“Nice one,” she said. Now that she’d had some time to think it over, she wished she had kept Thomas chained in a dungeon somewhere. It would’ve served him right.
“Isn’t Jenn going to come with us?” her mom asked, interrupting the morning show’s replay of Chloe’s video tirade.
“No. But I have a feeling we’ll see her there.” Her calm today wasn’t the same calm she’d felt over Thomas’s betrayal. This was more like the pregnant stillness of the sky before a really awful storm swept through. Whether she’d loved Thomas or not, she had no doubt that she loved Jenn Castellan a lot more.
A pixilated rectangle on the television covered the video of Chloe’s middle finger without obscuring any sign of what she’d meant, and Chloe winced at the sight of it. A moment’s pleasure for a lifetime of pain. Well, at least the rest of the world felt good about it. She’d confirmed every suspicion they’d had about her. It was so obvious now that she had thrown that bouquet in the florist’s face. Look at the viciousness of her throwing arm! And she was clearly petty enough to keep her cousin out of the wedding for being too short. Look at that bitchy smirk!
“Oh, sweetie.” Her mom sighed, just as she’d done the other three times they’d watched it.
“Yeah, I know, Mom.” Catching a glimpse of the sorrow on her mother’s face, Chloe relented and aimed the remote at the television, but her finger hadn’t yet hit the power button when Max appeared on the screen. At first, it was just a picture of him in shades and a T-shirt against a backdrop of sand. A picture someone had snapped on the island, probably. She turned up the volume a little, hating the way her stomach dropped as the voice-over woman described his relationship with Genevieve Bianca. After only twenty-four hours of exposure, Chloe already hated the one picture of Genevieve and Max that everyone seemed to have purchased the rights to. Genevieve looked gorgeous and delicate as she always did, her smile slightly sad, her eyes big and guileless. And Max… Max was shockingly gorgeous in a black tux, his sun-streaked hair adding an endearing touch of messiness to his look.
She hated that skinny bitch, especially because there didn’t seem to be anything bitchy about her.
“And this morning we’ve got an exclusive comment from Max Sullivan. His first words about his relationship with Chloe Turner!”
The coffee mug dropped to the table with a sickening thud.
“A source is reporting that Chloe Turner didn’t confess her true identity to you until your affair became public. Is that true?”
“She didn’t confess anything.”
“So she never told you who she was? Interesting. Now, Genevieve Bianca has said publicly that she feels your friendship helped her overcome some big issues in her personal life. Do you think you can help Chloe Turner?”
“That’s ridiculous. I couldn’t help her if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.”
Her mother gasped. “How could he say that about you?”
Chloe had been trying not to wrinkle her clothes, but she gave up the fight and slumped against her chair as her lungs deflated. Oh, God.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
Her mom’s hand touched her shoulder, and Chloe shook her head. “It’s okay.” She wanted it to be okay, but how could it be? Max had left in anger, and someone had obviously caught him before he’d had time to cool down. She knew he’d never have said anything like that under normal circumstances. But she’d thrown his past in his face.
Yes, he’d spoken in anger, but even in the midst of their argument, he must have known that bad-mouthing her to the press would be the one blow she couldn’t forgive.
If she was a martyr, this would be the perfect opportunity to wallow in self-pity.
Chloe swallowed back her tears and turned off the TV. She didn’t have time to stop and let her heart break. Today’s emotional schedule was already full. Still, the pain managed to shoulder its way past her defenses. All Chloe could do was keep moving.
She was rinsing out her coffee cup when her dad walked into the kitchen. His thick brown eyebrows met in a frown over his eyes. “Are you still determined to do this?”
“I’m going to the courthouse, yes, but I don’t want to drag you with me. Bad enough that they followed me here.” She jerked her head in the direction of the street, where the press hovered like a pack of hungry dogs. There’d been no avoiding them. After her food-throwing temper tantrum, they weren’t going to give up their hunt just because of a little darkness.
Her dad grunted his disgust. “I don’t think you need to do this, but I’m not going to let you face those vultures alone. And I’d like to look Mr. Thomas DeLorn in the eye and see what he has to say for himself.”
“I’m sure his lawyers have advised him not to say anything at all.”
“Beth,” he said to her mom, “you should stay home. It’s going to be a real mess outside the courthouse.”
Her mom crossed her arms. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some helpless old biddy. I’m sixty years old, and everyone knows that sixty is the new fifty. I think you should be the one to stay home. Your blood pressure is going to go through the roof.”
“Dad, did you take your pills?”
Even as he muttered about being coddled like a baby, he went to the cabinet for his blood pressure medicine and took one before grabbing his car keys. “Fine. Everyone in the car.”
Two blocks from the courthouse, the street was packed with traffic. The hearing was set to start in thirty minutes, so her dad grabbed a spot at a meter and parked there. By the time they got to the parking lot of the courthouse itself, reporters were starting to crowd around them. They shouted questions about Thomas, and his alleged lover, and Chloe’s frightening temper. They flung zingers about Max and even managed to work Genevieve Bianca into the mix, because—why not? Genevieve sold papers.
Chloe put her head down and soldiered on, both arms looped around her parents’ elbows. For once, she was happy for the panic that threw her heart into overdrive. She could hardly hear their rude questions past the thumping in her ears.