwise smooth forehead, as if her acceptance of whatever was to come was sort of a disappointment. What, like she was going to roll on the floor kicking a tantrum?

  Jamie recovered quickly. “Your show has been shelved.”

  The breath she’d been holding, along with any remaining air in her lungs, whooshed out as her gut twisted. “What do you mean shelved?”

  “I mean that Lonely Girl is not going to be produced here. At least not by you in the current format. The production team will take another look at it and retool it to see if it works, but you won’t be getting the production credit you were looking for.”

  Fury forced her voice into a lower register. “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, I can. You should really read the fine print of your contracts. Your show is undergoing a significant retool. It won’t even resemble your show anymore once I’m done with it. There’s nothing that will be Mia Donovan about it. It’ll be a winner.” Jamie turned to stalk off.

  Mia stopped her. “That’s a load of shit. This was your plan all along.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I saw something in you. Som
ething that made me think you were ambitious. But you chose to follow a guy around, and you couldn’t keep your legs closed, so this is the result. I told you to stay away from Ryan.”

  Oh hell, did she know about that? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t you? I know you were with him two nights ago. There’s nothing the two of you do that I don’t know about. It’s amazing the kind of information you can get when you slip the doorman a little something. And before you have a little outburst and think you’ll quit the show, you’re obligated to do the final taping. And you’ll do as you’re told. Otherwise, I will blackball you in this industry. I know you think you’ll just do something else. But I’ve read that proposal. I know how much your own show means to you. I’ve read your blog, not just the “Lonely Girl” entries, but the personal ones. I’ve listened to your dates. I know what your own show means to you. I make a few calls, and any chance you think you have goes poof.”

  Mia felt ill. How had she ever thought she wanted to be anything like this woman? Now the one thing she’d worked her whole career for was out of reach.

  Numbness. That was it. Mia couldn’t move. Couldn’t escape. Her body she couldn’t feel, but her heart, now that, she was distinctly aware of. The molten burning of her heart she could feel like it was going to rupture.

  This was it. Jamie had just shot her plan B to shit. All this time she’d thought she had an out, but Jamie could and would destroy her. Mia couldn’t muster any feeling though. All she could register was that burn in her chest cavity, threatening to set her on fire and turn her to ash from the inside.

  How had she let this happen? She was smart. She hadn’t trusted Jamie, but she’d thought she could navigate the trenches. This was all supposed to be so easy. Simple. All she had to do to get her dream realized. Something that she could show that she was worthy of love. Worthy of all the good things that had happened to her. To prove that her abandonment had been a big mistake. She’d put all her emotional eggs into one basket and worked so hard. Now that was all over. Done. Now what the hell did she have?

  The fire from inside started to thaw the icy exterior, but she mentally grasped for the icy cold. She didn’t want to feel anything. In the distance, she heard a click clack-clickitey clack. It was only after a moment that she realized it was someone snapping in front of her eyes.

  Mia blinked slowly, unable to put the image in her mind with the sound. As the clickety clack became clearer, so did the image of Larissa snapping her fingers in front of her face. The numbness receded, and with the shift of cold to hot, the burning pain in her chest spread to her extremities and deep inside to her soul.

  “You’re scaring me, honey bunny. Look at me.” Larissa’s voice was all no nonsense as usual, but laced with the “snap out of it” was a note of concern.

  Mia flicked her gaze to her best friend, then back down to the cup of coffee in front of her. Her mouth moved of its own volition, as if her brain had taken over automatic functions again while her soul picked up the shattered pieces.

  “What? I look like an amateur to you? It’s hot chocolate.” Larissa leaned in and whispered, “I added some Bailey’s from my desk. You look like you could use it. I’m worried you’re going into shock.”

  Shock, yeah, that was a good word for it. Shock. More like internal Armageddon, but yeah, sure, shock worked just as well. Though inadequate.

  “What gave me away?”

  Larissa eased down on her desk and gave Mia the broken girl eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, the glazed-eyed starlet look, the posture, stiffer than morning wood. Add to that the evil bitch monster’s cruel bitchiness and what that asshole did, and I’d have climbed into a bottle of Jack by now. But unmovable Mia, strong as ever, you’re still kicking.”

  The burning in Mia’s body finally made it to her tear ducts, and the sting forced her to squeeze her eyes shut.

  Larissa stood and tugged her with her. Mia dragged her eyes open, blinking away the shimmering tears. Her friend grabbed the hot chocolate and took Mia’s hand, dragging her through the hallway, past the curious onlookers. They passed the elevators and the other first floor offices; Larissa didn’t stop until they exited the back of the building into the back alley.

  When the door clicked behind them, she handed Mia the cup and insisted she take three long pulls. When Mia was done, Larissa stood in front of her and said, “That’s my girl, now, throw the cup.”

  “W-what?”

  “You heard me, throw it. Chuck it hard.”

