CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Megan POV
Next morning, I woke having a hangover. Even after a hot bath.
My head was sliting into two. I heard a shrill ringing of my doorbell.
“Coming!” I croaked, wrapping a satin robe around myself and shuffling to the door.
I cracked it open to find a wild-eyed Lilly on the other side. She barged past me into the apartment.
“What on earth happened last night after I left?” She whirled on me, waving her phone accusingly. “This whole damn city is buzzing about you and some mystery man!”
I squinted at the screen. Sure enough, the gossip blogs were plastered with blurry pics – me being carried from the club by a shirtless, muscular figure.
My stomach dropped as flashes of memory returned… Chris saving me. Him unzipping my dress. The tantalizing Instagram post.
“Oh god…” I sank onto the sofa, mortified. “I never meant to…”
“Never meant to WHAT exactly?” Lilly demanded. “Give the vultures more meat to gnaw on your personal life?”
She shoved her phone in my face again – this time showing my suggestive Insta post about a “caring boyfriend.”
Deep shame and embarrassment washed over me in hot waves. I cupped my face in trembling hands.
“Someone just kills me now…”
Fragmented images assaulted me. Chris’s carved abdominals as he undressed me with surprising tenderness.
The scorching eye contact. My drunken, wanton teasing.
What had I done?
This was Chris – my collaborator, my client. I’d potentially torpedoed everything with one senseless, sloshed social media mistake.
“Just… stop.” Lilly’s exasperated voice broke through my spiral. “Talk to me, miss Williams. What the hell is going on?”
I took a shuddering breath, forcing the words out in a rush.
“Last night got… out of hand. I had too much, and that creep Miles came back to haunt me. But then…” I swallowed hard. “Chris showed up. Stopped those jerks cold.”
Lilly’s face registered shock, then a glimmer of understanding. Her voice softened.
“He brought you back home, what a gentle man?”
I nodded miserably. “And I… I did something dumb. Took advantage of the situation…”
“Ah,” she murmured, putting the pieces together.
We sat in tense silence for a long moment.
“I need to fix this,” I declared hoarsely. “Make things right with Chris before the fallout gets worse.”
“Or…” Lilly licked her lips thoughtfully. “You could just roll with it for now.”
I shot her an incredulous look.
“Hear me out. The whole ‘Megan’s dating her hot, reclusive ghostwriter’ angle? Pure publicity gold for the book, not to mention humanizing you a bit.”
She raised an imperious eyebrow. “Unless… you’re objecting for personal reasons?”
My mouth worked soundlessly as heat flooded my cheeks.
Dating him?
Lilly watched me carefully before nodding once, brisk and decisive.
“Right then – I’ll handle the clean up and spinning on this end. Just get your pretty boxer butt over to Chris’s place and make nice before those photos go nuclear. Chop chop!”
She turned on her spike heel and strode for the door, already dialing rapidly.
I could only stare after her in disbelieving exasperation, head pounding.
Looked like the reckoning with Chris was coming sooner than I thought.
Just fantastic.
“Wait!” I called but she was out already. ” I don’t think I’m ready to face him.” I trailed off.
…..
A day passed and I hunkered down in my apartment paralyzed by dread and embarrassment.
I couldn’t face Chris – not after making such a drunken spectacle of myself.
The headlines and speculative articles just kept coming, fueled by my teasing Instagram post.
“Megan’s Mystery Man: New Boyfriend or One Night Stand?”
One night stand my ass! I didn’t even know what really happened?
What get into me to post the stupid picture!?
“Boxing Champ’s Battered Heart Healed by Hunk?”
The vultures with eat me Alive!
I cringed at each new salacious take, wanting to curl up and disappear. Just as I was spiraling into maximum cringe, a stern rap sounded at my door.
I froze, until a gruff voice barked, “Open up and quit moping, kiddo!”
Grimacing, I shuffled to let in my acerbic trainer, Jane.
“Well aren’t you just a pathetic sight,” she said, taking in my disheveled state. “Acting like a bashful teenager instead of the baddest woman on the planet.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she silenced me with a piercing look.
“Save it. This whole ‘woe is me’ act over one measly night of idiocy? Not what I’ve been beating into that thick skull of yours all these years.”
Jane jabbed a finger at the TV, where breathless cable hosts debated my supposed new romance.
“Either you fess up to dating Writer Boy and commit to it… or you stuff these vultures once and for all by denying the whole thing. But quit pussyfooting around.”
I pouted, a last vestige of defiance. “But then they’ll say I’m still messed up over that dickbag Miles…”
Jane tossed back her head with a bark of laughter.
“That’s what’s got your panties in a twist? Are you kidding me?” Her gaze was pure scorn. “You’re Megan freaking Hartwell. The second you own your decisions, these jackals will fall in line, trust me.”
Her tone turned serious, leaning in close with that piercing stare.
“But you have to make a decision – one way or the other, no wishy-washy bullshit. The world’s watching, kid. Time to show ’em how a real woman handles her business.”
I swallowed hard, feeling immensely small under her scrutiny despite our vastly different statures.
Was she right? Did I need to just bite the bullet, lay everything bare for once?
More importantly… what exactly did I want from Chris after our alcohol-fueled encounter?
He was just a contracted writer for my biography Memoir!
The thoughts chased each other in dizzying circles until a vein pulsed at my temple. Jane watched me impassively, arms folded.
Finally, jaw clenched, I speared her with a resolved look.
“You’re right. This childish crap ends now.”
I squared my shoulders, a plan formulating.
“I owe Chris one hell of an explanation at minimum. After that…”
The corner of Jane’s mouth quirked upward.
“That’s my girl. Go get ‘im, tiger.” She encouraged.