The third showed Sawyer sliding the engagement ring onto her finger, a ring that Betzy hadn’t wanted to remove until she caught sight of the very last picture on that page.
Before setting her eyes on the dreaded sight, Betzy reread the explanation of the photo, printed just alongside.
Cheating bachelor with old high school flame, Daisy Shay, just days before engagement.
And there it was for all eyes to see. Daisy and Sawyer kissing in some stupid bar.
If Betzy hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it. She’d tried writing it off with the timing alone. Heck, he’d been with her at the cabin for the entire week. But he’d left before everyone else, on a dark night, all by himself. And it just so happened that he’d left in an angry huff after Betzy slowed things down between them. Looks like he knew where to get what he wanted after all.
“Good riddance,” she spat while glaring at the page. “They deserve each other.” Acid swooshed through her body in a boiling rage. But it wasn’t anger that prevailed. The hurt—that was heavier, hotter, greater.
Hurt from having lost Sawyer, officially, once and for all. Not that she’d ever really had him, she realized.
And that’s when the shame settled in. Reminding Betzy that she’d done this to herself. A jagged whimper cracked in her throat as she covered the sight with her hands. She wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and never come out. “I’ve never felt so miserable in my life.”
“Five copies of Slipper Magazine at your service,” Matthew said as he came in from the back door. He handed the stack to Claudia before shrugging out of his coat.
“How bad is it?” Claudia asked while thumbing past the first few pages.
Grandma took one and passed on the rest. “Yeah, did you read it yet?”
Matthew shook his head. “No, I was driving. I’ll leave that to you guys.”
Camila took one and handed the other two to Betzy. Rachel snatched her copy, gave her finger a lick, and began flicking the pages.
Betzy stared at the cover, not quite willing to dive into her magazine just yet. “First one to find it, call out the page, will you?”
“Twenty-three,” Camila said. Betzy looked down to Camila’s magazine to see the exact spread she’d been sent anonymously.
“This is what I saw,” Betzy explained.
Yep. It was all there. Just as evil as she remembered. Worse, she realized as she read over the longer pieces of text. Not all were quotes from her ex-boyfriend. Some were mere observations about her behavior. Each trait, when combined with the others, created a long list that matched up with dozens of wealthy spinsters who never married.
The article tore open her greatest fear with razor sharp, fire hot veracity. She really would be alone forever, wouldn’t she?
“I can see why you did what you did,” Grandma said. “This is infuriating! And just how in the world did they get hold of that marriage contract? That’s clear back from the time you were kids.”
“Huh?” Betzy reached over and flicked the page. And there it was. The exact document they’d typed up twenty years ago. Sawyer’s messy signature with the wavy ‘y’. And hers on the line beneath it.
She groaned. “We said we’d get married when we were twenty-eight. Guess how old I am right now?”
“You’re twenty-eight,” Matthew said while fiddling with the coffee pot.
“Could I have made myself look more pathetic? They’re making it look like I was actually holding him to it.”
“Aw, honey,” Grandma started to say, but even she knew this was beyond fixing.
The lights were flickering. At least from her perspective. And the air around her was getting thick and hazy. Betzy put a hand up.
“I just need to get back in my bed for a minute.” If a minute meant the rest of her life.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Betz,” Mom said.
“It is,” she assured while climbing off the chair. She shuffled her aching body away from the table, trying to see past the hectic haze in her head. “Just…give me some time please. Help yourself to coffee.”
As she made her way to the bedroom, Betzy overheard Mom announce that Daisy would be appearing on one of the morning shows. Great.
Score one for Grandma, who’d somehow known Betzy’s plan was the worst idea ever. Score another one for Grandma, since she’d warned Betzy that Sawyer might actually be among the dirt bags of the universe, something Betzy still couldn’t fathom despite the evidence she’d seen in black and white.
She climbed back into bed in her still-dark room, pulled the covers high over her head, and let the pain have its way with her.
It felt like someone was shredding her heart with a cheese grater. Piece by tiny piece.
If Sawyer planned to go off and conspire with the enemy, why hadn’t he just waited a few months? Why commit to doing something and then mess it all up? Why act like he wanted to defend her when what he did instead was make everything a million times worse?
On top of it all, Sawyer had broken her heart. Ruined her trust. And destroyed her hope for a happy ending.
If Sawyer Kingsley wasn’t the man she thought he’d been all along, the man who allowed her to still have faith in men outside of her own family, what did she have left to hope for?
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Camila asked through the phone line.
“I think it’s the best idea,” Betzy answered as she made her way up the ramp and onto the jet, phone propped to her ear. “It’s what James did, and look how well that turned out.”
“True,” Camila said through the line. “I just worry that you’re going all alone.”
Betzy appreciated her sister-in-law’s concern. “Maybe I’ll request a male personal chef. A single Italian who somehow knows how to massage stress knots out of a broken woman’s back.” She lifted her sunglasses to rest on her head and took a seat in one of the leather lounge chairs. Her eyes moved to the wet bar where her favorite seltzer water chilled.
“You’re not broken,” Camila assured. “You’ve just got a few cracks.”
