Had Sweet Louise known she was Sage Advice? Why would she have set them up if she had?
Pierce could only sit there and watch Noah take Chloe away from him. Chloe was Sage Advice. How was that even possible? He’d been so embarrassed after his public breakup with Brittany. The worst part about it was that Brit’s letter to Sage Advice was public. Now it would show up in the tabloids.
“Chloe, you really should go. I don’t want to talk to you right now.” He made a decision and turned directly to the camera. “I met Chloe Caldwell last Friday night. It was a blind date. There was an accident with my car, and her foot got stuck between the curb and the car. It was completely my fault. She took the blame, so I helped her find a fake fiancé. It couldn’t be me because most people think we’re related. I apologize for my part in this.” He slid out of the booth and headed for the door.
Outside, he saw Noah helping Chloe into his car.
“Pierce, let me explain.” She tried to get to him.
He held up a hand. “Not now. I need some time.”
Deep down he knew it wasn’t her fault, but in all of the time they’d spent together, she had never mentioned that she was Sage Advice. And why would she? She’d known about his ex-fiancé, but he hadn’t told her about the letter to Sage Advice.
He slid behind the wheel of his Cadillac Escalade. His phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. It was Chloe. He turned it off and tossed it on the passenger’s seat. He needed some time to wrap his head around things.
For two hours he just drove around the city barely noticing his surroundings. It was too surreal. Chloe was Sage Advice.
He loved Chloe and he hadn’t loved Brit. It was so clear to him. Chloe made him want to be a better man … the best possible version of himself. Brittany had never made him happy. She had been a nice diversion, but it wouldn’t have lasted … it couldn’t have lasted, because he hadn’t loved her. If he was being honest with himself, he was thankful that they hadn’t married. She was welcome to her podiatrist, and he sincerely hoped they made each other happy.
Finally, he wound up in Chloe’s neighborhood. Her street had news vans lining both sides of the street. He counted ten different news outlets and what had to be at least thirty people standing on her front lawn. He didn’t stop at her house but went several blocks past it and pulled to the curb in front of an apartment building.
He had to save Chloe. She must be inside panicking. He grabbed his phone and turned it on. His screen blew up with messages. There were six missed calls from Chloe, two from Sweet Louise, five from Karen, and one from Brittany.
He called Chloe first, but it went to voicemail. He called Sweet Louise.
She picked up on the first ring. “Is Chloe okay?”
He had a sinking feeling. “What do you mean? I just called her, and it went straight to voicemail.”
“She called me and asked for Brittany’s phone number so she could call and make amends.” Sweet Louise took a deep breath. “Why did you throw Chloe under the bus on live TV?”
“What?” He didn’t remember doing that.
“You told the world all about her fake fiancé plan. TMZ twisted it into a story about how she blackmailed you into finding her a fiancé or she was going to tell the world that you ran over her. I don’t know why the media gives football players a pass. All that testosterone makes y’all do the dumbest things.” Sweet Louise was mad. He could tell by the evenness in her voice. “What kind of jackass does that to the woman he loves?”
“How did you know I’m in love with her?” Hell, he’d only just figured it out himself. “Wait, do you think she’s in love with me?”
His heart fluttered in his chest. Could she be in love with him?
“Anyone who’s been in the same room with the two of you can see that y’all have fallen hard for each other.” Sweet Louise made it sound like he was the dumbest person around. He looked around. He was the only person around. “Chloe wanted Brittany’s number so she could patch things up between the two of you. That’s what people in love do. They put the happiness of the person they’re in love with above their own.”
So that was why Brittany had called him.
“Now that I think about it, you’re probably not in love with Chloe, because you certainly didn’t put her happiness above your own when you threw her under the bus.” The more measured and quieter her tone became, the madder she was. “You need to fix this now.”
She hung up.
He called Chloe again and it still went directly to voicemail. Why wasn’t she picking up? Had something bad happened to her? Was she holed up in her house, terrified to come out? He’d done this to her. He’d told the world about their arrangement. Actually, it wasn’t an arrangement so much as the only way he could repay her, and now he’d screwed that up.
It was time for some serious grovelling.
He pulled away from the curb and turned down the next side street. He parked a block away from Chloe’s house and got out of his car. He counted three houses down. This house should back up to Chloe’s backyard. He walked to the front door and knocked.
He would have just hopped the fence and gone through the backyard to Chloe’s, but this was Texas, where people took trespassing seriously.
The door opened and a man wearing nothing but a white muscle shirt and some workout shorts answered. He had a piece of pepperoni pizza sticking out of his mouth. His eyes went huge. “You’re Pierce Rogan,” he said around the pizza.
“Yes, I am. I was wondering if I could walk through your backyard to get to the house behind yours.” He threw the man a huge smile.
The man glanced behind him at his backyard and then back at Pierce. He pulled the pizza out of his mouth. “Sure, but can I have a picture first?” He motioned for Pierce to come in. “Let me get my phone.”
Pierce stood beside the man and smiled.
The man clicked off a selfie with him, Pierce, and the pizza slice. He nodded toward the backyard. “Help yourself.”
