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I don’t see how that couldn’t be the most concerning thing to her. “How so?”
She stares at me for the longest minute, her lips pursing in disgust.
My stomach hollows, and I die a little inside as she draws the silence out.
When she decides she’s tortured me enough, she collects her phone, turns it on, and slides it over.
The first thing I notice is the website—TMZ. Then, the headline: Jake Mitchell Spotted in Disguise at Hometown Bar with Mystery Woman.
My eyes frantically move down to the picture. A picture of me and Jake drinking and laughing at the table in Southern Roots. The asshole at the table with us must have snuck a picture without us noticing.
I freeze in abject horror.
“He must be feeling better, then,” she notes. “If that’s really him.”
She allows the phone to blink black. “That is him, right?”
All I can do is nod.
“So, tell me,” she says, leaning into the desk. “Was it before or after you went down to McDonough, Georgia to visit Jake that you tipped him off about the story?”
I have nothing to say. I just look at her like a scolded child. I want to shrink into the chair and disappear. I want to disappear forever.
“Anything else you’d like to say for yourself, Ms. Reed?”
Honestly, there’s only one other thing to say. “I’ll clear my desk,” I manage and shakily stand.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
The only placeI can think to go, and that I really want to go, is home. I need to go by the store to replace the toiletries I left at the Mitchell’s, but I don’t care at the moment. I just want to get home, change into some pajamas, and lament.
And punish myself by listening to my interview with Meaghan again. Poke my finger into the emotional cut and dig around.
I curl up onto the couch with a mug of tea and listen. Ignore my mom’s calls. I’m sure she saw the TMZ story…that’s now being covered by all the major news networks. They’re still calling me the Mystery Woman, but I know it’s only a matter of time before they find out who I am and call me by name.
But I can’t call her back right now because all I can do is cry. And cry some more. Sob so hard I slosh hot tea onto my lap and then cry some more.
And then I start the recording over.
Rinse and repeat.
