Page 127 of Booked on You
I close out of the comments before I throw my phone across the room. My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it in my throat. I slide out of the bed, making sure not to wake Scarlett. On the way to the bathroom, I take a deep breath that doesn’t quite fill my lungs.
Somehow, I feel like this is my fault.
I’m the one who thought we could control the narrative if we put our relationship out there.
My phone buzzes again, and I want to ignore it, but I know I can’t.
Millie
Are you awake yet?
Ezra
Barely.
Millie
Did you look at everything?
Ezra
Yes, and I’m pissed they brought my mom into it.
Millie
Me too. It’s so low. Scarlett needs to know. I’ve contacted your mother’s publicist to take care of this social media storm.
Ezra
Thank you. I appreciate it.
Millie
Love you, honey. Remember, this will pass.
I go through my morning routine, and when I’m finished brushing my teeth, I slowly open the bathroom door. Scarlett is awake, sitting up in bed. Her hair is messy, and she looks sleepy.
“Morning,” she says with a grin that makes my heart pound a little harder.
“Good mornin’, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?” I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed next to her.
“Great, actually.” She studies me. “Everything okay?”
I notice how she can read me so easily. “We can chat after breakfast.”
“No.” She reaches for me and grabs my hand. “My anxiety won’t be able to handle waiting because I have an overactive imagination.”
“I understand. It’s not the end of the world, just inconvenient.” I unlock my phone and hand it to her like it’s a grenade.
She takes it, and her face changes as she reads the article I just finished looking at. Confusion morphs into shock, then hurt, then something that looks like anger.
“I don’t remember taking this photo, Ezra. I’m not trying to use you or your mother’s kindness toward me. That’s absolutely disgusting. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracks, and the sound of it breaks something inside me.
“I know. I personally don’t remember photos I’ve taken with strangers from a decade ago. But this is what these people do. They’ll dig into our pasts and spin things to fit their own narrative. It may never stop, Scarlett. This is my life.”
She pulls me closer into a hug, and I hold her tight.
“I’m at a point in my career where every relationship I have will be like this. The photographers and speculation won’t stop. I thought if I stopped writing it would. But it didn’t.”