“Whatever I am,” Betzy said as a fresh ache tore through her chest, “I want to hurry and move on to the next phase. The healed instead of the healing. The mended instead of the cracked.”
A sigh came through the line. “Betzy?”
She pressed the phone more snugly against her ear. “Yeah?”
“We all have cracks,” Camila assured. “But we’re like clay jars, right?”
“Huh?”
“The clay jars that hold candles. The cracks are good. Without them, no light shines through.”
She gave that some thought as Camila continued.
“Your family has endured so much. Yet you still shine light in so many different directions. It’s inspiring.”
Betzy let herself sit in that for a moment, gleaning slivers of comfort from the words. “Thanks, Camila. You’ve inspired me too, you really have.” It was true. She admired the way Camila, despite having come from small means, had gone after her dream, pursued greatness, and walked among the very best in her industry. Just like Sawyer.
“You still haven’t talked to him?” Camila asked.
Betzy shook her head. “No.”
It hadn’t been easy, but between the security crew at her estate and the new phone line she’d switched to, Betzy had successfully dodged Sawyer for the entire day. Dodged him and his attempts to apologize for ruining her life, which she could only assume he’d do since he hadn’t gotten through.
And now here she was, twelve hours after the vicious discovery of her front-page news, boarding a jet to Italy on her own.
“I’m not going to talk to him, either,” she added. “There’s nothing to say. He and Daisy can have each other. I’m going to go silent for a while, something I probably should have done in the first place.”
“Well,” Camila said with a sniff. “Enjoy Italy, sweet friend. It’s already Christmas Eve over ther
e.”
Betzy glanced at her clock. Six p.m. here meant two a.m. there. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess it is.” She fought back a new wave of sadness. Christmas Day would be close behind it, and Betzy had chosen to spend it all alone.
At least she had a family that respected that.
“Thanks for understanding,” she said. “You and James have a merry Christmas.”
“Thanks, Betzy. Have a safe flight.”
As she disconnected the call, an image of that stupid bar kiss—the one between Daisy and Sawyer—burst into her mind. Why? Why was she so set on torturing herself?
Only Betzy realized it was probably more of a defense mechanism. An attempt to finally grasp the reality of a situation she’d refused to see all these years; Sawyer didn’t love her. He wasn’t dying to come home to her. And they never would have that future she hoped they might.
Yet as she assured herself of that very thing, determined to accept it, mourn, and then hopefully heal from it all, a conflicting recollection came to mind. Sawyer’s fervent whisper after he’d proposed. Three glorious words, words that neither the cameras nor the audience could have caught.
I love you.
Chapter 21
Sawyer parked alongside the quiet street, accented by green garlands and hanging lights. Most people were tucked into their homes by now, celebrating with family and friends. But Sawyer had work to do. Or, as it was, one last dragon to slay for his queen.
So here he was, hoping to find Betzy and set the record straight. Sawyer’s mother had spoken with Claudia, who’d said he might find Lorraine at her wedding boutique. Lorraine may or may not tell him where to find Betzy, but he had to try.
Sawyer’s day had been a maddening one to say the least. Waking to the terrible sight of the front-page news. Seeing Slipper’s article for himself, realizing that the proposal had, in fact, caused more damage than good.
Of all the infuriating things he’d run into that day, the picture with Daisy Shay was the worst. It had taken a whole lot of phone calls, and the pulling of a whole lot of strings to get results so close to Christmas, but at last Sawyer had what he needed to clear up his name.
At some point, he’d do so in public. But what mattered now was finding Betzy.
At first glance, the sight of the boutique, housed in an old restored mansion, was promising. Warm, glowing light poured from every main floor window. As he took the short flight of stairs up to the porch, Sawyer caught a better look inside. Silk dresses that went on for miles.
A mannequin up front displayed one by itself, and Sawyer wasn’t sure why, but the sight caused an odd longing to stir within him. As if Betzy herself was wearing the dress.
Hadn’t he just poured his heart out in a proposal for the world to see? There’d been a part of him that believed it might really happen. And somewhere, buried beneath a whole lot of disappointment and doubt, that flicker of hope still burned.
Aside from the lights, there were no signs of life inside the boutique. The sign out front read closed. There were no employees to be seen. No noise seeping through the windows or doors. But still, Sawyer lifted his hand and knocked. Please, Lord, help me find her tonight.
He tucked his hands into his pockets and shivered. There wasn’t snow in this part of the sunshine state, but it wasn’t a warm night by any means.
When no one came to the door, hints of despair crept in. Sawyer couldn’t let another whole day go by—especially when that day was Christmas Eve—with Betzy believing such horrible things about him.
He pulled a hand from his pocket and knocked one more time.
Longingly, he stared at the handle, willing it to move. Another minute ticked on.
Nothing.
Perhaps he’d try her house once more.
Sawyer spun on one foot, took a step away from the door, and heard a small creak from inside the structure. His pulse spiked as he spun around in time to see that handle twist after all.
He thanked the heavens above as a wedge of light appeared in the open gap. And there, silhouetted against the brightness, was Lorraine.
