“And now you’re thinking clearly?” she mocks me, annoyed and offended.

“Have a good night, Tatiana.”

The slam of the door vibrates loudly a few seconds later.

My plan was effective, what I needed to get accomplished is now tied up in a neat bow. Yet in the end, I’ve effectively become unraveled myself.

chapter thirty-four

Kate

The visual wasn’t enough. I couldn’t leave well enough alone. My heart was already bleeding, but it was the response to my three A.M. text that eviscerated any remnant of hope I’d clung to.

Why? was all I wrote.

His response came ten minutes later. I thought I could do exclusive. I’m sorry.

I dropped the phone, curled back into the fetal position and cried myself to sleep.

“You look … like shit,” Sadie says, sliding me a cup of coffee.

“Good morning to you too.” I skipped the mirror after the shower. But I don’t need my reflection to confirm what I look like … I feel it inside of me.

“Sad because you’re leaving one god behind to run off to a tropical island with another god?” She eyes me over her mug as she sips her coffee.

I stutter to say the words. “Cooper is sleeping with Tatiana Laroix.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He wasn’t answering my texts all day, so I went over there last night.” I make a sound that’s close to a laugh, even though it isn’t funny. “I was worried something happened to him. Tatiana answered the door.”

“Maybe she was there on business.”

“She told me he was in the shower and she was about to join him.”

Sadie’s eyes bulge, then she does what I did half the night after I left … she grasps at straws. “Maybe she was lying. You told me yourself the woman was trying to dig her claws into him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, he’s got it bad.”

“I texted him at three in the morning.”

“And.”

I slide my phone over to her. Her eyes go wide. “There has to be a mistake.”

“What part of ‘I’m sorry. I thought I could do exclusive’ do you think I’m misinterpreting?”

Sadie sighs. Her shoulders slump, her posture looks every bit as dejected as I feel. “I’m sorry, Kate. I just … I thought he was different.”

“So did I.” A tear slips from the corner of my eye and streaks down my puffy face.

Seeing me cry, Sadie’s face reflects the pain I feel inside. “I want to rip his balls off.”

I swallow back sadness and allow anger to seep through in its place. “Could you bring them to me on a silver platter when you do that?”

“You got it. But you know what we need to do today, right?”

“Pack? My flight is tonight.”

“Absolutely not. We need to go get makeovers.”

“I’m not really in the mood.” The mope in my voice depresses even me to hear.

“That’s exactly why we need to do it.”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“Pffstt.” She waves her hand. “I make the rules.”

“Don’t the partners whose names are on the letterhead make the rules?”

She winks. “I just let them think that.”

We spend the next few hours at the salon. Sadie insisted I get the deluxe package, threatening the poor girl at the front desk if she didn’t accept her credit card over mine. Everything I chose, Sadie overruled. I asked for a French manicure, Sadie made the girl paint them bright pink, saying it was more island appropriate. I told the hair stylist to give me a trim. I wound up with four inches cut and bold highlights, a heavy streak of blond brightly contrasting with my tanned skin.

I said regular bikini wax, Sadie demanded Brazilian … we settled somewhere in the middle on French. Pretty much the only thing we didn’t argue over was the shape of my eyebrows. In the end, I have to admit, Sadie was right. Although I still felt like shit, the primping and pampering made me look good on the outside, which raised my spirits somewhat.

It’s nearly four o’clock when we finish. I study my reflection in the mirror as Sadie goes around and tips the dozen people who worked their magic on us. They really did do a remarkable job. The makeup artist even managed to bring the swelling down under my eyes and hide the dark circles.

“Looking good is the second best revenge after a breakup,” Sadie says as she comes up behind me, admiring my new appearance.

“Should I bother asking?”

“Fucking a hot rockstar.”

I smile and shake my head as we exit onto the street. “I’m not sleeping with Flynn.”

“Why not? It might make you feel better. I know it would make me feel better to fuck him.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“I hate Cooper right now. But I’m also in love with him.” I finally admit it out loud. Figures it takes me until after he breaks my heart to come clean with myself.

“I know.” Putting her usual sarcasm aside, my best friend takes my hand in hers as we walk. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”

“Thank you.”

“But you know the old saying. When life hands you lemons, grab the salt and tequila.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘make lemonade.’ But I get the idea.” I bump shoulders with her.

“Seriously. Turn this into something positive. Remember the reason you agreed to do the show to begin with. I’ve been watching you walk around silently blaming yourself for something you had no control over for years, Kate. I can’t even imagine what it will do to you if your mom loses the house and Kyle has to stop his therapy. The grand-prize money won’t just help them. It will go a long way to make life easier for you to go back to living. Focus on winning. Don’t let Cooper take that from you too.”

The stretch limousine waits ten minutes while I finish packing. Between my jumbled mind and fragile emotional state, I’m not even sure what the heck is in the sixty-pound suitcase.

Sadie walks me to the car and peeks her head inside. “Wanna French kiss and totally blow their three empty minds?”

“Maybe another time.” I hug her tight. “Thank you for today. For every day.”

“Enjoy yourself,” she whispers. “And focus. After everything you’ve been through, at least win the prize for your family.”

chapter thirty-five

Cooper

The sweat drips from my brow as I turn the machine higher. It’s been two days—two days of conjuring up ugly pictures in my head. Day one was thoughts of Kate being upset. Of her coming to the realization that I’m a total scumbag and crying over the loss of a man she thought she knew. It shredded me.

Then I started to dream up how she would get even. The visions of her in Dickhead’s arms make me run faster. I press the button again and my run turns to a full-on sprint. I run faster and faster, chasing something I can never catch.

A knock at my door saves me from myself. It’s Lou. I open it while I struggle to regain my breath.

“Working out hard, huh, Mr. M?”

“Just running. Helps me decompress.” Usually it does anyway.

“Delivery guy dropped this off from Mile High. Figured it might be important.” He hands me an unmarked small brown package.

“Thanks, Lou.”

I consider tossing the thing in the garbage, actually getting as far as opening the drawer with the hidden trash can and almost dropping it in. Almost. But my curiosity wins out. What the hell could Miles send me after the shit he’s pulled? Begrudgingly, I open the package. It’s a clear jewel case with a DVD inside. I turn it over and find it marked. Day 1 Barbados. That sick, sadistic bastard. He’s going to continue to send me the dailies.

I make it almost a full hour before I’m staring at the monitor. I mutter a dozen curses as I hit play. Five minutes in, the camera zooms in on her. She’s sitting on the beach alone wearing a flowing cover up staring out to the ocean, her knees drawn to her chest. She looks sad. Lonely, even. I freeze the video and stare at the screen like a stalker.