her book came out first.”
“Did it do well in the rankings?” I ask.
“I mean, for a no-name author coming out with her first book, she almost broke the top one hundred on Amazon. But I assure you, if I wrote it, it would’ve hit the USA Today because it’s a great story and I’m a much better writer than she is.”
“Has she come out on her blog that she’s writing under a pen name?”
“No,” Erin tells me. “People have speculated, but she denies it’s her because she wants to keep blogging.”
“Unbelievable,” I sigh. “There’s not a damn person you can trust in this industry. Everyone is trying to climb to the top, forgetting that we need to support one another. I can’t tell you how many girls I used to be friends with, and then the minute they get a successful book under their belt, they think they’re hot as shit and their whole attitude changes.”
“If only the readers knew how vindictive half these authors were,” Brynn remarks. “I mean, it makes me sick when Kristen posts on social media under her pen name and readers gawk all over her. I want to put her on blast so badly.”
“Well, I won’t be sending her any more of my books to review.”
“Same here,” Erin adds. “I’m glad I have a good circle of authors to run with. There’s too much drama out there to get mixed up in.”
“Which is why I’m not going to say anything about what Kristen did. The last thing I want to do is create another scandal on Facebook. There’s enough of that going on.”
“I agree,” I tell Brynn. “As much as it sucks, it’s best to just avoid it.” I see the frustration on her face and reach over to give my friend a hug. That story was income, it was lunch money for her kids, it was food on the table. No one deserves to get ripped off like that. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“I’ll get over it,” she dismisses, but I know it’ll weigh on her shoulders for a while. How could it not? Our stories are our hearts, and when people shit on them, tearing them down and leaving nasty reviews, it hurts deeply no matter how thick your skin is. But to have someone steal that story and publish it as their own, that’s beyond wrong.
We quickly change the subject and enjoy the rest of the night and before I know it, it’s after one in the morning. I say good night and head back to my room to find Landon sound asleep, but I don’t feel bad because I needed this time away. So much so, that I ditch Landon for the girls the following night after the signing.
By our last night in Sydney, I’m alone at a random bar down the street from the hotel. Landon and I went out to dinner and got into a nasty fight. I couldn’t even tell you what started the fight because we’ve been bickering so much these past few days. One thing led to another and he called me frigid and unloving, so I called him an asshole. But it was when he threw my week of unfaithfulness in my face, I burst into tears and stormed out, leaving him to eat alone—if he only knew that my unfaithfulness has spanned far beyond just a measly week.
I’ve been sitting in this bar ever since—drinking and missing Alec. Alcohol curbs my anger with Landon, allowing guilt to take over. I’ve never ached for a man as much as I’m aching for Alec. There’s not a second that goes by that I don’t wish I were with him. I know my heart’s choice, its been screaming it to me for months. I’ve been lying for so long, staying in an unhappy marriage and forcing every single emotion with him. I’m depleted and have nothing left in me to give.
I order another shot, pay my tab, and head back to Landon.
If I’m going to do this, I have to do it now because tomorrow we head home and the moment I see my girls, I know I’ll chicken out again. And I can’t do that. I can’t go on like this.
With a good amount of alcohol in my bloodstream, I feel numb when I walk into the room where Landon is packing. I go over and sit on the edge of the bed next to the suitcase and look at the man I fell