Crazy for Love (22 page)

A
T SEVEN
M
ONDAY MORNING,
the sunlight was still weak and pretty, and not quite warm enough to suffocate. Jenn sat in her car at the courthouse, waiting for the day to start and swallow her up. She hadn't been able to sleep, so she'd gotten up early and driven to Chloe's place, determined to tell her the truth. No one had opened the door. The one photographer on the scene had snapped a few pictures of her, then told her that Chloe wasn't there and Max was gone. Maybe they were holed up in a secret hotel room somewhere, or that was what Jenn kept telling herself, anyway.

Though the phone felt too heavy to lift in Jenn's weary hand, she raised it to her ear and pressed Play for the tenth time that night.

“Jenn? Hi, it's Elliott. Sullivan. I've been thinking about what you said the other night. And I've seen the news… If you… It's none of my business, of course, but I just wanted to tell you that I don't care what you've done. Maybe you haven't done anything at all. And it's not that I don't care. I'm saying that
if you need someone to talk to, call me. Maybe I'm not the most comforting guy in the world, but…Anyway. I hope you're doing okay. Bye.”

The obvious worry in his voice brought tears to her eyes, just as it had the first time she'd heard it six hours earlier.

She'd let this go on too long. She'd wanted to shield Chloe, not give her awful suspicions. And if even Elliott Sullivan suspected that Thomas had been sleeping around and Jenn had something to do with that… Crap. What a terrible mess.

Of course, now that she was ready to tell the truth, Chloe was nowhere to be found.

Jenn started the car, thinking she should drive out to Chloe's parents' house and see if she was there, but there were already two satellite television trucks parked in a corner of the courthouse lot, and a third was pulling in from the street. If Jenn left now, she might miss Chloe altogether. What if they were on their way early? She couldn't risk it.

So Jenn was waiting, feeling distinctly like a prisoner counting down the minutes to her execution. She had no control. Her only hope lay in the hands of Anna, and a last-minute phone call promising a pardon seemed highly unlikely. Anna was determined to resolve everyone's guilt by exposing the entire sordid affair to the unflinching rays of the sun. Jenn was beginning to hate her.

No, she already hated her.

The sky started its turn from gray to blue, already going bright white at the edges, and Jenn took a deep breath, ignoring the one tear that plopped onto her chest. This was the day she'd lose both of her best friends.

 

C
HLOE SAT AT HER PARENTS
' kitchen table, a mug of coffee cooling in her hand. Her stomach already burned with acid, but she kept sipping anyway, comforted by the normalcy of the act. She was dressed just as she should be, in a somber dove-gray shirt and black skirt, but she couldn't help thinking that she wanted to change. She should wear magenta or electric blue, as a slap in the face to Thomas and the press.
I'm not brought low by this; I'm still standing.

But the magenta blouse had emphasized the redness of her eyes, and the blue had given her pale face a green tinge. The gray did nothing to flatter her, either, but at least it fit her mood.

A new morning talk show blasted its theme music through the kitchen, and Chloe's mom glared at the remote control tucked safely in Chloe's grip.

“You don't need to see this.”

Chloe shrugged. “I've already seen it.”

“So once is enough.”

“I disagree.” The host of the show offered a
thorough recap of the month's worth of Runaway Husband/Chloe the Bridezilla stories. It was thorough but brief—nothing she hadn't heard before. Then he got to the more current news. “New revelations are expected today, as the Commonwealth of Virginia has announced that additional charges will be filed in the case. There are hints that the charges involve a mystery woman, perhaps even the Bridezilla herself, and will address the questions surrounding the financial aspects of this case. Where did Thomas DeLorn get the money to help him escape his fiancée's prison of obsessive love?”

“Nice one,” she said. Now that she'd had some time to think it over, she wished she had kept Thomas chained in a dungeon somewhere. It would've served him right.

“Isn't Jenn going to come with us?” her mom asked, interrupting the morning show's replay of Chloe's video tirade.

