The bright California sun lights up the conference room of the high-rise in downtown where I’m currently sitting as my agent, two PR reps, my lawyer, and Max all discuss ways to clean up this mess. Every sports reporter in the country, as well as other entertainment reporters, have been coming out of the woodwork in the hopes of getting a follow-up article. If only they knew that I never gave this one to begin with. I stare out the window while they discuss animatedly how we’re going to get in front of the now-infamous LA Chronicle article and stop the other reporters from calling incessantly. I squint, thinking I can see Paige’s apartment building from here, but the sharp ache in my chest reminds me that I shouldn’t care about anything related to Paige right now. She’s the reason I’m even sitting in this damn conference room.
“Hey, you okay?” Max whispers from next to me.
I turn to him and shake my head before looking down at my phone on the table in front of me. I spin it around with my finger, thinking about the voicemail that Paige left me just a bit ago. I haven’t listened to it—I haven’t listened to any of them—but it’s longer than all her previous ones. I can’t bring myself to hear her voice, especially if she’s going to confess that she was behind this. I’m too afraid that she’s calling to gloat that she finally broke my heart as badly as I broke hers in high school. Even though that’s never really been Paige’s style.
All my insecurities and fears from earlier in our relationship have reared their ugly heads and taken over. I know I’m being a coward by not listening to the voicemails, but I’m just not ready. Part of me feels like I deserve this for how I treated her all those years ago, but even that self-loathing doesn’t ease the betrayal or the absolute ache in my heart from missing her.
I break away from my thoughts and heartache to hear my agent, Dan, agreeing with one of the publicists that we can definitely spin this as a good thing, while also making it clear this was a one-time thing.
He turns to me. “What do you think, Jack? Sound like a plan?”
I give him a blank look. I know I should care about what they’ve decided, but my heart’s not in it. I turn to Max, knowing he’s never led me wrong, and he nods his head. I turn back to Dan and the publicists.
“Sure.”
The meeting wraps up fairly quickly after that, but I feel like I’m in a fog. As I separate from the group to walk to my car, I feel a presence behind me. I turn to see Max quickly catching up to me before I reach my car.
“Hey, I just wanted to check in with you to see if you need me to do anything.”
I shrug. I don’t really know what he wants from me right now, but I’m barely functioning and can’t think past getting the fuck out of here.
“Seriously, Jack. I’ve never seen you like this. What can I do?”
I look up to the sky, letting out a hollow laugh at the situation I’ve found myself in. “You can’t do a fucking thing.” I turn toward my car but then turn back to him, catching him eyeing me cautiously. “You know the worst part?”
“What?”
“I don’t regret a single minute with her. Maybe I deserved this for what I did to her a decade ago, but I wouldn’t change these past few months with her.” I take a deep breath. “Fuck, I even still love her.” I shake my head, thinking that must make me the biggest idiot in the history of the world, but the heart wants what it wants, and my heart has always wanted Paige.
Max steps closer to me, his voice low and urgent. “Are you sure this was her? I’ve thought about it a lot and read that story a million times. The more I look at the situation, the less I think she wrote it. I even read a bunch of her old articles after the comments you made. It doesn’t really sound like her. What if she’s been telling you the truth in all those texts? Have you even listened to her voicemails?”
I look down at the ground and shake my head in shame. “I can’t,” I choke out.
“Why the fuck not?” He seems angry. Where the fuck does he get off being angry? I’m the one who got fucking screwed over.
“Because I can’t bear to hear that she did it, okay!” I yell at him, angry that he doesn’t seem to understand my hesitation. Angry that he’s getting angry at me. Fuck, just simply angry at the whole goddamn mess.
He just stands there, shaking his head at me. “Dude, if she didn’t write that story, then all you’re doing is ruining the best thing you ever had.” With that, he turns and walks to his own car.
His words haunt me for days, but I still can’t bear to listen to her messages. With every day that passes, the dread in my stomach grows that he might just be right.