Page 25 of Some Kinda Romance

12

SERENITY

It took me forever to get home because of the paparazzi hanging around my car, and when I finally managed to inch free of the mob and made it home, there were more waiting for me outside my building. I rounded the last corner and saw them camping out on the sidewalk, so I tightened my grip on my steering wheel and bowed my head but kept my eyes on the road.

Born into one of the old families in the area, the press had been around since the moment I’d taken my first breath. Back then, however, their interest in me hadn’t been this intense. Growing up, they’d been there but more in the background than anything else.

Then my parents had died in a helicopter crash, I’d gotten the role on my show, and I’d divorced Ethan Langley. After the crash, the paparazzi had hounded me for months. Until the investigation had finally been concluded and the fervor had died down.

Cue me getting cast on a reality TV show showcasing the daily lives of a dozen LA socialites while they learned to adapt to living in Wichita. The show had become intensely popular, with our seasons earning a position as a cult classic even though the series itself was still running.

Eventually, it’d felt like my time on the small screen had come to an end and I’d left the show to continue with my life. Fresh off Kansas soil, I’d run into Ethan, who I’d known for ages as the charming eldest son of the Langleys, a well-respected family who’d been in town almost as long as my own.

The press had eaten up our love story, hiding in the bushes when we had a date outdoors and photographing every kiss, every touch, and every intimate meal we’d shared. Bets had been placed on when he would pop the question, and at one point, it’d felt like the whole world was waiting with bated breath for him to go down on one knee.

So he had. He’d asked and I’d said yes, and the paparazzi had been there for all of it. We’d become an “it” couple, one that people made memes of and posted as “relationship goals.” Little had they known that the gentleman he portrayed himself as to the world vanished as soon as the door shut behind him.

That particular hell had been private, though.

To this day, no one knew the full extent of what he’d put me through, and for that, at least, I was grateful, but the moment I’d served him with divorce papers, the media feeding frenzy had started once more. These days, their interest in me ebbed and flowed, picking up whenever a new rumor surfaced or Ethan was spotted with someone else—which happened a lot. He was kind of a man-slut.

They also liked hounding me for all those answers I’d never given about exactly what had happened behind closed doors during our five-year marriage. Oftentimes, they waited for me outside the office when I left for the day, as had happened today.

That meant it was either a slow day for them or Ethan had done something to garner their attention and they were looking for my reaction to whatever it was. As I parked carefully between the pack of swarming bodies in the parking area, I sighed and tried to gather the courage to climb out of the car.

So many times, I’d asked myself why I insisted on parking outside my building at work instead of always using my spot in the parking lot. I’d wondered why I didn’t just keep driving when I got home to this kind of hysteria, but ultimately, I wasn’t going to let these people—who were only doing their jobs—turn me into a recluse.

I refused.

It hit too close to home after everything I’d been through with Ethan and I simply wouldn’t hide. I wouldn’t change my routines or tremble in my heels. They got paid to ask questions and take pictures, and the more I tried to discourage them from doing that, the more interested they became.

I figured that eventually this fervor would die down, too, and I’d be able to live my life for at least a couple years before the next event that would bring them back in full force. Shouldering my bag, I dragged in a deep breath and pulled on the door handle, wishing I could slide my sunglasses on but it was nighttime and I wasn’t that girl.

With my head held high, I climbed out of the car and faced them, the people responsible for so much misery branded as entertainment and public interest. Pasting a smile on my face, I started the slow progression to my building while they bombarded me with questions.

“Serenity! Serenity, over here! Is it true that Ethan put you in the hospital? Did he hit you?”

“Serenity! Are you going to be on the revival of the show this summer?”

“Ethan has released a statement saying that you’re mentally unstable, is that true?”

“Are you going to be back on our screens in Abram Fox’s reality show about life after divorce?”

“Are you pregnant with Ethan’s baby? Are you really not going to let him see the child?”

I grated my teeth but kept the smile on my face, turning to address them once I reached the few steps to my door. Bright lights shone in my face and the bombardment continued, but I put my hands together, nodding slightly at them.

“Good night, everyone. Remember not to believe everything you hear. Most of the time, it’s not true. There’s not always fire where there’s smoke.”

Giving them a friendly wave, I unlocked the door and retreated into my building, making sure I locked my penthouse behind me before I sagged against it, suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed. It was starting to feel like, this time around, the feeding frenzy was never going to end.

I tried to take it in stride, but I was human, and it was beginning to wear me down. After focusing on my breathing for a minute, I finally pushed away from the door and kicked off my shoes, stripping as I walked to my bathroom and ran a hot bath.

As I climbed into the tub, I promised myself I would leave it all outside. The press. The wedding. Dash. All of it.

Warm water lapped against my shins as I stepped in. It washed over me in gentle waves when I sat down. I didn’t even bother putting my hair up on top of my head, just sinking into the water and washing myself, then lying right there until it started getting cold.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time I got out—my skin was wrinkled—and yet, my mind was still racing. Wrapping a thick towel around myself, I padded to my bedroom and got into my pajamas.