“No. But I have a feeling we'll see her there.” Her calm today wasn't the same calm she'd felt over Thomas's betrayal. This was more like the pregnant stillness of the sky before a really awful storm swept through. Whether she'd loved Thomas or not, she had no doubt that she loved Jenn Castellan a lot more.

A pixilated rectangle on the television covered the video of Chloe's middle finger without obscuring
any sign of what she'd meant, and Chloe winced at the sight of it. A moment's pleasure for a lifetime of pain. Well, at least the rest of the world felt good about it. She'd confirmed every suspicion they'd had about her. It was so obvious now that she
had
thrown that bouquet in the florist's face. Look at the viciousness of her throwing arm! And she was clearly petty enough to keep her cousin out of the wedding for being too short. Look at that bitchy smirk!

“Oh, sweetie.” Her mom sighed, just as she'd done the other three times they'd watched it.

“Yeah, I know, Mom.” Catching a glimpse of the sorrow on her mother's face, Chloe relented and aimed the remote at the television, but her finger hadn't yet hit the power button when Max appeared on the screen. At first, it was just a picture of him in shades and a T-shirt against a backdrop of sand. A picture someone had snapped on the island, probably. She turned up the volume a little, hating the way her stomach dropped as the voice-over woman described his relationship with Genevieve Bianca. After only twenty-four hours of exposure, Chloe already hated the one picture of Genevieve and Max that everyone seemed to have purchased the rights to. Genevieve looked gorgeous and delicate as she always did, her smile slightly sad, her eyes big and guileless. And Max… Max was shockingly gorgeous in a black tux,
his sun-streaked hair adding an endearing touch of messiness to his look.

She hated that skinny bitch, especially because there didn't seem to be anything bitchy about her.

“And this morning we've got an exclusive comment from Max Sullivan. His first words about his relationship with Chloe Turner!”

The coffee mug dropped to the table with a sickening thud.

“A source is reporting that Chloe Turner didn't confess her true identity to you until your affair became public. Is that true?”

“She didn't confess anything.”

“So she never told you who she was? Interesting. Now, Genevieve Bianca has said publicly that she feels your friendship helped her overcome some big issues in her personal life. Do you think you can help Chloe Turner?”

“That's ridiculous. I couldn't help her if I wanted to. And I don't want to.”

Her mother gasped. “How could he say that about you?”

Chloe had been trying not to wrinkle her clothes, but she gave up the fight and slumped against her chair as her lungs deflated.
Oh, God.

“Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry.”

Her mom's hand touched her shoulder, and Chloe shook her head. “It's okay.” She wanted it to be okay,
but how could it be? Max had left in anger, and someone had obviously caught him before he'd had time to cool down. She knew he'd never have said anything like that under normal circumstances. But she'd thrown his past in his face.

Yes, he'd spoken in anger, but even in the midst of their argument, he must have known that bad-mouthing her to the press would be the one blow she couldn't forgive.

If she was a martyr, this would be the perfect opportunity to wallow in self-pity.

Chloe swallowed back her tears and turned off the TV. She didn't have time to stop and let her heart break. Today's emotional schedule was already full. Still, the pain managed to shoulder its way past her defenses. All Chloe could do was keep moving.

She was rinsing out her coffee cup when her dad walked into the kitchen. His thick brown eyebrows met in a frown over his eyes. “Are you still determined to do this?”

“I'm going to the courthouse, yes, but I don't want to drag you with me. Bad enough that they followed me here.” She jerked her head in the direction of the street, where the press hovered like a pack of hungry dogs. There'd been no avoiding them. After her food-throwing temper tantrum, they weren't going to give up their hunt just because of a little darkness.

Her dad grunted his disgust. “I don't think
you need to do this, but I'm not going to let you face those vultures alone. And I'd like to look Mr. Thomas DeLorn in the eye and see what he has to say for himself.”

“I'm sure his lawyers have advised him not to say anything at all.”

“Beth,” he said to her mom, “you should stay home. It's going to be a real mess outside the courthouse.”

Her mom crossed her arms. “Don't talk to me like I'm some helpless old biddy. I'm sixty years old, and everyone knows that sixty is the new fifty. I think you should be the one to stay home. Your blood pressure is going to go through the roof.”

