She hesitated, then shook her head. “No. I don’t want to miss our take off slot.”
“It must be urgent, though. Only London would call.”
“Not necessarily. It could be a cold caller. Besides, we’re on our way home now, anyway. If he hasn’t left a message on my cell, I’ll call him when we’re in the car on the way home from the airport.”
“Fair enough.” I waited until she’d got herself settled, then closed the door before rounding the bonnet to climb in the drivers’ side. “Ready?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Me, either.”
“When we get back to New York, we should look at our calendars and carve out time to do this at least a couple of times a year. Go completely off grid. No phones, no internet. Just us.”
I started the engine. “I like that plan.”
We made it to the airport without any hitches and took off on time, but as the seat belt signs turned on, and the plane began its descent into New York, I began fidgeting. If even one reporter cast shade on my girl, he’d need a fucking dental appointment to fix his teeth, and fuck the consequences.
“Relax.” She reached across the table that separated us and squeezed my hand, then returned to the book she’d been reading since take off. I’d tried reading, too, but couldn’t focus. My guts felt off, and not from eating too many marshmallows last night. I wished we’d taken that phone call back at London’s ranch, then if it had been him, we’d have been armed for whatever it was we were walking into.
The landing was textbook, and Aspen’s car waited at the foot of the stairs, engine running, as we disembarked. The beauty of flying by private jet was the access to smaller airports, and there was no sign of the press. As London had promised, our phones were there, and both of us immediately switched them on.
The minute my phone booted up, notifications kept pinging from all sources: text, email, social media. My stomach bottomed out. Something was horribly wrong.
Aspen muttered a curse under her breath. “What’s going on?”
“Your phone the same?”
“Yeah. Hang on. There’s a voicemail from London.” She pressed her phone to her ear, and I navigated to a message from Mike. I read it, and my world collapsed.
“No. Fuck, no, no, no.”
Aspen turned to me, face ashen. “Oh, hell.”
Her driver turned onto a narrow road that led to the highway, and out of nowhere, journalists and photographers surrounded us. Lightbulbs flashed, and fists banged on the roof and sides of the car.
“Drive,” Aspen hollered. “Get us out of here now!”
Blinded by the cameras, I covered my face, as Aspen’s driver swerved around the ravenous mob. The road cleared, and he floored the accelerator, but not before a booming voice made himself heard.
“How does it feel to know you as good as murdered your ex-girlfriend, Joz?”
I slumped in my seat, my thumb scrolling through the multitude of messages.
“How?” Aspen asked. “How did they get hold of something so personal?”
Nausea clawed at my stomach, sweat slicking the back of my neck. “I don’t know.” Somehow, the press had got hold of a diary I wrote when I was in rehab after Caroline killed herself. A diary I kept in my desk at home. A diary that had only ever been read by me. Every thought, every dream, every admission, every horrific detail about what happened that night laid bare for them to pore over like they hadn’t just set off a bomb and destroyed multiple lives. Kate, Arthur, my mother and sister. They’d all know what I did, and they’d never forgive me.
“Someone must’ve broken into my home. There’s no other way they could have access to it. No one knows about that diary other than my therapist from my trip to rehab, and I don’t think he’s even practicing anymore.” I covered my face with my hands. Next thing I knew, Aspen was straddling me, pulling my hands away, looking at me with nothing but love in her eyes—a love I didn’t deserve.
“Listen to me. We’ll find out who did this, and we will throw the fucking book at them. They committed acrime, Joz.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.”
“It’s too late. Too fucking late.” I pushed her off me. “Those were my private thoughts, Aspen. My fucking private thoughts! The kinds of thoughts I’d never want anyone to read or hear. And now everyone knows what a piece of shit I am.”
“Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that.”
