In front of a decorated table, Cierra started to pose when one guest sheepishly made his way over to their group, hovering near Erik. The man’s face held a look of nervous excitement.
“Hey, can I get you anything?” Cierra noticed the onlooker was clearly focused on her.
“Sorry, I just wanted to say that was one of the best vegan dishes I’ve had, well, ever at one of these events.”
Cierra stood there, touched. “Thank you.”
“Do you know she’s on Instagram? She has a bunch of recipes and stuff, if you’re interested,” Erik said.
“Really? What’s your handle?” the onlooker asked.
Before Cierra could say anything, Erik responded, “It’s @bigapplechef, yeah, that one right there.”
Cierra’s new fan had pulled out his phone instantly; an anticipatory smile brightened his face. “Great. Well, thanks again. Have a good night, everyone.”
“Sure thing,” Cierra said. As he walked away, she beamed internally and turned to Erik. “I had no idea you followed my account!” she said, her cheeks reddening slightly in embarrassment.
“Yeah, apparently you’ve got a huge fanrighthere,” Nadine said flatly, her words slurred and accusatory. Still holding Cierra’s phone in her hand, she thrust it suddenly into Erik’s chest. “Why don’t you take the video? I think I’m gonna head to our room.”
Cierra glanced at Erik as Nadine stormed away, nervous that she had done something wrong. “Is everything okay?”
Rolling his eyes, Erik shook his head before regaining his composure. “Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. It’s nothing. You ready?”
“Uh, sure. Let’s do it.”
The flight taking everyone back to NYC was at noon the next day, so Cierra was glad to get started on clean-up early. Andlater, after she showered and the only sounds making their way through the villa’s corridors were those of light murmurs, Cierra comfortably snuggled into bed. She kept going over what had happened that day, including the moment she had with Erik before the event, and Nadine’s outburst. A knot formed in her stomach, thinking about the way Nadine had glanced from Cierra to Erik before storming off. But they had done nothing wrong. Nadine was mistaken.
So why did she still feel the faint flicker of guilt?
Swiping through her social media feed to get her mind off it, her heart sank when a colorful photo of Harry and Melanie on some southern European coastline intruded on her mindless scrolling time (they still followed each other, because, you know, she was mature like that). Reluctantly zooming in on the location with two precise fingers, Cierra scowled. It couldn’t be.
Positano, Italy.
Her stomach dropped as if the bed beneath her had opened like a trapdoor to a new level of hell in Dante’s Inferno: Breakup Edition. With a look of amazement and disgust, a bitter laugh escaped her. This was cruel. Two years ago, Cierra had told him it was her dream vacation. He’d started saving a year before he dumped her.
That was supposed to be me.
She shouldn’t read the caption. She knew she shouldn’t. Or check to see which of their mutual friends liked the post. Definitely not that. People were free to like whatever they wanted. It was a pleasant picture. Not a big deal.
Anyway, she was seeing someone new, too.
Yeah, but I’m not smearing them over social media like a sadistic dog owner parading a new poodle in front of the mutt they dropped at the shelter. This isn’t fair.
Cierra tossed her phone on the bed and wiped salty, angry tears from her eyes; she’d thought this part would’ve been over by now.
Close your eyes. Four deep breaths. Don’t let this ruin your night.
With a tight mouth, she re-opened the app and muted Harry, a reasonable compromise. For an indulgent ego boost, she wandered to the section that showed her all the new followers that had come in over the past few days. People had sent little fan messages — with a few scams and creeps here and there, naturally. There was even a new follow and message from the man who liked the vegan dish, and this brought a conciliatory smile to her face. At least there was one man who liked what she had to offer. Maybe two, if things continued to go well with Julian.
Opening her photos, she reviewed some videos and pictures she’d accumulated over the past few days. Harry wasn’t the only one who went on adventurous, colorful vacations. There were ones of her dishes, some candids a photographer had taken of her prepping, even one of her and Erik during the set-up, which made her smile. While Cierra was planning on posting when she got back, after Mia’s usual assistance, she felt an impulse to put something out that night. A digital testament to her bright, fulfilling, exciting life for everyone to see. She ventured to her messages first and noticed at least eleven message requests, which were hidden from immediate view.
Intrigued, she switched over to the hidden messages tab to see many were from the same person, a Gabriel Brown.
Gabriel: Hey again, just wanted to make sure you saw my earlier message . . .
Gabriel: So I’m a producer for Plated. Tried to reach you a few times but . . .
Cierra read on, bewildered at what she was seeing. Was this a prank? This couldn’t be real. She had just begun her page a couple of months ago — not even that. Was she being scammed?
