“Give her a couple days to cool down. By then you’ll have given your public apology to W, so I’m sure that will help.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling disheartened. “Just send me the statement you want me to make—”

“Oh, you won’t be making it,” Claudia says firmly. “We’re writing a statement, I’ll send it for your approval and then we’ll release it to the media. You will not be speaking with them directly. Not after last night.”

Since I hate speaking to the media in the first place, I’m okay with this.

HER

I’ve never been dumped before.

I guess that makes sense seeing as how W was my first real boyfriend. But it still feels terrible. It’s awful and soul-crushing and has the power to turn a normal, solid-head-on-her-shoulders girl into a blubbering mess.

Like a total loser, I cried myself to sleep last night. I was midsob when I finally drifted off. And then the dreams came. Terrible, terrible dreams that involved W throwing bricks at my head while Oakley kept jumping in front of me to deflect them. At one point he started singing and the bricks stopped midair.

A therapist would probably have a field day with that. Me, I’m just exhausted from dodging dream bricks all frickin’ night.

To make matters worse, Claudia has been calling all morning. I finally had to shut off my phone, because I am not in the mood to deal with her or Oakley or any other living human today. All I want to do is curl up on this patio swing and pretend that last night didn’t happen.

The back door hinges squeak, and I jerk in surprise when my sister lowers herself next to me, a plate of the tres leches cake I made last night in her hand.

“Here,” she says.

“It’s ten thirty in the morning. Way too early for cake,” I say weakly. My throat is raw from crying. I rub it, but the pain doesn’t go away, because it’s inside me.

“It’s never too early for cake.” She smiles gently. “I know you’re more of an ice cream moper, but we ran out. I ate it all last week.”

“Seriously?”

Paisley shoves a forkful of cake into her mouth before answering. “Yes. I think I’m in love with Oakley’s cute bodyguard and so I ate the entire carton to cheer myself up. But cake does the trick, too. Try a bite. You’ll see.” She extends the fork to me, but I don’t want it.

“You’re in love with Ty?” I squawk in surprise. I mean, I suspected she had a crush on him, but the L-word? Seriously?

“Okay, well, maybe not love. But I really like him.”

“You’ve only met him once,” I point out.

She shakes her head. “Not true. He’s around Diamond sometimes,” Paisley admits. “But he’d never date me because I work for Jim’s brother and that’s too close for Ty’s comfort. Besides, I’m concentrating on my career, so it wouldn’t matter if he liked me back.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

She shrugs. “It’s just a crush, and I usually forget about it until I run into him.” She takes another bite. “And like I said, something sweet usually fills my cravings.”

“Cake has never made me feel better.” I think of all the sweets that were delivered to the house after Mom and Dad died. Not one of them had filled the ache. The only thing that did was being with W.

“Not true. W is your cake. Was your cake,” she corrects.

“You mean, fatty and bad for me?” I mutter, because we both know she never liked him.

Paisley eats two huge bites before setting the plate on the step. “I love you, Vaughn, you know that, right?”

I make some noise of acknowledgment, but I don’t want to talk to Paisley about this right now. She’s never had a serious boyfriend because she’s always been focused on moving forward. I don’t like moving forward. I want things to stay like they were forever. Mom and Dad around the table. The twins little. W holding my hand.

“The twins’ school barbecue is this Friday,” she says when it becomes clear I’m not going to contribute to the conversation. “You’re still coming, right?”

I respond with a noncommittal grunt.

“Claudia wants you to bring Oakley.”

Now I grit my teeth.

“She won’t stop calling, by the way.” Paisley pauses. “Oakley gave a hell of a sound bite last night.”

That gets my attention. “What did he say?”

“Not the nicest stuff,” she admits. “He spoke to the press about W.”

I look over sharply. “Are you serious?”

She nods. “He called W a waste of space. And, uh, insinuated that W isn’t a real man.”

Oh, God. No wonder Claudia is freaking out. “Let me guess—you totally agree with those observations,” I say sarcastically.

My sister releases a heavy sigh. “Vaughn.”

“What? We both know you hate W.”

“I don’t hate him.”

“Yeah, you do,” I say irritably.

“No, I don’t. Hate is a strong word. I don’t hate people.” She speaks in a firm tone. “But you’re right—I wasn’t fond of him. I didn’t like W because he wasn’t good to you. You were convenient for him.”

“That’s not true,” I protest.

“Yes, it is. When he canceled at the last minute, you didn’t care. When you won those Dodgers tickets at the school raffle and he wanted to go with his friends, you coughed them up without an argument. You wear those shoes around constantly—” She points accusingly at my Vans “—but where are his? I know you drew on his, too.”

I fight the urge to cover one foot with the other. “You’re forgetting all the times he held me after Mom and Dad died. Or all the times he let me hang out at his dorm while he was busy doing his YouTube show. He was there for me.”

“He was there,” she agrees. “W was there, physically, but he wasn’t ever there for you—emotionally. And frankly, you knew that. It’s why you didn’t have sex with him.”

“I wasn’t ready!” I yell at her.

She leans back against the swing, unfazed by my shouting. “And you weren’t ever going to be ready with W.”

“Because I’m too immature?” I shoot back.

“Nope. Because you never loved W like you thought you did.” She reaches out for my hand. “It’s not like I don’t think you’re capable of that kind of love. Just that whatever feelings you had for W weren’t as strong as you thought they were.”

I jerk away. “Because I didn’t gorge myself with cake?”

“Because W’s a selfish jerk and you’re more upset about the fact that you lost an anchor in your life than you are that you lost W.”

I turn away and fold my arms around my waist. I hate her matter-of-fact tone.

But mostly I hate that she’s probably right.

23

HIM

1doodlebug1 @OakleyFord_stanNo1 Do u think she’s cheating on him with her ex?

OakleyFord_stanNo1 @1doodlebug1 she’d be stupid if she was

1doodlebug1 @OakleyFord_stanNo1 inorite?

The benefit is at the Wilshire. It’s a fancy dinner, followed by a silent auction—all proceeds go to medical research—and then a performance by Deadhead Bloom. I hadn’t realized they were the headliner. King produced their last album, which means there’s a chance that he…crap, he is here tonight.

I feel sick when I spot him at a nearby table. I had no idea he was going to be here. I’m about to avert my eyes, but it’s too late. He’s already noticed me.

He tips his head in a nod, and there’s a smile on his lips that doesn’t quiet reach his eyes. Then he turns to talk to his companion, a gorgeous woman in a white cocktail gown.

The people at my table are all industry people, none of whom I know well. Three are members of a hot new boy band. The rest of the table is filled out with a couple of music execs and a brunette in a silky red dress. Her chair inches closer and closer to mine throughout dinner until she’s practically in my lap. I ignore her and talk to the exec to my left, but I can feel her staring at me, and every now and then she tries to cut in.