“Watch me.”
3
Nora
“Nora, over here. Look over here.”
One of the photographers snaps his fingers at me, but I keep my head down as I step out of the SUV and onto the curb.
Bo and Sam are holding the paparazzi at bay, but they can’t stop the words being slung at me.
“Nora, what happened to you? Are you having a mental breakdown?”
“Did Todd break up with you because you wouldn’t sleep with him?”
“Is it true you’re a virgin?”
“Is it true your doctor started you on antidepressants because you’re heartbroken over Todd?”
Jesus, where do these people get their information? It’s on the tip of my tongue to answer each question and set the record straight, but I keep my lips shut and plow through the small crowd. A magazine is thrust in my face, causing my steps to falter.
On the cover is a picture of me and Todd with a giant rip down the center and a smaller picture of Todd’s busted up Porsche. I can’t help it. I smile, even though I know I’ll be paying to fix the damn thing.
Bo pushes the magazine out of the way and ushers me forward.
“Come on, Nora, give us something,” a pap yells.
Yeah, right. I know better. They’ll twist my words, and the next thing I know they’ll have me pregnant with Todd’s love child while being admitted to a rehab facility or a psych ward, or whatever else their wild imaginations can come up with.
As soon as we’re in the building, I let out the breath I’ve been holding.
“Are you okay?’ Sam asks, pushing the button for the elevator.
“I’m fine.”
Sam waits while Bo follows me into the elevator. When the doors close, Bo looks at me.
“Now tell me the truth. How are you holding up?”
“I’m not,” I say, fighting back tears.
My stupid tear ducts have been working overtime for the last three days while I stayed holed up in my house, per Becky and my lawyer’s instructions. Finally, today I got the all-clear to come out, but I had to promise to go straight to Becky’s office, which is where I am now.
“You’re better than him, Nora girl. I know it hurts right now, but he doesn’t deserve you.”
“I know that.” I sniff and look in the other direction. “But that’s not me. I don’t lose my cool like that.”
“You’re hurt.”
“And overwhelmed. I just need to get this over with and get the hell out of dodge. I need to get away from the press and out of this city so I can clear my head and figure out what I want to do next.”
“Where will you go?”
“Nick’s.”
Bo nods, but he doesn’t look happy—probably because I haven’t asked him to come with me.
We hit the third floor, a bell dings, and the elevator doors slide open. Becky is waiting for us.