by Elena Aitken
Chapter Sixteen
Gwen pulled the covers over her head as the knocking got louder.
“Let me in!” Deanna called through the door. “Gwen!”
She buried her head deeper into her pillows and willed her friend to go away. Everything was messed up. She’d ruined everything.
“Gwen!”
She couldn’t face her friend. She couldn’t face anyone. Ian hated her. He’d looked at her with such cold in his eyes. The same eyes that only that morning had been filled with love. A love she’d never felt from anyone before. And now…
“Gwen! I will break this door down.”
She pulled the pillow tighter over her head but still managed to hear Deanna talking—to Marcus, she assumed. “Get a screwdriver. I’m taking it off.”
She wouldn’t. Not that Gwen actually cared if she did.
All she cared about was…she didn’t care about anything. She couldn’t even cry anymore. The tears wouldn’t come. It was as if her entire body had shut down. At least, that’s how it felt.
“Okay. Just a little…and now…”
Shit. They were coming in. Not that she could move even if there was anywhere to go, which there wasn’t.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, the mattress sagged under Deanna’s weight as she sat down next to her. “You need to get up.”
“No.”
“Gwen. It’s not that bad.”
“You’re right. It’s worse.” She pulled the quilt tight around her face. “He hates me.”
Deanna’s hand rested lightly on her back. “He doesn’t hate you.”
“He does, Dee. You didn’t see his face.” Just thinking about it again twisted her stomach and hurt her heart. “He told me I was ugly.”
“He didn’t mean it.”
“He did.” She choked back a sob. “I was going to tell him everything. I went there ready to tell him who I was and…”
“What happened?”
“His brother and sister beat me to it.”
“Well, surely…seriously, I can’t talk to you through the blanket.” A second later, Deanna pulled the blanket back from her face. Gwen blinked in the light of the room, which was actually pretty dark with the blinds drawn. “That’s better,” Deanna said. “There has to be something else. I can understand that he’d be mad that you lied about who you are, but not relationship-ender mad. Did something else happen?”
Something else happened, all right. She’d been a friggin’ idiot. That’s what had happened. After Ian’s harsh words, she’d somehow managed to stumble home and the very first thing she’d done is grabbed her laptop and gone to her website.
That’s when she saw it and knew that Ian hated her. Somehow, instead of publishing the last post she’d written, the one about how much she regretted her actions and that she loved Ian, she’d inadvertently managed to post the blog her agent wanted her to write. The one where she was basically a bitch and completely out of line in her behavior. What was worse…she already had thousands of hits and hundreds of comments encouraging her and saying terrible things about Mr. Summer.
About Ian. The man who said he loved her. The man she was in love with. He didn’t deserve those things said about him. And he’d read them. Those hurtful, awful things.
All because of what she’d written.
Those people on the other side of the computer screen didn’t even know Ian. They only knew the stories she’d been telling them. And for what? For her own personal advancement.
She made herself sick to her stomach. She was a terrible person. Of course Ian hated her. He should. She hated herself.
“I accidentally published a post I never should have written.”
Gwen watched Deanna’s face change as she realized what must have happened. “What did the post say?”
She shook her head. She wouldn’t rehash it.
“I’ll just look myself.” Deanna turned to grab Gwen’s laptop.
“Don’t bother.” She stopped her. “I deleted it. Not that it matters.”
“What was it?” Her friend shook her head. “No. Don’t tell me. I can imagine. Gwen, why? Why would you write about this?”
Gwen struggled to sit up. “I didn’t mean to publish it. I didn’t even want to write it,” she sobbed. “I’d just gotten off the phone with Jade and she was pressuring me and…so I wrote it. But I didn’t publish it. And then this afternoon, I decided it was all too much and everything was getting out of hand.”
“No kidding?”
Gwen ignored her friend’s tone. “I needed to put a stop to it. To everything. So I wrote out this long post about how I loved Ian and everything I’d done was wrong and I wouldn’t be sharing any of the details anymore and then, just before I went to find him to come clean, I hit the Post button.” Deanna raised her eyebrows. “Only I must have hit an extra button or something, because I ended up posting the other one. The entry I wrote under pressure. It was an accident.” Her sobs came harder and finally, tears began to flow. “I don’t know why I just didn’t delete it. But it was an accident and now it’s too late. I’ve ruined everything.”
Deanna watched her while she sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve. Finally, she pulled Gwen into her arms and held her tight. She rubbed slow circles on her back and let Gwen soak her beautiful dress with her tears.
“It’ll be okay.”
Gwen shook her head.
“It will,” Deanna said, a little bit more forcefully this time. “You’re a good person who made a bad choice. You’ll fix it.”
Gwen pulled back, sniffed loudly and asked, “How?”
“Do what you do best.” Deanna smiled kindly and handed her a box of tissues. “Write about it. From the heart.”
*
So early in the season, the air on the lake was still cool and just crisp enough to sting Ian’s cheeks as he opened up the throttle and pushed the boat to the limits on the empty lake. He hadn’t bothered turning the navigation lights on. There was no one else on the lake. It was nothing but a vast, empty stretch of blackness.
