Johnny came over to her, took her in his arms, and held her. She wanted to ask him why, ask what was wrong with her that no one ever stayed, but the question caught in her throat. She clung to him for too long, taking the comfort he offered. He stroked her head, whispered, Shhh, in her ear as if she were a child.

In time, though, she remembered where she was and pulled back, forcing a smile for the camera. “Well, there it is. The end of the documentary. I’m done, Bob.” Sidestepping Johnny, she went back into her room, where she heard Marah singing in the shower. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Her mother wouldn’t break her again. She’d been a fool to even think there could be a different ending than this one.

Then she noticed the empty nightstand beside her. “The bitch stole my jewelry.”

She closed her eyes and sat on the end of the bed. Pulling a cell phone out of her pocket, she hit Kate’s number and listened to the ringing. When her friend answered, Tully didn’t even bother with hello. “There’s something wrong with me, Katie,” she said quietly, her voice trembling.

“She ditched you?”

“Like a thief in the night.”

“Tallulah Rose Hart, you listen to me right now. You are going to hang up the phone and get down to the ferry right now. I’ll take care of you. Got it? And bring my family with you.”

“You don’t have to yell. I’m coming. We all are. But you better have alcohol ready for me when I get there. And I’m not mixing it with that gross juice your kids drink.”

Kate laughed. “It’s the morning, Tully. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Thanks, Kate,” Tully said quietly. “I owe you one.”

When she looked up she saw Fat Bob. He was filming all of this from the doorway, with Johnny standing beside him.

But it wasn’t the red light on the camera or the knowledge of her public humiliation or the all-seeing lens that broke her.

It was Johnny and the sad, knowing way he looked at her that finally made her cry.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN

The documentary aired two weeks later, and even Kate, who was used to Tully’s amazing successes, was caught off guard by the public’s reaction. It caused a media frenzy. For years Tully had been seen on camera as the cool, witty professional, following stories and reporting on them with her journalist’s detachment.

Now the public learned how she’d been disappointed and abandoned. They saw beyond the journalist to the woman within, and they couldn’t stop talking about her. The phrase heard most often was, just like me.