Page 84 of No One But Us

I feel helpless. Everything is going to hell for Elle, a lot of it my fault, and there’s nothing I can do. She tells me about the trip to NYC to introduce Ryan to Tommy and asks me to go dinner with them. I can’t even agree to that. On her behalf, I’d stomach sitting across from Kelly. I’d even manage to be pleasant. But there’s the chance that finding out about the two of us will prompt Kelly to tell Elle everything, and I can’t risk that.

However, I also can’t risk giving Ryan unfettered access to my girlfriend all weekend. Even though he’s about to have unfettered access to her for an entire fucking year.

Chapter 50

ELLE

“This could have been such a good trip under different circumstances,” I say, watching the trees give way to fields dense with end-of-summer corn. They move by slightly faster than they should. At the rate James is driving, I assume we’ll be making the three-hour trip to NYC in about ten minutes.

“You mean circumstances that don’t involve your ex-boyfriend?”

“I just meant it would be good if we had more time.”

Because it’s the third weekend in August, enough of the Pelican staff has gone back to school that neither of us was able to get our Saturday shifts covered, so we’ll be rushing home tomorrow. Between that and the fact that James is refusing to go to dinner, I’m surprised he wanted to come at all.

His hand reaches out to squeeze mine. “I wish we had longer together. Here or at home. I can’t think of anything I’d want more.”

I say nothing in response. He sounds sincere, but it’s almost impossible to believe he means it.

We manage not to argue about Ryan during the remainder of our drive, but James’ tension begins anew as we approach the city. He is silent and brooding by the time we get our bags into the elevator, his worry a weight I feel dragging us both down. I tug him toward me the second we’re in the apartment.

“Stop,” I demand.

“Stop what?” he asks.

“Stop fretting.”

“I’m not fretting. Men don’t ‘fret’.”

“Fine,” I laugh. “Stop doing whatever it is you’re doing that’s just like fretting but sounds more manly.”

“I can think of several things we could do right now to take my mind off it,” he says into my hair.

In spite of everything, the mere suggestion is enough to send a jolt to my abdomen, but I look at my watch and sigh. “I have to meet Corinne.”

He kisses me—a chaste kiss, but one that lingers like he doesn’t want to let me go—and wishes me luck.

Unfortunately, the time for luck has already come and gone. The article Edward’s putting out is done. All I can do now is control the damage.

* * *

I find her at the restaurant, wearing a ball cap and sunglasses. “Hi there, Ocean’s 11,” I tease, sliding into the booth beside her. “Are you in hiding because you’re embarrassed to be in Planet Hollywood?”

She removes the sunglasses. “No, but if I’m seen with you, I’ll probably lose my job.”

“I guess that’s why we’re meeting somewhere no New Yorker would be caught dead,” I reply. “Okay, let’s hear it. How bad is the article?”

Her smile fades. “Imagine the worst possible situation. And then double it.” She slides the advance copy along the booth to me.

The article is titled “‘I Made a Mistake.” It seems like a promising start, but it is not. Edward’s “mistake,” apparently, was that he allowed himself to be “seduced.” I am no longer a clueless 19-year-old intern in this tale, but a nympho whose nickname at work was “The Teen Temptress.” Apparently I am some combination of Mata Hari, Helen of Troy, and the Sirens from The Odyssey. No one, it seems, can resist me when I put my mind to it.

And then there are the pictures. In one I’m draped across Ryan’s lap, though his face is blurred out. In another I’m the only female in the middle of a group of frat guys, dressed like the St. Pauli girl, all bosom in the German dress I rented for Halloween. And then there’s one where I’m leaning over and you can see straight down my shirt.

There are several paragraphs addressing the rumors about my mother—rumors even I have never heard before. They don’t just mention the fact that she broke up my dad’s marriage but go so far as to blame her for breaking up a few famous marriages while she was with my dad. But they draw parallels between us so well that I half believe them myself. Which means everyone else will too.

A source “close” to me tells the magazine, “she’s always had a thing for older men” and “what Elle wants, Elle gets.”

I know enough about how the media works to know any idiot could have given them those quotes. But there are things here that couldn’t have come from just anyone. Things only a few people knew. It mentions the flowers Edward sent and even the notes that came with them. It claims I’ve been caught emerging from “more than one” of my male housemates’ bedrooms this summer, concluding that “there’s nothing she likes more than stealing what belongs to someone else.”