Just like he felt.
No matter how he tried, Ian couldn’t wrap his head around anything that had happened. Gwen was Gigi.
Fine.
He wouldn’t have cared about that except for the fact that she didn’t tell him. But even then, he could get past that. Mostly, he felt like an idiot that he hadn’t seen it. Had he really been so blinded by the woman in front of him that he couldn’t remember her from his past? But he’d blocked a lot of things from that summer. So maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe.
Still. He should have seen it.
He’d been played for a fool and even worse than that, she’d used him.
Ian slammed his hand down on the steering wheel and pressed down on the throttle, urging the boat to go faster into the night. He knew he was pushing too hard. The boat was still new, the engine not entirely broken in, and the guy who sold it to him warned him of excessive speeds. It was meant to be a rental, so he wasn’t too worried about it. And he’d forgotten all about the salesman’s warning until a shrill warning signal sounded.
“Shit!”
Ian knew at once what had happened. He pulled back on the throttle, putting the boat in neutral, and turned it off. He’d overheated. Nothing to do but wait it out.
He yanked the keys out, cutting the warning signal, and tossed them on the driver’s seat. It was probably for the best. He needed time to cool down. The way he was driving, he likely would have burned the boat out of gas before getting it back to the marina. He needed a break.
Ian went to the back of the boat, laid on the vinyl bench and stared up at the stars. They filled the sky unlike anything he’d ever seen. Not even off the deck of the cabin could he see so many stars, due to the ambient light.
He forced himself to take a deep breath. And then another. And then another until the anger was replaced by a hurt. A deep, throbbing, hard-to-breathe hurt.
*
The party was ove
r, thank God. No doubt Chelsea and Mitch managed to get rid of everyone. He’d have to remember to thank them later because he was definitely not in the mood for celebrating anything at all. The second he pulled the boat up to the dock, he hopped out and grabbed the rope to tie it up. A moment later, Mitch was there.
“About time you got back, big brother.” Mitch’s arms were crossed, but he didn’t look mad. “Chelsea is going to—”
“I’m going to kill you, Ian.”
“That.” Mitch smiled and moved out of the way as Chelsea ran down the dock.
“Do you know how worried I was about you? You can’t do that.” She smacked her palm against his chest. “It’s pitch black out there and your cell phone is sitting on the desk inside and—”
“I’m fine.” And if you didn’t count a completely shattered heart, he was.
Chelsea took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Are you? I’m sorry I showed you that website.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He avoided the first question. “I needed to see it.”
Together, they all walked up the dock toward the office.
“Maybe you did,” Chelsea said. “But maybe you didn’t need to see it like that. I honestly thought you knew and were in on it.”
“Nope.” He kept walking. Now that he was back, all he wanted was to go home and go to bed and forget the night ever happened. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it all over again.
“Ian, I really think—”
He held up a hand, silencing her. “No,” he said. “I don’t want to hear it, okay? I know you’re concerned and I’m sorry I worried you. I am. And thank you for getting rid of the party.” He turned to address Mitch as well. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I get that, but I really think—”
“Not one more word, Chels. I’m serious.”
They continued walking in silence and both Chelsea and Mitch honored his request for silence. No one spoke another word as they closed up the Dockside, loaded up into the jeep and drove home. It wasn’t until Mitch cut the engine that he broke the silence.
“I’m sorry, Ian.”
Ian almost laughed. “For what?”
“It was my fault,” Mitch said. “I shouldn’t have…well, I shouldn’t have outed her like that.”
“She shouldn’t have lied,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“No,” Mitch agreed. “But…there has to be more to it.”
“Maybe.” They got out of the car and walked to the house. “And the lying—that’s not the worst part. I probably could have forgiven her that. But the website…”
They walked into the living room and Ian went straight to the fridge for a beer. Changing his mind, he moved to the cabinet, found a bottle of Scotch and poured himself a healthy shot.
Chelsea lifted her eyebrows, but wisely didn’t comment on his drink. “I know you don’t want to talk about this right now, but—”
“I’m talking now.” Ian shot back the Scotch and poured himself another one.
“When I showed you Gwen’s website, I hadn’t read her latest post.”
“And?” Ian eyed his drink, but resisted the urge to swallow it down. Getting drunk wasn’t going to solve anything.
“It was different.” Chelsea crossed the room to get her laptop from the coffee table. “It sounded different than any of her other posts.” While she spoke, she busied herself clicking and typing. “It’s gone now.”
“Shocker.” With a shake of his head, he downed the drink. On second thought, getting drunk sounded pretty damn good after all.
Chelsea ignored him and kept scrolling. “I mean it, Ian. You should see this.”
Ian reached for the bottle, but Mitch’s hand on his arm stopped him. “You should listen to her. Just for a minute.”
Ian yanked his hand away and stomped across the room to where Chelsea was sitting. “What?” he demanded.
His little sister looked up at him, his own hurt reflected in her eyes. “Don’t give up so easily, Ian. Read this. All of it.” She moved aside, giving him room to sit down on the couch in front of the laptop.
