Authors: Melody Carlson
“I got your letter,” Blake tells me after we walk over to the waiting area.
“Huh?” I wonder what he means, then suddenly remember that late-night letter I wrote before the Bahamas trip. It seems so long ago. “Oh …” I just nod. “Right.”
“I think we should talk.”
“Yeah, I do too,” I admit. “But the truth is I’m exhausted right now, Blake. I can barely think.” I tell him about the hurricane, Fran’s illness, and the emergency flight … followed by Mollie’s delivery. “I’m emotionally drained.”
“That’s understandable.” And thankfully, without questioning me further, Blake offers to take me home. I don’t refuse. It’s surreal as we walk through the parking garage and get into his car—like
where am I, get here?
I feel like I’m in a fog as he drives me home. But I also feel like I’m safe—like I’m in good hands—and it feels good to be with him. He even walks me all the way to my door.
“Thanks,” I tell him. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
He smiles and I’m surprised at how much that smile comforts me. “You seem pretty beat, Erin. Get some rest and then give me a call, okay?”
“I will,” I promise. And still I just stand there, staring at him.
He leans over and gives me a gentle kiss on the forehead. Nothing more … nothing less. But as I go into the condo, I think it was perfect. It could be sheer exhaustion, but I think maybe he understands me better than I thought.
I go into the condo, drop my bag, and take a short shower followed by a nice long nap. When I wake up it’s to the sound of the phone. The house phone. I pick it up to hear my sister wailing on the other end.
“Oh, Erin,” she cries with too much emotion.
“You’re there!”
“Yes. I’m here. What’s up?”
She makes a choked sob. “It’s—it’s
Dylan.”
“Oh no!” I suddenly remember how he’d gone missing during the hurricane—is it possible he was hurt? “What happened?” I ask quietly.
And then she pours out her story—and it’s nothing like I was imagining (a tragic scenario where Dylan was killed beneath a collapsed building or in a car wreck). No, Paige is telling me she’s just discovered that Dylan was with Eliza last night.
“You’re kidding.” I feel a sinking realization as I remember my concerns after we taped the
Britain’s Got Style
show.
“No! He spent the night with her,” she sobs. “How could he do that to me?”
“Oh, Paige. I am so sorry.”
“Mom—she said that you guys saw Eliza and Dylan leave together yesterday — ”
“That doesn’t mean they actually slept together,” I say suddenly. “I mean, you can’t assume that just because they spent the night … There was that storm and maybe they got stuck some — ”
“Eliza admitted the whole thing to me,” Paige says sadly. “Just a few minutes ago, down in the hotel lobby.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, she was acting all coy, like she had this big secret
and she didn’t want me to figure it out. But when I asked her point blank, she laid it all out. Like she wanted to make sure I understood.”
“That was just Eliza’s version,” I try. “Have you spoken to Dylan yet?”
“No … but I think she was telling the truth.” Paige’s voice is quiet and flat.
“But you don’t know for sure, Paige. And you do know that girl has a mean streak. She’s always been jealous of you. Maybe she’s just setting you up.”
“Oh, Erin, I wish you were here.” Now she’s crying again.
“It’s going to be okay, Paige. You’ll get through this. I know you will.”
“I just can’t believe he’d do that to me. I thought—I thought he loved me.”
“I thought he did too, Paige.”
“But you don’t do that to someone you love.”
“I don’t know … I mean, I don’t think so. You really need to talk to Dylan, Paige. You need to hear his side. Just in case he’s innocent.”
“I
know
he’s not innocent.” Her tone gets cold now. “In my heart, I know he did it. And I have a feeling he was just using me—right from the beginning, Erin. Remember when we were in Paris, he was worried about his future as a designer? He thought he was on his way out.”
“I guess …” Now I remember how I was the one who talked to him during the paparazzi problems in London, how I encouraged him to try again with Paige. I swallow hard. Is this my fault?
“And getting engaged to me brought him fresh publicity,” she continues. “It was like his ticket to another season.”
“Really?
You honestly believe that?”
“I didn’t believe it then. I was too swept away. But I believe it now. Dylan knew what he was doing all along. And he used me.”
“Oh …” There’s so much I want to say to her right now. But so much of it would be useless … thoughtless … pointless. I just don’t want to go there. Besides that, I’ve barely recovered from all that’s happened to me in the past twenty-four hours. I don’t trust myself to say what I really think. And so I simply say, “I’m sorry, Paige.”
