Chapter Five

April 10

MAYBE IT WAS the great sex after our last date that made me forget about the whole email and extortion thing. Maybe I just really didn’t want to remember it. Or maybe it was neither of those things and I’m just the most forgetful person in the world.

Regardless of why I forgot, the fact remains that I forgot. And forgetting felt really good for a few days. Until I wake up this morning to my phone ringing at six, which I wouldn’t enjoy under any circumstance, but especially not this one.

“Cyn, it’s Sam,” I hear, bleary-eyed and cranky.

“You better be dead or dying,” I say, my whole not-a-morning-person persona shining through.

“You need to check out Gossip A to Z.” She is clearly neither dead nor dying. “It’s bad.”

I jump out of bed and sit down at my desk to fire up my laptop.

“They were posted in the middle of the night,” she says. “My friend at Channel 12 texted me this morning asking for comment.”

As the page loads and I see the first few pictures, my heart stops racing and I begin to tell myself it’s not that bad. The first picture is of me with Javier holding hands on the sidewalk. I assumed there would be something like that and it’s fine. I scroll down to see similar pictures of me with Ken and Peter and a nice shot of me standing alone at the Prom that must have been right before I made my escape.

“These are fine,” I say, exhaling loudly. “People know I’m dating different men this year already and I warned the guys. What could be so bad—?”

The next words get stuck in my throat as I scroll down a bit farther and see why Sam sounds so upset. It’s not just pictures of me out and about with these three guys. It’s the text that goes with it.

Local ice cream shop owner Cynthia Blake has been up to some Sinfully Good times lately. After announcing a preposterous plan to date not one, not two, but twelve men this year in the hopes of finding a husband, the desperate Blake is proving good to her word, already leading three men so far down her path of despicable depravity.

Sure, a few dates here and there to get to know someone sounds harmless, but Blake and her beaus have been caught in some pretty naughty behavior, including an indecent exposure moment in the backseat of one of the men’s cars. How’s that for two scoops, Arizona?

There’s a blurry picture of Peter talking to the man who caught us that night and my stomach drops as I look closely and see that I’ve clearly got my top off. My breasts are covered by the word “WHORE,” and I want to throw up.

Is this really how women are finding true love these days? Or is Ms. Blake just out to sleep with as many men as she can this year, which is what it looks like to us. We’ll post more pictures soon so you can all meet her April “flavor,” as she calls it, but this whole thing is anything but sweet.

“Did you know someone had pictures of you?” asks Sam, who I’d almost forgotten was still on the phone.

“I found out a few days ago,” I say, quietly. “They tried to blackmail me. I forgot about it.”

“You forgot you were being blackmailed?” She sounds incredulous. “Cyn, that’s not something you should forget.”

“I didn’t forget forget. I guess I didn’t really think they’d go through with it. And I didn’t think they’d have anything that incriminating. I just thought it would be a little embarrassing.”

“I’m sorry, Cyn,” Sam says. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like it’s your fault or anything. It’s just not like you to not be all over something that could damage the stores.”

She’s right and I know it, but the stores were the last thing on my mind as these images came into view. I may not be too embarrassed about a few pictures on a blog, but the three men in the pictures with me have families and careers to consider. And Eric specifically said he’d hate to be involved with anything like this. In one fell swoop, I may have ruined other lives and blown any chance I might have had with a great guy.

I’m filled with self-loathing, so I thank Sam for alerting me and tell her I’ll talk to her later. Before I can deal with how shitty I’m feeling, I send a new text to Javier, Ken, and Peter with a link to the blog, an apology, and a note to call me if they want to talk.

It’s early, but I know Eric goes into the lab around this time, so I pick up the phone to call him. I try to be like him and rehearse what I’m going to say before he picks up, but he answers almost immediately and I’m still completely unsure of what to say when I hear his kind voice on the other end.

“The pictures are up and it’s worse than I thought and I totally understand if you never want to see me again,” I say in one breath, opting for the rip-off-the-Band-Aid approach.

“Are you okay?” he says, again sweetly concerned with my well-being over what this might mean.

“Only if you are.” I realize as the words come out that it’s completely true. I can apologize to the others and make it right however I can. But if this is something Eric can’t get past, I will be crushed.

“I’m angry.” He goes quiet, and I get the feeling he’s thinking things over, maybe wondering how much trouble I’m worth.

“I know and I’m so sorry. I should have paid them, but I’m not even sure that would have worked. I understand if you want to end this.”

“Wait, do you think I’m angry with you?”

“Well, yes.” I’m unsure of what he means.

“I’m angry at them,” he says emphatically. “I am livid that someone has invaded your privacy like this and even more so that they’ve gone after your character. I am furious that there are people in this world who would try to make money from other people’s misery. And I’m angry at them for making you worry that something like this could come between us. But you? No, Cynthia, I’m not angry with you at all.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” I say.

