Page 237 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Oh my God! I’d get handcuffs, too,” I whined. “Maybe I need to think this whole cop thing over a little more before I make any career changes.”

“You’re crazy,” he muttered, pulling his sunglasses from his shirt, putting them on, and yanking the folded up baseball hat out of his back pocket to put it on. “I fucking love you, but you’re crazy.”

Before I could offer a sarcastic response, the familiar and always blinding flashes of cameras went off like fireworks in front of my face. Ever since the article had been published, the media had been following us around like fucking vultures. And it didn’t matter how discreet we were, they always managed to find us.

Jesus, when would this end?

Scott wrapped his arm around my shoulder protectively and tucked me into his side. “Just keep your nose to the ground and stay close to me, okay? I’ll handle the rest,” he whispered.

“Okay,” I agreed, letting him lead us through the throng of vipers trying to get our attention.

“Scott! Harlow! Over here!”

“Did you really believe she didn’t write the article, Scott?”

“How can you trust him now, Harlow?”

“Are you getting married?”

“Is Harlow pregnant?”

God, it never ended, and it didn’t matter that the police had cleared Scott’s name and that Gossip had done the press conference as well as printed a statement that the article was fake. The media still wanted to keep the spotlight on the two of us. And they didn’t want happy endings; they wanted fucking blood. If it bleeds, it leads sort of thing.

There was no doubt that pictures of the two of us leaving the police station were worth their weight in gold. And with the enthusiastic—and extremely overwhelming—way their cameras were snapping photos, it was a safe bet that they’d be hot on our trail all goddamn day.

“I guess we’re not going to lunch, huh?” I whispered to Scott as we walked across the sidewalk and he hailed a cab.

“Nope,” he muttered. “Let’s just get home and order takeout, okay?”

“Good idea.”

Even though things were looking up and the truth was coming out, that fucking article had stolen our freedom. Eating out, walking the streets, riding the subway, they were each a thing of the past. We couldn’t do any of it without being assaulted by the press’s questions and cameras.

And the terrifying part of it all was that we didn’t know when it would finally blow over or get better, and neither one of us was certain we could live our lives like this for much longer.

One cab ride and thirty minutes later, we stepped inside of Scott’s apartment. Both of us sighed in relief once the door shut behind us. I slipped off my flip-flops and plopped my tired ass down onto the sofa while Scott grabbed us sodas from the kitchen. The remote was in my hand, and I was scrolling through the Netflix options moments later.

I needed to decompress, and generally speaking, binge-watching Netflix shows was the answer. Hell, I think most people used it as an actual coping mechanism now.

Writer’s block? Watch Netflix.

Just got dumped by your boyfriend? Watch Netflix.

Too many items on your To-Do List? Watch Netflix.

Too stressed out to adult? Watch Netflix.

See? Obviously, it was a multifaceted kind of coping mechanism that could be utilized in almost any situation. Now, I wouldn’t say it actually solved anything, but that was neither here nor there. If I needed something to help me forget that I was procrastinating on my responsibilities or avoiding my problems, Netflix was my number one homeboy.

But as I started watching an episode of Parks and Recreation, I quickly realized I had too much on my mind to experience the full escape my homeboy generally provided.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, though. Life had been a bit of a fucking roller coaster for Scott and me, and it felt like our cart had managed to get stuck on the very tip-top of the first big hill that makes your stomach fall into your shoes.

“I know all of this bullshit will eventually die down, but fucking hell, it’s kind of awful,” I muttered, probably more to myself than Scott. “I mean, when will it end?”

He sat down beside me, set the glasses of water on the table, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and tucked me close to his side. “This is just a temporary kind of hell, Low. It won’t last forever.”

I sighed and rested my head onto his shoulder. “Yeah, but the fact that you just called it a temporary hell says everything.”