been at Leo pulled me back down, even as I continued to fight to stay above.
I was drowning and I knew it. Worst of all, I deserved it.
Time moved as it does in small towns—slowly, and without change. The job really did help keep my mind occupied. It was easy and almost fun, but for the fact that enjoying things was difficult for me. I took pictures of the custard, sometimes the customers, and posted them to the accounts online. I wrote press releases in the build up to the new shop in New Hampshire, and helped organize a town-wide party for the shop’s forty-fifth birthday. Delaney—and more importantly, her dad—were more than happy with the work I was doing.
“It’s lucky for us you came back,” Mr. Day said. “There’s no way we could have done this without you.”
I was pretty sure he was just being nice, but I decided to take the compliment. Because slowly, life was becoming almost bearable again. I was smiling and laughing more, even though sometimes it hurt to do so. I connected with some old friends I’d lost touch with. I hung out at Joe’s Tavern with Delaney after work, where we’d down beers and fried clams and talk about it all. Slowly, I unfolded the sordid details of L.A., and Delaney listened, never once judging me for anything I’d done.
It was a fine life, even if somehow it all felt like it was happening behind a pane of glass—as if it wasn’t truly happening to me anymore.
But I’d accepted that this was my life, and I did my best not to wonder about Leo anymore, not to think about him, or cry, or google him and see that his life continued on without me.
Until one rainy day, at the check-out line of the grocery store, I decided to buy a gossip magazine. I’d steadfastly avoided them since leaving the west coast, but I foolishly thought enough time had passed and it was safe to indulge in a little mindless gossip.
I didn’t see it until I was back in my apartment, soaking wet from the rain. I was sitting in my favorite brown chair that faced the window, watching the downpour. It was a small item, but the impact was huge.
Fast-Tracked, Secret Armstrong Project Has Tongues Wagging
Leo Armstrong, infamous ladies’ man and head of Epix Studios, has already begun principal photography on a closely-guarded film. The plot is said to be centered around a powerful industry insider who is taken advantage of by a young, hungry reporter—something that all but mirrors Armstrong’s own experience with former magazine editor Sophie Scott, who famously dated Armstrong as part of a sensational undercover story for Crush magazine. Cast and location are under wraps, but word is the film is slated to hit theaters in just two months.
Had I really thought Leo would sit back and let all of Hollywood laugh at him for falling for girl like me? Did I really think he’d do nothing? He had said that when something ended, he walked away and didn’t look back. I guess he’d changed his stance—he could drop a grenade of revenge on me as he walked coolly away. And could I blame him?
“We need alcohol,” Delaney said later that evening when I showed her the article. I’d spent the rest of the day online trying to find out more about the movie but got nothing. There were a dozen stories about how secret it was, and loose facts about the plot, but it was mostly speculation on what I’d already read. When I saw a picture of Leo walking down a street in Beverly Hills with a curvy brunette by his side, I quickly accepted Delaney’s offer, and met her at Joe’s Tavern.
“Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,” Delaney said. We were belly-up to the worn bar, arms resting on the dull brass railing. She’d already told me about a meeting she had with some dairy farmers, but said it wasn’t for another hour and she could totally do it buzzed. “The movie might be sweet.”
“Leo Armstrong doesn’t do sweet and he doesn’t do halfway,” I said, tipping back a shot of tequila. I cringed at the burn, chasing it with beer. I hoped to be numb, body and soul, within the hour. “Chances are, it’s going to be worse than I can imagine.” I wondered where he was right then, at that exact moment. It was the middle of the afternoon in Los