“I have to go to work. But I’ll stop by on my way and we can snog for a minute if that’ll make you feel better.”

“It really will.” I smile. “And not just because you said snogging and I love that word.”

“It felt like the right occasion for it,” he says with a laugh. “Now go unlock the door and climb back in bed. I’ll come in to kiss you goodbye and we can pretend we’re an old married couple who still say goodbye like a couple of teenagers.”

“Deal.” I get up to do as I’m told.

I get back in bed and try to think about the wonderful man on his way to comfort me instead of everything else I’ve been focused on this morning. After what feels like only a couple of minutes, I hear the door open and footsteps down the hall and wonder how Eric could have gotten here so fast. Before I can check the time, a familiar shadow darkens my doorway and I nearly gasp.

It’s Carter.

*

“I JUST GOT off work and had a few texts from friends about that stupid website,” he says, clearly out of breath. “I wanted to come see if you’re okay. I would have knocked, but the door was open and that made me even more worried for some reason. Judging by the look on your face, you’ve already seen it.”

I’m gaping at him and can’t seem to make words come out, but before I can even stop to think about forming words, I jump out of bed and into his arms. Hot, heavy tears are on his shoulder as I sob like a little kid, snot and all. He’s changed out of his scrubs and into a soft T-shirt of his that I love, and I move away from the gross shoulder to rest my head on the clean side while I catch my breath.

I’m sure I look horrible, but I can almost see myself through Carter’s eyes as I gaze up at him before launching into round two of crying. The expression he has on his face shows nothing of the loathing and ickiness I currently feel about myself. Instead, he just looks worried about me. It hadn’t even occurred to me to let him know about all of this, but here he is, showing up to help me through it before he can even decide what it all means to him. My tears take on a new meaning as I start to think about how many hearts I’m leaving in my wake.

“I’m sorry,” I say, finally able to form a sentence. It’s only two words and not nearly adequate, but it’s all I can do right now.

“I know,” he says, gently. “I’m sorry too. I thought I could stay away from you and let you do what you need to this year, but maybe…”

I don’t get to hear what we could maybe do because at that exact moment, we both turn to see a very confused Eric standing in my hallway. I pull back from Carter’s embrace abruptly, once again unable to come up with the right words to say for what might be the world’s most awkward situation ever.

Carter looks like I punched him in the gut, and I might as well have. I can’t see Eric’s expression as clearly, but it looks more confused than hurt, a relief for sure. Staring at both of them in turn, I feel a new resolve building within me. Neither of these men deserves anything less than the whole truth from me at this moment and the only way I can think to tell it is in tandem.

“Let’s move this to the kitchen,” I say, grabbing Carter’s hand and leading him back down the hallway. I grab Eric with my other hand as we go, forcing them to walk side by side behind me. I lead them both to chairs on opposite sides of my dinette set and sit between them.

“Carter, this is Eric,” I say. “Eric, this is Carter.”

“April?” asks Carter, clearly sizing Eric up.

“Yes,” I say. “And Eric—Carter and I were sort of dating before this whole thing started. He and I have plans to date again in June.”

“I see,” says Eric. “I didn’t realize that someone in the mix had a clear advantage.”

“Hey—she was dating me when she came up with this whole Plan,” says Carter. “I wouldn’t say I have any advantage.”

“Carter came by to check on me,” I continue to explain. “Eric was on his way over to do that same thing. That’s why the door was open. I can’t tell you both how much it means to me that you are here for me today. You both have reason to be hurt or angry with me, but your showing up this morning tells me you’re in this with me and that’s more than I deserve.”

They both reach out to grab my hand but pull back when they see the other doing the same thing. Seriously, it’s so damn awkward in here, but I press on.

“I need some time to figure out what to do about this whole Gossip A to Z thing and I want you both to do the same,” I say. “Someone is clearly following me somehow and this could be really embarrassing for anyone involved with me. I will check with my lawyer about getting everything pulled down, but I doubt that’s really an option. Sam mentioned this morning that local news outlets are already picking the story up. I will completely understand if you decide you don’t want to be with me because of this.”

I’m speaking to both of them, so I try to keep looking back and forth, but I can’t help myself from staring at Carter a bit longer as I speak. He gave me an opportunity to walk away from all of this and I screwed it all up. This has to be especially painful for him. I hope he gives me a chance to talk with him before our month begins. There’s so much more to say.

“I’m not going anywhere,” says Eric. “I’ll take some time to think about how we move forward like you’re asking, but that’s exactly what I’ll be thinking about. How we will move forward.”

Carter stands up while speaking and I know he wants me to notice that he’s clearly just as in as Eric when he says, “Ditto. I’m not giving up on us.”

So there I am, sitting between a prince (okay, not really) and a doctor (also, not quite, but close enough) and facing what could be the greatest or most confusing decision of my life.

I’m still pissed about the website, but something tells me I’ll remember today for this moment more than anything else.