“You can’t be as sorry as I am. Goodbye, Lettie!” I keep my eyes fixed on the windshield. A neighbor walks out to the street, rolling out a trash can.
The car door opens and shuts. The tailgate beeps as she raises it to get her luggage. I hear some sniffling and glance back. She stands behind my car, holding her bag and silently weeping. My heart spasms; maybe this is salvageable? Then she shuts the back. And my moment of softness hardens. How dare she? I feel like such an idiot for loving her. She plods into the apartment building. I drive home in silence.
When I enter the house, Fitz runs up to greet me, his paws clicking on the floor. I bend down to pet him. “She’s not coming, boy,” I say. “It’s over.” And then I lose it. Fall to my knees with my arms around my dog and sob like a schoolboy. I cry out all the tears I’ve held back since my father’s death.
***
I wake several hours later on therug in the front hallway with Fitz guarding me nearby. For a brief moment, I can’t figure out what I’m doing on the entryway at dusk. Then it all returns: the fragile bliss of time with Lettie, the rising hope that maybe everything would work out, followed by the crushing discovery that she wrote me as the villain in her book. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Fitz licks the salt of my dried tears off my cheeks. The house is empty. My mom has already left for England. I’m supposed to fly out tomorrow. I don’t know how I’m ever going to manage that. Getting up off this floor sounds impossible. I just want to lay here and feel miserable.
I’m stunned by the enormity of my pain. I’ve only known Lettie for a year, but the loss of her, the loss of the dream, is so intense I can hardly breathe. It’s easier to dwell on how she wronged me than to visit the pain. I stay up all night reading her stupid book. There are a few consoling moments, such as when she goes on about the overwhelming attractiveness of the avocado guy. I would find it flattering. And indeed, when I reread the kiss Lydia read out loud, I can’t help but think, good, she must have imagined kissing me nearly as much as I thought about kissing her. But that satisfaction is fleeting because not only did she make me the villain. But she made effing Noah Whittaker the hero.
***
Twenty hours later, my mom picks meup from the train station. The moment I see her stiff smile, I know there’s more bad news. I give her a quick hug, then study her grim face.
“What’s up? Is it Georgie?”
“Your sister’s fine. You’re the one in trouble.”
“You talking about that book?”
“Yes.” She closes the boot and hands me her phone. “Watch this.” The generic blonde face of a TikTok influencer smiles at me from the screen. Her handle is: Ms. Book Boyfriend.
As my mom navigates the narrow roads to Georgie’s cottage, I watch.
The headline reads: “Author Takes Revenge on Boss.”
“This just in,” says the blonde with puffed lips. “We have positively identified the author of the wildly popularAll’s Fair in Lovewho skewered businessman and local hottie, Liam Darcy.” A picture of me in a tux flashes on the screen. It was taken the night of the gala.
“The mysterious author has been identified as Violet Benson.” A photo of Lettie at the gala fills the screen. It’s a great photo. So good I want a copy of it. “The two of them dated briefly.” Across the screen flashes a picture of us dancing at the gala. We’re sharing a laugh. My heart pinches just looking at it. “After Liam ruthlessly dumped her, Violet got sweet, sweet revenge by making her one-time lover a villain in her recent bestseller.” The last photo is the real kicker.
I’m in bed shirtless tenderly kissing Lettie’s hair. It’s the one Lydia snapped with her phone just the other day. The moment is so sweet, it takes me back to that morning when I woke up next to Lettie, full of dreams for our future. I stare at my phone screen as my mom parks her car in the gravel drive outside the cottage. She gives a small cough.
“Did you date Lettie when she worked for you?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly. And I realize just how worried she is about me.
“No, that photo is from yesterday or, wait, the day before.”
“Sunday? It was taken Sunday.” I see the tension leave her. “Then this might not be so bad. I’m certain Lettie can help clear things up.”
“I’m not asking her for help.”
“Aren’t you two dating?” my mom asks. “I thought that was what you wanted.”
I let out a long, exasperated sigh. I’m exhausted and disappointed. I really don’t want to talk about this with my mom. “I thought things were going well. But then everything fell apart.”
“Have you read the book?” my mom asks.
“Yeah, twice.”
“It’s not flattering, but it’s not at all what this TikTok woman is saying. There’s no sexual harassment in it.”
“Not exactly, but it was inappropriate for Ivan to kiss her at the company party.”
“Yes, but this TikTok lady has made it sound much worse.”
“Whatever gets clicks, right?”
My sister scampers out of the cottage and taps on the car window.
