…
Claire rolled over and switched on her bedside lamp. There was no way she was going to be able to sleep, and that really pissed her off. She needed to escape from the jumble of mixed thoughts and feelings duking it out for dominance in her brain. At the moment, her desire to be with Will pummeled her common sense.
She stepped into her slippers, shuffled to her desk, and flicked the mouse to wake her computer. Maybe working on her itinerary would put her to sleep.
After a few minutes of staring blankly at the calendar while images of Will filled her head, she decided if she were going to agonize and obsesses over the guy, she might as well go all the way.
Pages of links to articles from local news sources, as well as tabloids, loaded simply from searching his name and city. Seeing his picture made her heart race faster. So tall and handsome, whether in a tux at an opera debut or in his fatigues for a military shot, William Anderson took her breath away.
And it made her ache all over. She had totally fallen for him and he’d only been using her. Her breath caught in her throat. She was so confused. Deep down, below the layers and layers of hurt and anger, she still believed they really had something special—that he cared for her.
The facts as she knew them and his explanation on the ride home had parried back and forth in her brain ever since he had dropped her off. And honestly, it was a dead heat. She got why she would be a suspect, for sure.
But Will had said he believed her innocent, even in the face of all the strange coincidences and circumstantial evidence.
She scrolled down and read the name she’d seen in several articles and photo captions out loud. “Bethanne Carmichael.”
Then she clicked on the next article. Local Socialite to Marry War Hero. Will and Beth made a fantastic couple. Both perfect as they smiled at her from her screen.
Skimming through the articles, it seemed like they were everywhere all the time: premieres, restaurants, parties, charity events, even a dedication at the zoo. She flicked through the entries, but stopped short at the bottom of the third page of links. Carmichael-Anderson Wedding Canceled.
Claire expected to find a dry article announcing the end of the engagement, but instead found a horror story. The press had had a field day. By the end of the first paragraph, she’d covered her mouth; by the third, she was holding her breath; and by the end of the article, she was fighting back tears. “That bitch!” Claire stammered in disbelief. It was a wonder the guy didn’t hate every female on the planet. She’d dumped him in the tabloids, and they’d covered his return by posting a photo of him on crutches and wearing a cast fielding questions about the breakup, rather than what he’d accomplished in service to his country. Beth had totally stolen his spotlight. “Give ’em what they want,” Claire whispered. Obviously, a celebrity breakup would sell better than a simple “hero returns” story. Best of both worlds.
It was the next article, though, the one about what had happened to his unit in Afghanistan, that ripped out her heart out and stomped it flat. Will and two other men on his mission had been injured in a roadside ambush. Even with a broken leg, he’d managed to drag the two to safety. God, to go through that, and then return to find out he’d been jilted.
Claire wiped away a tear and picked up her cell phone on her nightstand. He was only a phone call away. One simple push of the button. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not until she sorted out what had really happened between them.
After brewing some chamomile tea, she shuffled back to bed. Sleep or not, she couldn’t torture herself with looking at pictures of Will anymore. It was troubling how much she felt his absence after only this short while, and what she’d just read made her stomach churn. Bethanne Carmichael had better hope she didn’t meet up with her in a dark alley someday.
Chapter Ten
When Claire turned in her notice the next morning, Beverly asked her to finish the catalog she was working on before she left because she was the best editor they’d ever had and it was imperative it be finished in time. She had reluctantly agreed, for Heather’s agency’s reputation more than anything. It would only take the day to finish it, though honestly, she found it impossible to focus and at the rate she was going it could take her remaining week and a half.