  “I’m not going to throw it, Riss.”

  “You better do it. Otherwise, I’m calling your mom to come get you. You need to get some of this shit out. If not, you’re going to shut down and go all catatonic on me, and I gotta tell you, I have a shitty bedside manner. That happens, and I call Mommy parental. ’Cause I do not do nervous breakdown. I do angry-breakdown-burn-his-shit-in-a-big-bonfire like a pro. First step is throwing something.”

  Mia’s lips twitched, even though the last thing on earth she felt like doing was laughing. Riss was full of shit. Her best friend had compassion in spades. She just hid behind the tough exterior. “You’re full of crap.”

  Larissa shrugged. “Maybe, but you’re still going to throw that cup. And when you’re done with that, we’re going to beat the hell out of those cardboard boxes over there. Then we’re going to go get Delilah and get you well and proper shit-faced.”

  “It’s barely noon, Riss.”

  Her friend arched a delicate eyebrow. “First of all, when did that ever stop us in college? Second, the occasion calls for it. Third, hashtag five o’clock somewhere. Now throw.”

  Mia glanced at the cup in her hands. The fury, anger, shame, sadness and pain that lay just beneath the surface clawed its way up, needing to be released. Sucking in a deep breath, she threw the cup against the dumpster with every ounce of energy she could muster.

  The cup pelted the dumpster and flew back in their direction.

  Larissa jumped out of the way. “Holy hell, girl, where did you learn to throw like that?”

  “My brothers insisted I learn how to throw. They made me play softball when I was little.”

  Her friend grinned. “Then that means you know what to do with this.” She handed her a pipe of some sort.

  Mia scrunched her face. “Riss, we don’t know where this thing has been.”

  Her friend rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so prissy. Take this, and let’s kill some cardboard boxes. For once, let it all out. Don’t be afraid to show your emotions. You’re pissed, so be pissed in a completely healthy way. Then we go back inside, and you be the badass I know you can be. But if you keep it bottled, it’s going to make you sick. Now, let’s take on the big packing box over there. If I’d had more advanced warning, I’d have painted a picture on the target.”

  Mia flexed her hand on the pipe. Normally, she didn’t condone violence, but sometimes it just felt good to throw a tantrum. She smiled up at her friend. “Batter up.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Ryan stretched as he made his way from customs to the parking lot. His stupid flight had been delayed with the passengers sitting on the tarmac for three hours. To make matters worse, his damn phone was dead. He needed to check in with Chris then he needed to call Mia. He’d been a dumbass the other night, giving her an out like he had. He knew her well enough by now. He should have just told her he loved her and that he had no intention of going anywhere. That way, it would have all been out there, but instead, he’d played it safe. Dumbass.

  He plugged his phone in as soon as he slid into his driver’s seat, but it took several minutes for it to come back online. Before he could even make a call, several voicemails and texts lit up his screen.

  The first text was from Mia: Miss you.

  His gut knotted then warmth spread through his body. He liked it that she’d missed him. Hell, he loved it. Loved her.

  There was a voicemail from Chris: “Don’t freak out. Call me when you land.
I’m sorry.”

  He frowned. What the hell was she sorry about? In the four years he’d known her, she’d never apologized for anything. In fact, her favorite saying these days was “Sorry, not sorry.”

  The next call was from Reece. “Hey, little brother. I’m proud of you, but uh, are you sure this was the best way to go about it?”

  What the fuck? The last voicemail was from Larissa. “You’re a dead man.”

  He swerved to avoid a taxi on the FDR as he speed-dialed Chris.

  She answered on the first ring. “Bold move, but great job.”

  Ryan frowned. “You want to tell me what the fuck is going on? I’ve got a ton of voicemails.”

  There was a beat of silence. “What’s wrong with you? For a guy who just got what he wanted, I thought you’d be a lot happier.”

  “Shit, Chris. I just got off the plane. I’m bone tired, and I just sent you the article. I need you to spell shit out for me right now.”

  “What do you mean you just sent me the article? I got your flash drive this morning. We put the first piece of it up on the website already. We’ll post the second half on Friday, along with the spread we do in the paper.”

  What the fuck? An icy fist clutched around his heart. “Christine, I swear to God, I don’t know that you’re talking about. I just sent you the article with the latest information on Victor.”

  She was silent. “Then who the fuck wrote that piece I posted this morning?”

  “What did it say?” A cold sweat popped on his brow. “Chris?”

  “You—the article, it goes after Mia pretty hard.”

  He certainly hadn’t written it, and Chris didn’t seem to have any knowledge. She thought he’d turned the story in early. His gut twisted. He had to talk to Mia. He didn’t know what it said, but if his suspicions were right, then it wouldn’t be good.

  His heart raced, and his lungs barely inflated with short choppy breaths. “Yank it from the site, Chris. I didn’t write it.”