Chapter 15

Max rose before six in the morning, having slept uneasily. He couldn't shake the feeling the sword of doom was about strike him. Those damn pictures. If only he'd been able to push the woman away, but she'd been worse than a vulture. As soon as the clock hit a decent time, he planned to call Tony Warren and ask him to help. You just never knew when a picture would show up on someone's phone and make its way out into cyberspace. Unfortunately, he didn't think the Warrens would be taking any calls before noon today.

He downed two cups of coffee while he watched the clock. Valentine's Day. He had big plans for Stacy, along with a special event tonight, before the magazine party. Maybe that was why he was so nervous. By eight o'clock, he was ready to jump out of his skin. Showered and dressed, he hurried down to the bakery in the nearby strip center and bought the cinnamon rolls she told him she had a real obsession for. At eight forty-five, he rang her bell, excitement at the upcoming day racing through his veins.

Instead of opening the door, Stacy merely hollered through it.

"Go away, Max. Go home."

What? "Stacy? What's wrong? I have cinnamon rolls."

"I don't want your cinnamon rolls. I don't want anything from you. I don't even want you. So, go away."

Shit. "I'm not leaving until you open up and tell me what's wrong." He waited a minute, but nothing happened. "The neighbors are probably going to call the cops if I stand out here yelling much longer. Open the damn door."

He was considering breaking it down when he heard the rattle of the chain and the snick of the deadbolt, then there she was. His heart dropped at the sight of her. She had the rattiest robe he'd ever seen on over an equally ratty sleep shirt. Her hair clumped around a messy ponytail and her eyes were swollen and red.

"I don't want those." She pointed at the box. "I don't want anything from you. I knew it was too good to be true, and I was right. At least the other assholes didn't dump me so publicly."

"Stacy, I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about. I didn't dump you."

"Yeah? Well, I don't share, either. I told you that."

"Will you make sense here? What is going on?"

She held up a finger. "Wait a minute."

She closed the door, leaving Max still standing on the little porch. In seconds it was opened again. Stacy shoved her phone in his face.

"Look. On the Friends of the Warriors Facebook page this morning. Janelle couldn't wait to call me and tell me."

Max's heart sank. Those fucking photos with that fucking Alana. He should have grabbed the fucking phone last night and smashed it.

"Stacy, the picture is not what it looks like. I didn't—"

"You can't imagine how humiliated I am. Do you have any idea how many millions of people have probably seen you and whoever she is already?"

"Please let me explain. I hardly even know her. She—"

"Good-bye, Max. Don't come over here again. And don't call me or text me or try to communicate with me in any way. We're done."

Then another hard slam that he felt through every bone in his body.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Somehow he had to make it all right. He wasn't going to lose the love of his life on Valentine's Day.

*****

Stacy tried to remember if she'd ever felt more miserable in her life, but she didn't think so. She didn't think it was possible for anyone to cry as much as she had or to feel as completely devastated. It wouldn't be so bad if she hadn't trusted Max so completely. After all, she'd known him for three years. They'd been best friends. She'd shared her deepest secrets with him. Exposed herself down to her rawest nerves.

And he'd taken all that knowledge and played her. Betrayed her. None of the other assholes had really mattered. And mostly she'd been able to hide her state of being dumped because, except for Kurt, she never shared with anyone. Too bad for her Max had insisted on making their activities as public as possible.

She hated thinking he'd had this in mind all along.

Maybe not. Maybe he'd really thought they could be special together. A real relationship. Maybe. Hah! Then another hot female came on to him, and she was left in the dust.

Her landline had been ringing off the hook so often she finally unplugged it. She even turned off her cell. There was no way she could manage to talk to anyone. It was bad enough she had to figure out how to pull herself together to go to the party tonight.

The damn party. If only she could figure out a way to avoid it. Maybe she could call and say she'd come down with a terminal illness of some kind. Showing up at work Monday would be bad enough. But if she wanted a job come next week, she'd better pull herself together.

Only how can I celebrate Valentine's Day when I'm nobody's Valentine? Max, how could you do this to me?

At last she dragged herself out of her misery and took a shower, washed her hair, and reluctantly made up her face. She glared at the sexy red dress hanging in the closet, tempted for a moment to cut it up with scissors. Then she thought, what the hell? Maybe she should keep the new Stacy front and center. If Max had dumped her, there were plenty of other fish in the sea. And tonight, she might find one if she chose wisely enough.