Max glanced down to his beer and the tips of his ears reddened. Clearly, he’d been exploring those Web sites today.
“Yes, I cried at the dressmaker’s, but I never, ever yelled at anyone in a store. I don’t do that. And my cousin is an attention-seeking brat, so you can toss out every single word she’s said about me. The same goes for my freshman roommate.”
“Did you really order him to have his tattoo surgically removed before the wedding?”
“Oh my God. Where did you read that? His mother was the one who hated the tattoo. Which was a tiny ankh on the inside of his wrist, by the way. Feel free to call him a pussy. Oh, jeez.” Chloe slapped a hand over her mouth and muttered a muffled “Sorry.”
“That’s fine, but I probably shouldn’t mention the little butterfly tat on my ass.”
“At least that would be something different.”
“For a guy, anyway.”
“Seen a lot of butterfly-graced asses, have you?”
Max winked, giving a flash of his carefree-playboy persona.
“Regardless, it wasn’t true. Just as it’s not true that I bankrupted my parents with the wedding bills, or ordered all my bridesmaids to lose weight, or threw a sample bouquet at the florist’s face.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “But did you sleep with my brother? Because that’s news I could use.”
The question made her laugh, even if her laughter was tinged with despair. “I’m so sorry. If I thought there was any chance of dragging you into this… I was stupid. The isolation of this place lulled me into a false sense of security.”
He nodded. “Was it the woman at the bar last night?”
“I assume so. She recognized me. It was her or one of her friends or one of their friends. It doesn’t matter. That woman can join the long list of people who’ve ratted me out to the paparazzi. My cousin, my neighbor, my hairstylist, my manicurist, the woman who sold me tennis shoes last week. I guess I should just count myself lucky that my gynecologist isn’t a publicity hound.”
“Don’t worry.” He patted her hand. “I’ll fill that gap.”
“Oh, God,” Chloe choked out on a horrified giggle. “That’s terrible.”
“Oh, you’ll get high marks.”
She slapped his thigh hard enough to make him yelp, but when she stopped laughing, the horror was still there, bouncing around inside her hollow chest. “You, um… You wouldn’t talk to them, though, right?”
Max’s normally friendly mouth snapped into a scowl that he aimed at his foot. Though she leaned forward a little, he didn’t meet her eyes. “That’s awful,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with you. But everyone seems to…not that I think you’re like everyone else. I honestly don’t believe you’d talk to the press, but…”
“I mean, it’s awful that you have to think that way, Chloe.”
“I guess,” she murmured, then decided to jump right into the conversation she wanted to have. “So Jenn and I are leaving tomorrow.”
“What?”
“The chaos is only going to get worse. There’s no point in staying, and I don’t want to drag you any deeper into it. So we’re leaving.”
“And then what’s going to happen?”
She shrugged. “The police are still investigating, but the arraignment is coming up soon. Hopefully, as soon as the charges have been filed, interest will die down. It can’t go on much longer. Another scandal will come along. I just have to hold on until all the questions have been answered.”
Max’s hand touched her thigh, his thumb dragging back and forth over one small patch of skin. “What kinds of questions?”
“What were his plans? Will he get jail time? Did he have help?”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know who would’ve helped him. Then again, he never did anything on his own. He’s a total mama’s boy. He owns his own home and car and has a good job, but all of that was provided by his mother.”