“Maybe that would have been better.”
Before she could respond, there was another knock at the door—this one more frantic.
Farley crossed to open it, and Gladys burst in, her face flushed with anger.
“What in the sam hill is going on?” She jabbed a finger toward the window. “There are people at my gate. Lots of people. With cameras and microphones and those big fuzzy things they use in movies. Someone tried to bribe my farmhand two hundred dollars for information about which cabin you’re in.”
My stomach dropped. “Gladys, I’m so sorry—”
“I’ve been holding them off at the main road, but they’re threatening to go around. Saying it’s public interest or some nonsense.” She looked between me and Farley, her expression softening slightly. “I don’t know what’s happened, but I’m guessing it’s not good.”
“There’s a video,” Farley said quietly. “Of us. At Shifflett’s general store.”
Gladys’s eyebrows rose. “A video of what, exactly?”
Neither of us answered. We didn’t have to.
“Ah.” She nodded slowly. “Well. That explains the circus.”
Circus. The word landed like a stone in my chest.
“This is actually perfect,” Sabrina said, apparently recovered from my outburst. “The more attention, the better. Samuel, we should go out there. Give them a statement. Control the narrative before—”
“Nobody’s giving any statements,” Gladys snapped. “This is private property, and those vultures can wait until hell freezes over for all I care.”
I could have kissed her.
But before I could thank her, I heard it: the crunch of snow outside. Multiple footsteps. Voices calling my name.
“Samuel! Samuel Bennett! Can you confirm you’re in a relationship?”
“Dr. Blaze! Over here!”
“Is it true you’re quitting Midnight At Magnolia General?”
Farley moved to the window and twitched the curtain aside. His face went pale. “There are... there are at least a dozen of them. In the yard.”
“They got past my gate,” Gladys said grimly. “I’m calling the sheriff.”
Purrsephone had retreated under the couch, her fur puffed to twice its normal size. I knew exactly how she felt.
And then the door opened and a man walked into the cabin.
He was handsome in an obvious, polished way—the kind of handsome that came from expensive haircuts and careful grooming. He wore a cashmere coat that probably cost more than my first car. And he was looking at Farley like he owned him.
Farley made a sound like he’d been punched in the gut.
“Who the hell are you?” I demanded.
The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oliver Sandborn. Farley’s boyfriend.”
“Ex,” Farley said, his voice shaking. “Ex-boyfriend. Very ex.”
Purrsephone emerged from under the couch just long enough to hiss at Ollie—a long, venomous sound that perfectly captured my feelings—before disappearing again.
“Farley.” Ollie moved toward him, hands outstretched, completely ignoring the rest of us. “I had to come. When I saw the video, I realized—I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“You made a terrible mistake when you fucked my personal assistant.” Farley’s voice was ice. “This is just you being a vulture.”