He blinked hard and focused on the screen in front of him.
It was Gwen’s site.
“No.” He pushed the laptop away. “I don’t need to read any more of this.”
“Please.” Something in Chelsea’s voice caused him to pause. “Just start from the beginning.”
Reluctantly, Ian looked at the computer again. The beginning.
The date on the blog post was dated five years previously. He looked up at Chelsea in question.
“The beginning,” she repeated.
With a sigh, Ian turned and started to read.
*
Dear Reader,
Ha! That’s kind of crazy to write since this is my very first post and I doubt anyone will ever read it, but I’m not really sure how else to start this. My name is Gwen. Also known as Giant Gigi. And that’s what I’m here to change. I’ve been living my life as an overweight, unhappy, depressed, stunted version of myself and even though I’m much larger than I should be, I’m currently living a very small life.
That changes today.
And that is why I’m writing this today.
It’s time for me to get real and start living. So even if nobody ever reads this, just writing and publishing my journey will help keep me accountable and more importantly, it will help keep me honest. I’m ready to live the best life I can.
Who’s with me?
*
Ian finished reading and sat back, unsure of what to think. The words he’d just finished reading were raw and real. They sounded like Gwen and he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the woman who’d typed that post. But proud, too. He scrolled down to read the comments. There were only three, but they were all supportive and all three had a common theme: Gwen wasn’t alone. All of the commenters felt the same way she did. Instantly Ian knew it was because of the writing and the tone Gwen had used. Open. Honest. Real.
Chelsea was right. It was very different than the post he’d read earlier that night.
Not that it mattered any. Time had likely changed her and her attitude. That was evident from what he’d read earlier.
But still, he was intrigued. Ian scrolled down to the next post.
*
Dear Reader,
And there are at least a few of you! You have no idea how excited that makes me to think that you care enough to read my words. But I know it’s not just my words. I know from your comments and the emails you sent that you feel the same way I do.
I knew I wasn’t alone!
And that makes this so much better because we’re going to do this together. Are you ready? It’s time to get fit and healthy and live our best lives.
*
The post went on to discuss diet and exercise and Gwen encouraged readers to comment and let her know what their plans were. And her readers did just that. There were even more comments than the previous post and Gwen responded to each and every one.
He dove in and read another post.
And then another.
And pretty soon he was sucked in by her upfront, honest, and very real approach. As he read, it was clear that Gwen’s readership built up with each post she made. He read about the first time she walked into a gym. Her efforts at healthier eating. And he even looked at pictures of her progress. Her bravery and willingness to be so open and raw about something that was so intensely personal astonished him.
Ian wasn’t sure how long he’d been reading when he sat back and ran his hands through his hair. “This is really something,” he said to Chelsea and Mitch. “Have you guys…read this?”
He looked around the room but it was empty. They’d left him to his reading, and he hadn’t noticed. Not that it mattered. He had a lot more reading to do. Ian picked up the laptop and settled into the couch to read the next post.
Chapter Seventeen
Gwen finally sent Deanna to bed after they’
d finished off the tub of frozen yogurt. It certainly wasn’t double fudge Häagen-Dazs, but it would have to do. Especially considering it was Gwen who convinced her friend to buy the lower-fat yogurt. And it was too bad, too, because when Gwen licked the last spoonful clean, she wasn’t satisfied. And she certainly didn’t feel any better. But she was pretty sure that not even triple fudge, double chocolate chunk, full-fat ice cream would help her feel better. The hurt she had inside her was definitely not going to be fixed by ice cream.
Not this time.
She wasn’t sure what was going to make her feel better, but the longer Gwen sat at the empty kitchen table feeling sorry for herself, the worse she felt. She’d worked too hard on herself over the years to let this derail all the work she’d done.
She could fix it.
Maybe it was the sugar, or the excessive amount of dairy. Maybe it was the late hour and exhaustion had finally taken over. Whatever the reason was, hope surged through her for the first time all night.
Ian hated her and at the moment, she didn’t blame him. She’d hurt him. Badly. And maybe she couldn’t fix that. At least not right away. But she could at least try. And that’s exactly what she was going to do.
Gwen had promised Deanna she wouldn’t touch her laptop until morning, but it was a promise that had to be broken. Besides, she was much calmer now and at the very least, she was rational and not sobbing uncontrollably. So really, it was as if all the reasons she’d promised Deanna were moot points.
Besides, Dee was sleeping.
She grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, bypassing the bottle of white wine. As much as she could use a drink to calm herself down, Gwen knew it was a slippery slope and she needed to be stone-cold sober for what she was about to do. She didn’t want any reason to have regrets. If everything that had happened since she’d been back in Cedar Springs had taught her anything, it was that she was done living life with regrets.
Gwen turned the lights off behind her and retreated to the guest bedroom and her bed. She pulled the blankets up around her and made herself comfortable with the pillows behind her. She didn’t plan to go anywhere for a while, so she needed to be comfortable. When she was finally ready, Gwen flipped open the laptop and went straight to her inbox.
