Nova bursts into the office just after seven, eyes wide, holding her phone like it might explode. “You need to see this.”
I take the phone, frowning.
And there it is.
A gossip headline screaming across the screen in bold, unforgiving font.
EXCLUSIVE: NFL STAR TURNED CHEF KNOX KNIGHTLY ABANDONS PREGNANT ONE-NIGHT STAND. SOURCES CLAIM HE’S ‘UNSTABLE, UNFIT TO BE A FATHER.’
My stomach drops.
There’s a blurry photo of me outside The Marrow from weeks ago. Another one of Josie. One I know she didn’t consent to. She’s in her apron, smiling at a tray of pastries like she’s a damn angel, and the caption beneath it makes me want to throw the phone through a wall.
“The woman, 25, reportedly met Knightly during a brief stint working at his restaurant in Silver Peak. According to insider sources, she is pregnant, and Knightly has ‘completely shut down,’ according to one source close to the chef. “He’s spiraling,” the source claims. “He doesn’t want the responsibility.”
I shove the phone back into Nova’s hands.
“How the hell did she find out?” I growl. “This wasn’t public. Josie didn’t, she wouldn’t.”
Nova’s already shaking her head. “She didn’t. But this town? It’s a sieve, Knox. And Savannah’s always had a way of turning whispers into headlines.”
I run both hands through my hair, heart hammering like I’ve just taken a hit on the field.
“I need to call Josie,” I say, already reaching for my phone. “I need to… fuck. She’s going to think I did this. She’s going to think I used her.”
Nova steps in front of me.
“She’s not answering you. You’ve left, what, ten voicemails? She’s probably still figuring out where she stands in all of this. And now this? You need to think before you call her again.”
I grip the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles go white.
“Then what the hell do I do?”
Nova softens, just a little. “You fix it. Publicly. Honestly. You show her, and everyone else, that you’re not running.”
My throat is dry. My thoughts are a storm.
Because Savannah might’ve lit the match, but I poured the gasoline. I gave her every reason to think I was the villain in this story.
And now I have to prove I’m not.
Even if I don’t know how.
Yet.
I don’t hear the front door slam. Don’t hear the footsteps pounding through the restaurant.
But I do hear Dee.
“Where the hell is he?”
Her voice cuts through the hallway like a whipcrack, furious and shaking with fury. Nova doesn’t even try to intercept her.
By the time Dee storms into my office, I’m already halfway out of my chair.
She doesn’t give me a chance to speak.
“You absolute coward,” she spits, slamming the door behind her so hard the wall shudders. “You think you get to hide now? After what you did?”