“Sawyer,” she said. “I thought you might come.” She stepped aside and motioned for him to come in.
“Thank you,” he said, giving the shop a once over. “This is a beautiful place you have here.”
She grinned. “Thank you. I think so.”
He nodded, rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, and looked into the woman’s blue eyes. No use beating around the bush. “I need to find Betzy. Can you help me?”
“I might be able to,” she said. “It depends. Let me guess—you’ve got some way to magically make all of this go away?”
Sawyer shook his head. “No, I can’t do that.” For a moment, he thought he saw disappointment in her eyes, but her expression smoothed once more.
“So?”
“I can’t make all of it go away, but I can clear up my side of things by proving that I was not with Daisy that night. In fact, since I happen to have some connections of my own back in New York, I scored the actual video footage where that shot was taken from.”
The expression she pulled was one he’d seen on Betzy several times. The quick lift of one brow. “You do?”
He nodded. “Daisy came onto me at a bar when she flew out for the article. I’m the one who stopped it. Then she accused me of waiting around for Betzy, asking if she was the reason I’d remained single. I didn’t argue.”
More brow lifting. “Huh. You don’t say?”
This time Sawyer couldn’t read her expression so well. He tried to gulp back the dryness in his throat. “So can you help me find her?”
“Have you been waiting for Betzy all these years?” she asked.
There was no point in denying it now. “Yes.”
“Hmm.” Lorraine nodded, her face thoughtful. “Do you remember the year you flew your mom out for Christmas?”
Sawyer furrowed his brow. “Yes.”
“Betzy flew out to New York on New Years. She saw some woman kiss you in a glass elevator.”
The new piece of information was an explosion in his mind, sending questions in every direction. “She did? Why?”
“She didn’t think you were seeing anyone at the time, since you’d said you’d be spending the night alone.”
“Oh man,” Sawyer blurted as he recalled that night. It was just before she started dating Marcus. “Yes, that was a woman from my apartment building. Jane. Her name was Jane. A real man chaser. I told her I was going to bring in the New Year alone, and she leaned in, kissed me, and wished me a Happy New Year. That was it.”
The woman nodded some more, thoughtful. Sawyer was doing an awful lot of thinking himself. Betzy had come out to New York? That was just after the double funeral, when he had sensed their relationship shifting into something more. Perhaps she really had been on the same page.
But what now?
Lorraine dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I liked what you said when you proposed to her,” she said. “You didn’t take my daughter’s advice.”
“I know. I couldn’t.”
“I’m glad,” she admitted. “Was what you said true?”
“Yes. All of it.”
She nodded, sniffed, and snatched a tissue from a nearby box. She dabbed her eyes and nose. “These come in handy here.”
He grinned. “ I bet they do.” Sawyer could only imagine the tears his own mother would shed on his wedding day. And the days leading up to it while seeing him in his tux, or gazing at his bride-to-be in her dress, something she’d probably get to see before he did.
Lorraine walked around the counter and plucked a set of keys off a decorative hook. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we—”
“Oh,” she blurted, throwing a finger in the air. “But first. Just out of curiosity…” Lorraine motioned to a line of mannequins displayed throughout the foyer. There were five in total. “Which of these looks like Betzy to you?”
Sawyer’s
brow furrowed for a beat, but he indulged her just the same, inspecting one wedding gown after the next. By the time he got to the third dress, he realized it was the one he’d spotted through the window. The one that had him seeing Betzy taking that long walk down the aisle as his very own bride.
“That one,” he said, pointing it out for her.
He glanced over to see a slow grin pull at one side of her lips. She lifted one hand to her face and sniffed. “Fate takes the wheel once again,” she said in a whisper. At once, she snatched an overcoat off the counter. “Let’s get going. Do you have a passport?”
“Of course, but where are we going?”
Lorraine shoved an arm into the sleeve of her coat. Sawyer hurried over to help her with the other side.
Once he’d lifted it over her shoulders, she spun back to face him with a wide grin. “We’re going to get Betzy.”
Chapter 22
The family’s restored Italian farmhouse wasn’t quite as cozy as Betzy remembered. Of course, it was empty. Plus, it’d been years since she’d been here. In fact, they’d only come once since the plane crash. And it’d been a difficult visit.
After all, Grandpa and Dad had put so many of their own touches on the old place. Transformed the structure from forgotten farmhouse to spacious villa, complete with eight bedrooms, four bathrooms, and one glorious kitchen. Not to mention the guest house sitting on the same property.
A lot of house for one lone girl.
One bitter girl who’d done a fine job of ruining her life. It occurred to her during her long flight from LA to Venice that she’d finally gotten an answer to an almost lifelong question: Were she and Sawyer really meant to be together?
Not only had Betzy gotten the exact answer she didn’t want to get, she’d received it in the worst possible way, complete with public humiliation and all. Joshua, her public relations rep, was working overtime trying to come up with a perfect reply to the accusations that she’d bribed the bachelor into proposing to her.
She’d asked Joshua to refrain from commenting at this time. What could she say? In a way, Betzy had done that very thing. Minus the bribe, of course.
Her Best Friend Fake Fiancé Page 14