Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Acknowledgments
- P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
- About the Author
- About the Book
- Also by Alison Gaylin
- About the Publisher
Robin closed her eyes, trying to wrap her thoughts around it, all kinds of memories moving through her head of the old Eric, the man she’d fallen in love with, the crusading young journalist who wanted to help good people, not destroy them. This is going to make me sound like a jackass, but I want to write stories that save lives.
She opened her eyes. “We all start out so pure, don’t we?”
“I want to find my way back.”
“So do I.”
He kissed her, softly. “You’re already there, Robin,” he said. “You’ve always been there.”
“No. I haven’t.”
“I’ve never cheated on you.”
“All right.”
“I’ve done some shitty things for Shawn, but that Charlie Maxwell thing was by far the worst.”
“It’s bad, Eric.”
“I told you I’d pissed people off,” he said. “Do you still love me?”
“We need to pack up,” she said. “My mom needs to get to her house.” She was well aware that she hadn’t answered the question.
RENEE’S HOME NO longer looked like a murder house. She’d had a cleaning service come in during the day, and so when they arrived there at 10:00 P.M., the place was spotless, everything smelling of pine, the missing Indian rug the only clue that anything bad had ever happened there. There were no reporters outside either. And so, after her mother had gone to bed and she and Eric had set themselves up in the comfortable guest room that had once been her bedroom, it was easy for her to imagine her dad alive, one room over, snoring beside her mom, a book open in front of him.
Robin threw a T-shirt on and got into the double bed next to Eric, who was wearing his boxer briefs, nothing else. “Do you still love me?” he whispered in the dark.
“Yes.”
“I love you too.”
She inhaled the scent of his cologne, her favorite, worn only for her. “Eric?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you going to do when the news comes out?”
“It won’t.”
“Huh?”
“If that story comes out, it’s not just me that goes down. It’s Shawn. It’s the show. And Ginny doesn’t want to lose her job any more than I do.”
Eric snuggled into Robin’s side, his arm against her belly. She closed her eyes and tried to find sleep, because she didn’t want to be awake with Eric. Not anymore. “What about the waitress?” she said finally. “She lost her job.” But Eric didn’t answer. He was already asleep.