Pierce went through the living room and opened the sliding door and was running through the yard and hopping the fence in no time. Chloe’s house was dark.
He pulled his key ring out of his trouser pocket and crossed his fingers that the key he’d taken from the junk drawer also worked for the back door. It did, and he was in the kitchen in no time.
“Hey, Chloe, it’s Pierce. Are you here?”
No one called back. He walked into the master bedroom, but it was empty. He checked every square inch of the house, but Chloe wasn’t home. Where in the hell was she?
He sat down on the sofa to wait for her. He pulled out his phone in case she called him again. He stared at the screen. There were tons of Twitter notifications. He clicked on one. “Relationship expert Chloe Caldwell, PhD, lies to the world and blackmails Pierce Rogan into finding her a fake fiancé.”
He pulled up another one. “Relationship counselor blackmails NFL tight end.”
He went to another one. They all said the same thing, one after another.
He wanted to go back in time and tell himself to keep his damn mouth shut. He knew better than to comment to reporters, especially the gossip kind.
Fifteen minutes later, he was really beginning to worry. He called her phone again, and it went to voicemail.
He stood to pace. Pacing was good, it cleared his mind. He looked down and saw his footprints in the carpet. As long as he was pacing, he might as well run the vacuum cleaner while he paced. He got the upright vacuum out of the hall closet and fired it up.
He vacuumed the entire house. Still nothing from Chloe. He returned the vacuum to the closet and found a mop and bucket. He’d do the kitchen and then the bathrooms. He rolled the mop and bucket into the kitchen, added hot water to the bucket along with some Pine-Sol from under the sink, took off his shoes and socks, and rolled up his trousers. He mopped the kitchen floor like his life depended on it, and then he went after the bathroom floors with a vengeance.
An hour later, he
was knee deep into scrubbing the master bath’s tub, when his phone rang. He answered it, not bothering to look at the display. “Chloe?”
“No, it’s Karen. I’m calling to tell you that I’m disappointed in you and that I quit. You should leave Chloe alone from now on. Bye.” She hung up on him.
His surrogate mom hated him, Sweet Louise was mad at him, and Chloe was nowhere to be found. And he was running out of things to clean.
A thought struck. He knew the best way to get in touch with her. He went to her office and fired up her laptop. He prayed that she didn’t have it password protected. He sighed with relief when it went directly to her home screen full of icons. He hit the one for the internet and pulled up Sage Advice’s website. He typed:
Dear Sage Advice,
I hurt the woman I love tonight and I need to know how to fix it. When we first met, we certainly didn’t get along, but after spending time with her, I fell hard for her. She’s kind and generous and loving. She willingly took the blame for my mistake and refused to let me take any of the responsibility. I found out that she was in a bit of a bind, so I volunteered to help her. She refused and tried to talk me out of it, but I was determined. I roped her into allowing me to help her.
Her only fault was telling a tiny lie to avoid unwanted advances from a coworker, but that lie grew until her back was against the wall. She couldn’t see her way out without using a fake fiancé.
I am so sorry for hurting her, and I’d like to make amends, but first I need to find her.
Sage Advice, please have Chloe Caldwell get in touch with me.
All my love,
Pierce Rogan, a.k.a. Dr. Jamison Van Card
He posted it to her website along with links to the article for Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.
He just needed to find her and make sure she was safe, and then he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her. Now he was off to find her missing strawberry Pop-Tarts.
Chapter 18
Chloe stared at the small fire burning in the rustic, river-rock fireplace. Noah had built the fire in the small cabin he had on Lake Buchanan. She’d asked him to take her somewhere that no one would find her, and they’d ended up here.
“Thanks for letting me use your cabin. You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine by myself.” People she didn’t know were saying terrible things about her all over the internet. She just needed to get away for a few days and regroup. It was safe to say that her career, at least as an adult-relationship counselor, was over. And no parent in the world would want their troubled child to see a counselor who had been caught in a very public lie. Yep, her career was completely over. She was so destroyed inside that tears wouldn’t come.
“I’m not leaving you.” Noah sat on the brown leather sofa next to her. “What are you going to do now?”
She had enough money to live on. She’d sell her house and move somewhere far away where no one knew her. She shook her head. With the internet, there was nowhere she could go where people wouldn’t know her.
“I need to move somewhere that doesn’t have internet.” She smiled sadly. “Any ideas? I’m open to suggestions.”
He scratched the back of his head. “Maybe Siberia?”
Yep, she’d definitely have to move to somewhere where she didn’t speak the language but could have food and other supplies delivered as she started her life as a shut-in.
Did Amazon deliver to Siberia? If they did, wouldn’t that mean that the people there had the internet? How else would they order from Amazon?
Could she download American movies from iTunes in Siberia?
She’d spend the rest of her days doing some sort of craft, like knitting or throwing pottery, while binge-watching movies and TV shows. She’d eat her fill of gummy strawberries and Pop-Tarts. Was there a Russian version of a Pop-Tart? She really liked the American ones, so she’d have to have them imported.
