Shame on Me

But this is who I used to be and he needs to get a glimpse of that.

Even though I said I was going to do this on my own, I wanted Matt to be here with me. If he’s going to trust me, he needs to see all of me—the good, the bad, and the modeling. In the midst of all the craziness going on with his life—meeting with lawyers and talking to his board of directors to get all of their ducks in a row before they have to go to court against Melanie—he took the time out of his busy schedule to show up for this shoot. If I didn’t know it already, this would just solidify the fact that I’m falling hard for him.

“I was going to tell you that you look like the Bride of Frankenstein with all that crap on your face. I think a few pictures of you just wearing one of my T-shirts would be much better.”

I feel tears well up in my eyes and I blink quickly to keep them contained, but it’s no use. A few slide down my face and I swipe them away before anyone notices I messed up my makeup.

“Oh, great. Now I’m going to have to fix her foundation. Who made her cry?!” I hear the makeup artist shout from somewhere behind us but I don’t care. Matt just said the most wonderful words to me ever.

I stare at him through the mirror while my foundation is re-applied. He walks up closer and rests his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I should know better than to insult a beautiful woman.”

I laugh and shake my head at him. “Believe me, that wasn’t an insult. That was beautiful.”

The makeup artist touches up my face, shooting Matt dirty looks the entire time.

“I can’t believe this is what your life was like for so many years. People dressing you and fussing over you. Did you see the craft service table over there? There’s lobster on it, Paige. Lobster,” he stresses with a smile.

“I know. It’s hard to believe I gave all of this up for the glamorous life of catching bad guys. I’m lucky if Kennedy brings in bagels once a month.”

When the makeup artist is satisfied with her touch-up, she walks away and leaves us alone again.

“I’m glad you asked me to come. Even though the food table is a thing of beauty, I think I understand. This isn’t you, Paige,” he tells me, gesturing at all the people rushing around setting things up for the shoot. “You shouldn’t just sit in front of a camera and not have a say in what happens. You’re smart and you’re strong and you should be doing something that makes you happy. Watching you take charge and do what you were trained to do at Fool Me Once—that’s you. That’s who you were meant to be.”

It’s amazing that this man who has only known me for a handful of weeks gets it. He can see the mold I’ve been trying to break out of.

“Thank you, Matt. You have no idea how much that means to me. I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him softly.

Matt looks at me sheepishly. “You might want to take that back when you see who I brought with me. The board meeting ran a little late today, and my dad’s car is in the shop, so I had to give him a ride home.”

“Is it too hard to get a chair in this godforsaken place? I got bad hips.”

Looking over Matt’s shoulder, I see the man who was in the photograph with Matt at his house. Except he’s not smiling and looks a little irritated as he walks up to us.

“Matthew, that man over there has an earring in his nose. Is he a gay?”

Matt closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Dad, I told you to stay in the car.”

His father grunts and walks over to my chair in front of the mirror, taking a seat and crossing his arms in front of him. “I couldn’t figure out that fancy radio of yours.”

Matt walks to my side and puts his arm around my waist. “Dad, this is Paige McCarty. Paige, this is my father, Eric Russo.”

I reach my hand out to him with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Russo.”

He just stares at me and after a few seconds, I drop my hand back to my side.

“Are you going to be taking your clothes off for these pictures, young lady?” Mr. Russo asks.

“DAD!” Matt scolds.

A laugh bubbles out of me. “It’s okay, Matt. No, Mr. Russo, I will not be taking my clothes off for this photo shoot. This is for a well-known magazine, so clothing is required.”

Mr. Russo narrows his eyes at me. “It’s a good thing I came in here. I see a lot of charlatans in this room who could lead you astray. Like that woman over there with the blue hair and pink skirt.”

I turn around and see that he’s staring right at the photographer for this shoot.

“Actually, that’s a man. His name is Simon Viper, and he’s one of the best photographers in the world,” I tell him.

Mr. Russo’s eyes go wide. “This world is going to hell in a handbasket. Matt, get me some ginger ale. I’m feeling parched.”

Matt sighs and gives me an apologetic look as the photographer’s assistant signals to me that it’s time to start the shoot. I kiss Matt on the cheek and hear Mr. Russo mumble as I walk away.