Page 103 of Playing Mr. Perfect

As he heads out, I put the drawings on my desk, and my phone chimes again. Hoping my sisters aren’t going to keep this up all night, I grab my phone from the credenza and open the group text thread from my family.

Brindle: WTH Pepper? You’re with Clay and the whole world finds out before us?

“What?” My stomach knots up as I scroll through screenshots she sent of celebrity news social media posts with headlines like All You Need to Know About Clay Braden’s Hot Winter Fling and Is Dr. Pepper Mr. Perfect’s Flavor of the Month? The word fling cuts like a knife. My hands shake as I swipe through pictures of me and Clay bowling and making out in the bowling alley parking lot. “Nononono. This can’t be happening,” I say pleadingly to my empty office, and I read the other messages.

Morgyn: I knew the universe would come through for you!

Amber: Why are you and Clay keeping this a secret? Dash didn’t know about you either.

Mom: Pepper, are you okay honey?

Axsel: She’s fine, Mom. She’s hooking up with the hottest bachelor on the planet.

Dad: Princess, I’m here if you want to talk.

My chest constricts at the childhood nickname. I’ll be the talk of Oak Falls, and my parents will have to deal with it. I hate the thought of embarrassing them like this.

Brindle: Were you hooking up in Paris?

Dad: Brindle, I don’t think we need to discuss those types of details in a group text.

Grace: Pepper, you look so happy. Are you?

Sable: Want me to hunt down the people who took the pictures and break their fingers?

My hands shake as I frantically type a response.

Me: Yes, we were together in Paris. I can’t deal with this right now. Please stop texting about it and let me figure things out.

A flood of texts rolls in with I love yous and I’m here if you need mes. I pace the office, feeling like I can’t breathe. Why hasn’t Clay said anything? As I navigate to our texts, my phone rings, and Sable’s name flashes on the screen. Her tour ended over the weekend, and I know she got back to Oak Falls last night. If I don’t answer, she’ll show up here.

I reluctantly put the phone to my ear. “I can’t talk right now.”

“I know it seems like your world is collapsing around you, but trust me, it’s not.”

“Are you freaking kidding me, Sable? I went from being a well-respected scientist to a flavor of the frigging month.”

“Who gives a fuck what those idiots think?”

“I do!” I snap, wearing a path in the carpet. “My clients are going to see this!”

“Your clients know you’re a professional.”

“They won’t now!” My head is spinning.

“What does Clay say about it? He can make a statement to the media and shut it down.”

“I haven’t talked to him. He’s in New York on business.”

“He hasn’t called you? What the fuck? You know he has a PR rep or an assistant keeping an eye on this shit.”

Pain slices through me at her anger, because that’s exactly what is going through my head. “I don’t know what he has, but it’s a good thing he hasn’t called. I don’t want to talk to anyone,” I seethe. “This is all my fault. I saw people looking at him the first night he was here. I should’ve known better than to hang out with a celebrity.”

“Or at least not suck face in the parking lot.”

I groan. “I can’t talk about this right now. I just…I can’t.”

“Fine. I can be there in an hour.”