I stare at my reflection, their words circling like vultures.
Gold digger. Doesn't belong here. He'll get bored.
Heat pricks behind my eyes. My throat burns.
They're right. About all of it.
Iamonly here for the money. Idon'tbelong in this world of summer houses and designer everything. Asherdidsettle for me because I was convenient, willing to play a part.
Their words cut me deeply. I can hear Kacey’s voice in my head, asking why I even care about their opinions. And maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should walk right out there, with my head held high and no shame. That’s what she would do. But I’m not like Kacey. I want so desperately to belong.
Those women saw through me in seconds. How long until everyone else does? Until Asher's family, the board members, his father—until they all look at me and see exactly what I am?
A fraud.
Tears slide down my cheeks before I can stop them. I press my palms against my eyes, but they keep coming.
Not good enough. Never good enough.
The voice in my head sounds like Richard’s. He used to tell me how amazing I was.The voice of a generation. Insane talent.And then he ripped the rug out from under me. It was all a lie. My writing was never good. I was never going to be published.
And now, I can’t shake the thought of what happens when this is all over? When Asher leaves me at the end of the year… All of my writing is so connected to him, inspired by our days together. Will I have any inspiration when I don’t have him?
Or will I be right back to where I started? Agentless with an unfinished manuscript.
The walls press closer. My lungs squeeze tight, refusing to pull in air.
Breathe. Just breathe.
But I can't.
My chest heaves, shallow gasps that don't reach deep enough. The marble bathroom blurs, edges softening as black spots dance across my vision.
I grip the edge of the sink, knuckles bone-white, but it doesn't ground me. Nothing does.
Gold digger. Fraud. Not good enough.
The words loop, louder and louder, drowning out rational thought.
My throat closes. I claw at the collar, fingers fumbling with the clasp, but it won't budge. The pearls dig into my skin, suffocating me.
Can't breathe. Can't?—
Heat floods my face. Sweat beads along my hairline, trailing down my spine. The room spins, tilting sideways.
I slide to the floor, back against the cool tile wall. My vision tunnels, shrinking to a pinpoint.
You don't belong here. He'll leave. Everyone leaves.
My heartbeat thunders in my ears, erratic and violent. Each breath comes shorter than the last.
Breathe.
I can't.
Breathe.
I'm drowning on dry land.
