It drove Monica crazy that her ex had managed to get a huge following online but hadn’t built a professional team around that platform, to protect it and him from nonsense like this.
And it was nonsense.
Total…nonsense.
Keep telling yourself that, babe.
Well, she would. She’d built quite the emotional firewall around herself to not care about an insignificant online drama. It was a free world…and he was a free man. But for her own name to be dragged into it? That stung.
And as Amira warned her, the comments had it figured out. Her name. Josh’s name. Mention of a hashtag over on TikTok, but she didn’t have that app on her iPad. Only her phone, which was currently stuck under the bed.
“Amira, I have to go.”
“Of course.” Her friend’s gorgeous face slid into a delicate grown. “Wait, does this mean it’s true? You have a secret husband?”
“No,” Monica promised. “I do not.”
“But you aren’t surprised at the rumour.”
She bit her lip. “Look, it’s a long story.”
“Babe, did you get married and not invite me to the wedding? Because you are my maid of honour.Maid. That means, not married. If you’re really mymatronof honour, I need to have the programs reprinted.”
“I’m not a matron.” Her pulse jackhammered nervously in her neck.
But she couldn’t tell Amira about the wedding, because it technically never happened. Well, it had legally been undone.
And for legal reasons, she was pretty sure she needed to keep pretending that it had never happened.
Which felt bad. Very bad. Lonely, terrible, what the fuck kind of bad.
And that terrible feeling made her question just how good the Fischer Racing lawyers actually were.
Monica took a deep breath. “I need to look into this. It’s a weird mix up, that’s all. Let’s assume it takes a day or two to handle…I’ll be in Italy by Monday or Tuesday at the latest.”
“Sylvie and Cathryn arrive on Wednesday.”
That gave her a week to figure out how some random person on the internet knew about Josh. “I won’t be any later than that. Promise. Pinky swear.”
2
“Uncle Josh, we’re here!”
He poked his head around the hood of Betsy, an old pickup truck he’d slowly been restoring for himself, just in time to see his niece Becca catch her son Charlie’s hand.
The little devil had tried to snag a wrench.
Josh kept plastic ones in a tool kit just for Charlie, so he wiped his hands on a rag, then dug the toys out for his grandnephew.
At thirty-four, Josh felt too young to have a grandnephew, but his older brother Owen had only been nineteen when Becca was born, and then life repeated itself when Becca had Charlie at eighteen.
Normally, he loved having them visit—especially because they didn’t live in Pine Harbour any longer. Charlie’s dad (and Becca’s fiancé) had beaten all the odds after his young hockey career had almost derailed over becoming a teen father. Two years ago, Hayden had been offered a try out contract by an NHL team’s player development program. So it was a rare treat to have Becca and Charlie here.
But Josh was in no mood for company, and in a few hours, he would have to put on a happy face for a family barbecue he couldn’t get out of. His brother Seth was flying home from his honeymoon today. There would be a get together at the marina across the street, where his new sister-in-law was one of the two Howe sisters who managed the Pine Harbour fixture.
And Josh would have to be pretend he wasn’t seething inside.
He yanked Charlie’s special toolbox out of its permanent home on his shelf and handed it to the tyke.