“I wish I’d come home with you. I can’t stand being here. And Mom just doesn’t get it. She’s acting like it’s all going to blow over—like the aftermath of the hurricane. We’ll just sweep it up and everything will be peachy keen.”
“I really am sorry, Paige. I wish there was something more that I could do or say. This shouldn’t have happened to you. You don’t deserve this.”
She sniffs. “I
trusted him.”
“I know you did. And you can’t be sorry for that.”
“But it hurts so much. To give my heart like that … and now this. What is wrong with me, Erin? Why do I attract this kind of trouble? I mean, first Ben, and now Dylan. I just want to know why!”
“I don’t know why. You are an amazing person, Paige, and you deserve an equally amazing guy.”
“Thanks.”
“And you know that I love you, Paige. Even if Mom’s acting weird right now, you know she loves you too. We’re both here for you, Paige. You’re not alone in this.”
“I know. And that’s a comfort. I just—just want to come home,” she sobs.
“Why don’t you? It sounds like there’s not much more you can do there anyway. Why not just wrap it up?”
“Yeah … maybe so.”
“And when you get home, we’ll sit down and talk this all out. Just like sisters should.”
“Yeah … and maybe I’ll do like you, Erin — just keep the guys at arm’s length for a while.”
“Maybe … but maybe not. There’s some guy stuff I want to talk to you about too, Paige.”
“Really?” She sounds genuinely curious.
“Really.” I sigh. “I need my sister.”
She sniffs. “I need my sister too.”
We express our love for each other again and as we hang up, I feel genuine grief for Paige’s loss. I know she is hurting—deeply. But somehow I believe this is going to be a good thing too. She’s going to learn some powerful lessons from all this pain, and eventually it will make her stronger. I also know I will be here for her. I will stand by her through her heartache, just like I hope she would stand by me. Growing up is hard to do, but I think if we don’t give up and if we help each other, we can get through it. And someday we’ll look back on this whole thing and just laugh. That’s my hope.
ON THE RUNWAY SERIES
Premiere
(Book One)
Catwalk
(Book Two)
Rendezvous
(Book Three)
Spotlight
(Book Four)
CARTER HOUSE GIRLS SERIES
Mixed Bags
(Book One)
Stealing Bradford
(Book Two)
Homecoming Queen
(Book Three)
Viva Vermont!
(Book Four)
Lost in Las Vegas
(Book Five)
New York Debut
(Book Six)
Spring Breakdown
(Book Seven)
Last Dance
(Book Eight)
BOOKS FOR TEENS
The Secret Life of Samantha McGregor series
Diary of a Teenage Girl series
TrueColors series
Notes from a Spinning Planet series
Degrees series
Piercing Proverbs
By Design series
WOMEN’S FICTION
These Boots Weren’t Made for Walking
On This Day
An Irish Christmas
The Christmas Bus
Crystal Lies
Finding Alice
Three Days
Los Angeles is always hot in the summertime,
but when July stays in the triple digits for a week straight, I am ready to evacuate to my grandma’s house in the mountains.
“You can’t leave me,” Mollie protests as I’m visiting her and two-week-old Baby Fern. “I’m stuck here and I would be totally lost without you.”
“You guys could come with me,” I say quietly as I rock the baby in my arms. Fern’s almost asleep now, sucking on her pacifier, eyelashes fluttering on her cheeks.
Mollie chuckles. “Yeah, right. You’ve told me how your grandmother lives—it’s like going back in time. No, thank you. Besides, what about your grandma’s new boyfriend? She might not want any company with him around.”
“That’s possible.” I lean over the side of Fern’s crib, trying not to disturb her as I gently lay her down, adjusting her pacifier and tucking the baby blanket around her. Fortunately, Mollie’s basement apartment stays nice and cool despite this heat wave.
Satisfied that Fern is down for the count, we go to the other side of the room where we open some sodas and I pop
my
Britain’s Got Style
disc into her DVD player. The episode already aired in England, but it won’t be on our show until early August. “Like I told you, Paige was supposed to be a judge,” I explain as Mollie turns on the TV.
“But she was nursing a hangover,” Mollie fills in.
“Right. Anyway, I was wearing an earpiece, and Dylan was supposed to be feeding me fashion critique.”
“Seriously?” She frowns at me.
“Yeah, it sounds lame now, but at the time it made sense.”
“So what’s going on with that jerk anyway?” She pauses the DVD. “Give me the dirt on Dylan.”