from him, that they could talk about what she’d learned. She understood that his past wasn’t his favorite subject—he preferred to suppress the pain—but she thought having a shoulder to cry on might be therapeutic for him. Whether or not he was willing to open up would also reveal if he really trusted her.
So there was that. And her lawyer had said that Ethan would be served today, that he might even be served at work. Since they were also suing the TV station, it made sense to serve them both at the same time.
How would they react? She was especially worried about Ethan. She’d seen how vicious he could be when angered. Would he post something else on the internet—another video or some naked pictures of her she didn’t know he possessed? She had no doubt he’d strike back or try to do something to get her to drop the suit.
She remembered the many times she’d showered at his house while getting ready for work. Had he secretly filmed her?
The possibility made her queasy. She felt as though she was just beginning to cope, didn’t want to backslide. She’d expressed her concerns to her lawyer this morning over the phone as soon as she left Aiyana’s, and he’d said they’d be lucky if Ethan did post something else. Then they’d have fresh evidence against him.
But that was easy for her lawyer to say. His primary concern was winning the case. She had to survive the next few months and couldn’t bear the thought of further humiliation. With the holidays approaching, people were finally turning their attention to other things.
Or maybe it only seemed that way because she was keeping her head down and staying out of sight. Either way, by the time she returned to LA, she hoped the scandal would be mostly forgotten—was loath to face a whole new onslaught of embarrassing photos or video.
“I’m going to run down the street and grab a bowl of soup. Would you like me to bring you something?” Susan asked. She’d been in the back baking all morning. With Emery there to serve any customers who came in, and to watch the front, Susan didn’t have to get up quite as early and could bake some of the less popular cookies after the store opened. It was nice to see her looking more rested.
“No, thanks. I’m good.” Emery had to keep moving and was too anxious to eat. She counted the bowl of oatmeal she’d eaten for breakfast as a mistake. It was still sitting heavy in her stomach.
“Okay. You’ve got the store,” she said, and went out the front.
As soon as her boss was gone, Emery checked her phone again. Nothing from Dallas. Maybe he was waiting until she was home and they could talk in person. But she hadn’t heard from Ethan, either. Or the station. Had the process server done his job? Was he there now? Or was he so busy he’d put it off another day?
She hated the thought of it not happening right away almost as much as she feared the consequences once it did. If she had to sue them, she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
The store was so busy over lunch, Emery couldn’t obsess about anything. But when things slowed down an hour later, she sat on a stool behind the counter, nervously tapping her foot while performing a Google search on her name to see if anything new popped up.
Nothing.
Thank God. Except she was once again presented with a link to the original video. As soon as she petitioned one place to pull it down, claiming copyright infringement, another put it up. Trying to get rid of them all was like playing a game of Whac-A-Mole.
The bell sounded, and Emery jumped to her feet.
“It’s just me,” Susan said. “I brought you a bowl of broccoli cheddar soup. I know you told me not to, but it’s after one. I can’t imagine you won’t be hungry before long, and I don’t want you to be miserable.”
“Thank you.” It was a thoughtful gesture and Emery was grateful. If only she wasn’t sleeping with her hostess’s son, who had a tragic background, and suing her former employer and her former boyfriend, she might be able to relax enough to eat.
“Margie Brennan, who owns the drapery business down the street, was at the café,” Susan said. “Normally she doesn’t talk to me. I’m not among the business owners here in Silver Springs