If she never left her house and only used the internet to download movies and TV shows, she could never screw up anyone else’s life.
“How about I make us something to eat?” Noah touched her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” He stood. “Canned soup work for you?”
She tried to smile, but her facial muscles weren’t having it. “Thanks, that would be great.”
She loved Pierce, and now he would never speak to her again. She’d given up calling him. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk to her. It hurt so much and so deep that she didn’t know how she would survive the next sixty or seventy years without him. She’d never felt anything like this before.
Love sucked. She wanted to punch every single romantic comedy leading man, and the women too, for that matter. She was done with romantic comedies. It was time for her to grow up. From now on, she was only watching sad, depressing, Academy Award–winning movies. She would live a life without joy as her punishment for her crimes. She deserved it.
Noah’s phone rang like an old landline telephone.
He pulled it out of his trouser pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s Sweet Louise.” He answered it. “Hello.”
She heard Sweet Louise’s voice, but she couldn’t make out any of the words.
“Yes, she’s with me.” Noah paused. “No, we aren’t at my house.” He nodded. “I’m not telling you where we are, because you’ll tell Pierce, and then I’ll have to kill him.”
Another long pause. “No, we’re not at my cabin.” His voice was high and squeaky. “Fine.” He hung up. “Sweet Louise is on her way.”
“I guess she didn’t fall for the old we’re-not-at-my-cabin routine?” Chloe smiled. Sweet Louise could run the world with both of her hands tied behind her back.
Chloe stared into the fire like it would reveal what she should do next. Her publisher would want their advance back and probably the costs they’d incurred so far. She had no idea how much that would be, but she would pay it. She knew what she should do. She could use all of the printed copies of her book to build her new house in Siberia, or possibly some very remote part of Alaska. She was relatively sure iTunes worked there.
Yes, she’d build a house made out of books on the top of a mountain in Alaska in some remote part that didn’t have many people but where Amazon still offered next-day delivery and Grubhub delivered food.
In a couple of decades, the people in the village below the mountain would wonder if that crazy lady who never left her home was still alive. After all, the only person who’d seen her in the last twenty years was the UPS man who had to get her signature for deliveries of high-dollar merchandise. But then that UPS driver would retire, and people in town would have a bet going on as to whether anyone had ever really lived in that weird book house on top of the mountain. Decades later, she would slip and hit her head and never regain consciousness. Her body would be entombed in a decaying book house until some sort of natural disaster actually caused it to crumble and slide down the mountain, to be forever lost in the snowpack.
In twenty thousand years, archaeologists would find her perfectly preserved, frozen body and declare that the twentieth and the twenty-first centuries had caused such terrible climate change that natural resources had been all but depleted. The only resources they had left to build houses were hardback books written by second-rate, lying relationship therapists who’d never really had a long-term relationship.
“You look sad. What are you thinking about?” Noah held out a bowl of steaming tomato soup.
“I was just thinking about my future. It looks pretty bleak.” She took the soup. “Thanks for bringing me here and making me dinner.”
She was almost certain that Pierce would have a comment on how canned soup was poisonous. Or he would have, if he were still talking to her and cared that she was eating poisonous food.
She finished her soup and tried to stand to take the bowl to the kitchen and wash it out.
“Don’t worry about that.” Noah took her bowl. “There’s a dresser full of clothes in the master bedroom, which is u
pstairs on the right. Why don’t you go change?”
“Thanks.” She tried to smooth down wrinkles in the bodice of her green dress. “I do feel a little overdressed.”
In the bedroom at the top of the stairs, she found a dresser full of clothes. She pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a black T-shirt. She sat on the huge, king-sized bed and changed clothes. Because she had only been wearing the shelf bra in the dress, she was going partially lady-commando.
She glanced at the attached bath. She would have loved to take a long, hot soak in his huge bathtub, but she couldn’t get her cast wet. Maybe she could just hold her foot out of the water.
“Chloe, you should come down here,” Noah called from the living room. “There’s something you need to see.” For some reason, he thought it was best for a crutches-bound woman to wobble down the stairs rather than him go upstairs and show her whatever it was.
Carefully, Chloe made her way down the steps. It was odd that it was easier going up than down with the crutches. She finally made it to the living room. She was practically out of breath.
Noah handed her his iPad. “This Sage Advice letter is blowing up the internet.”
She read Pierce’s letter, and then read it again. She couldn’t believe it. He thought everything was his fault. She reread it. “I don’t understand. He thinks everything is his fault?”
Loud pounding came from the front door.
“I expect that’s Pierce. After I saw the letter, I figured he would be showing up here.” Noah went to the door.
Of course, she’d just changed out of her nice dress and was braless in sweatpants and a T-shirt. She hobbled over to the sofa and sat down.
Noah opened the front door, and Pierce burst into the room. “There you are. I’ve been so worried.” He sat down beside her and pulled her into a tight hug. “You have to forgive me.”
“For what? I’m the one who lied to America.” She had no idea what he was apologizing for. “I spoke with Brittany and told her I was sorry. She seemed excited to resume your engagement. Isn’t she married now though?”
Sage Advice Page 14