“Dad, did you take your pills?”

Even as he muttered about being coddled like a baby, he went to the cabinet for his blood pressure medicine and took one before grabbing his car keys. “Fine. Everyone in the car.”

Two blocks from the courthouse, the street was packed with traffic. The hearing was set to start in thirty minutes, so her dad grabbed a spot at a meter and parked there. By the time they got to the parking lot of the courthouse itself, reporters were starting to crowd around them. They shouted questions about Thomas, and his alleged lover, and Chloe's frightening temper. They flung zingers about Max and even
managed to work Genevieve Bianca into the mix, because—why not? Genevieve sold papers.

Chloe put her head down and soldiered on, both arms looped around her parents' elbows. For once, she was happy for the panic that threw her heart into overdrive. She could hardly hear their rude questions past the thumping in her ears.

Her mom kept her head down, too, and Chloe was glad about that, but her dad's face was turning red. She tugged on his arm and winked when he looked at her. He didn't smile, but he took a deep breath.

Over the awful din, she thought she heard a familiar voice call her name. It sounded like Jenn, but Chloe could see nothing past the flashing cameras and boom microphones.

In reality, she knew there were no more than twenty people surrounding her, but it felt like an army of madmen, and she couldn't imagine living like this for the rest of her life. For a brief moment, a spark of sympathy blazed for Genevieve Bianca and people like her, but that was the extent of her kindness toward the woman. Petty or not, Chloe was painfully jealous that she'd had Max for months. Chloe had only gotten a few days.

A moment later, she was relieved that Max had only been connected to her for a few days, because she registered the surreal fact that there were people in the crowd wearing T-shirts that read Team Chloe
and Team Thomas. If there had been Team Genevieve T-shirts, Chloe's self-esteem couldn't have borne it.

A lifetime later, they were finally through the metal detectors and cleared to go into the courtroom. Chloe looked back and caught sight of Jenn's wavy blond hair. It
had
been her, shouting Chloe's name over the crowd. The big sound guy blocking Jenn's face shifted for a moment, and Chloe met her friend's gaze. “I'm sorry,” Jenn mouthed.

As if she'd just jumped off a high dive, Chloe's stomach floated weightless for a moment before settling into her gut with a sickening thud. It seemed inevitable now, what she would hear in the courtroom, and Chloe almost decided to flee. “Never mind,” hovered on her lips, and she only managed to hold it in when she looked back at the gauntlet behind them.

There was no turning back now. The truth was aimed straight for her anyway. May as well pretend to be brave in the face of it.

Ironically, the courtroom was a peaceful oasis. Every head in the room turned toward them when they entered, but the talk was kept to low whispers. Even Thomas turned around, and for the first time since his death and resurrection, Chloe found herself looking at the man she'd planned to marry.

It wasn't hard to meet his gaze. The hard part
was acknowledging that nervous tension was her only response to the sight of Thomas. Well, tension and a bit of bitter gloating when his eyes dropped to the floor. He actually started to rise, and when his attorney glanced back and saw Chloe, he put a hand on Thomas's shoulder and pushed him back down. Thomas obeyed easily, and he didn't look at her again.

He was too weak for me,
she realized with a certainty she hadn't felt about much in the past month.
I am strong.
She'd never said those words to herself, but they were true. She didn't need Max or even Jenn. Oh, she wanted them both at her side with a desperation that made her chest ache, but she didn't
need
them.

One way or another, she'd get through this.

Space was made for her and her parents in one of the middle rows, and almost immediately after they sat, the bailiff quieted the court and the hearing began.

She'd expected something dramatic, but the lawyers got into the mechanics of the case in calm, deliberate voices. While they droned on, Chloe stared at the back of Thomas's head. She knew that hairline. The closely cropped dark blond hair. The shaved nape that got prickly when he needed a trim. He'd loved it when Chloe would pet him there, or he'd pretended to, anyway. Her memories were no
longer trustworthy. They were more like Russian dolls, the real meanings nested beneath layers of interior shells.