Ethan unplugged the TV. I didn’t even realize he’d gotten up.
I didn’t try to hide my tears. I didn’t care if he saw me. I couldn’t hold my pain inside anymore.
I’d received a few negative reviews for my work before—all of which I ignored and chalked up to “miserable people who just wanted to put me down,” but hearing people talk so harshly about my personal life—about an “affair” that wasn’t even true, was something I’d never experienced.
I was used to manipulating the press with positive stories, stories that showed me in a good light, but this scandal stuff was something I couldn’t control, something that grew uglier and uglier every day.
I honestly thought I would be able to brush it off eventually, to act like people’s opinions didn’t hurt, but I couldn’t. Each mean word cut deeply, each hateful sentence seared me to the core.
I felt Ethan’s arms folding around me as he pulled a blanket over us. I heard him say that things were going to be alright, that I shouldn’t let negative people affect me, and that he would stay with me until I was okay.
I felt him brushing away my tears with the sleeves of his jacket, squeezing my hand to remind me that he was there.
I tried to stop myself from crying, but my chest kept heaving and the sobs kept coming.
In that moment, I finally realized that I could’ve prevented this scandal from ever happening: I should have known better. I should’ve left Phillip alone until his “divorce” was finalized and I should have picked up on all the red flags he’d thrown—all those private dinners and private dates weren’t for my sake. They were for his.
When I was finally all cried out, I looked at the clock on the wall and realized it was two in the morning.
“I’ll be okay Ethan,” I untangled myself from his embrace and stood up. “I’m sorry I kept you for over an hour…You can go home now.”
He took off his jacket and bent over to take off his shoes. He motioned for me sit in his lap and wrapped his arms around me again.
“I’ll stay until you’re really better,” he kissed my cheek. “Don’t think about anything, just try to sleep.”
“Okay…But only after you ask me a question.”
He shook his head and laughed softly. “Are you dating anyone else right now?”
“No…Are you?”
“No.”
“Okay,” I rested my head against his chest and tried to think of a question for him, but everything went black.
My mom walked around my suite, fiddling with my newest set of flower bouquets, touching each and every petal.
“So he sends you flowers every day?” she plucked a rose from its stem.
“Yeah…” I smiled. “Ten bouquets a day.”
“Wow. I actually think he’d be really good for you.”
“Because he sends me flowers?”
“No,” she rolled the bloom around in her hand, “because he’s a normal guy and he’s been trying his hardest to take you out. None of those celebrity guys you told me about did half of what he’s done just to go out with you, and you definitely need a break from those types…He’s also cute and charming. I like him.”
I like him too…
“I just wish he was famous…” I sighed.
My mom turned around and glared at me with her cold gray eyes, the same eyes I’d seen when I first arrived in Fayetteville. I didn’t like those eyes…
“What did I say?” I practically withered under her glare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Selena, a good guy is a good guy. Famous or not. Ethan may not be a billionaire, but he’s obviously done quite well for himself. Miss Thompson came into Sweet Seasons this morning talking about how his purchases alone will cover her shop’s expenses for the next six months.”
“What?”
“She said none of these flowers can be grown locally in the fall. She has to call her distributor in Florida and get them flown here. Do you know how much that costs?”
“Two hundred dollars a bouquet,” I guessed, because that’s how much I usually spent when I bought them myself.
“Ha! Two hundred dollars per bloom, and those are for the cheapest ones. The rare roses you have cost three times that much. Isn’t that crazy? He must really like you...”
My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe he was spending that type of money. I couldn’t believe he had that type of money. Then again, that explained the hundred thousand dollar check and he’d mentioned growing up in a wealthy family before. Maybe he had a high position in his family’s business. Or maybe—
“You haven’t slept with him have you?” my mother cut through my thoughts.
“What! You can’t ask me that!”
“Why not? A mother has a right to know these types of things. Have you?”
“No mom,” I sighed. “I have not slept with him.”
Yet…