Page 98 of The Way We Touch
“It’s not a very nice story,” Allie says quietly.
“It’s a fucking smear job. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever read, and it’s all lies and speculation and garbage. Clearly clickbait.”
I reach out my hand, not caring if my fingers tremble. “Show it to me.”
Craig hesitates, holding the iPad to his chest. “I’m only showing you this because you need to know.”
“Does she?” Allie’s voice cracks.
She looks like she might cry, and I don’t wait for his response. I take the device from my friend and look down at the headline stretching over the screen in heavy block letters. Logan Murphy’s Mystery Lady Revealed, and She’s After His Booty!!!
“That’s just silly. Three exclamation points?” I glance up at Craig, and his mouth is pressed into a tight line.
“He’s just getting warmed up.”
A dry ache is in my throat as I quickly scan the article. It spends a lot of time portraying Logan as cultured and rich, dating models and attending black-tie events, and me as a redneck gold digger only in it for his money and fame.
“She’s no barefoot contessa, but she is barefoot—all the time!” I exhale an embarrassed laugh, the muscles between my shoulder blades tightening. “I guess they’re not wrong.”
“They’re assholes.” Craig’s voice is simmering fury.
“They interviewed Natalia?” My stomach sinks as I read her words.
“I can’t imagine what they have in common,” van Norse said. “They’re worlds apart.”
When asked why he might choose someone so far beneath his wealth and status, van Norse speculated, “We broke up in June, and he started dating her in July. Clearly it’s a rebound.”
“A rebound?” I want to argue with the phone.
“Either that or he’s getting back at his father. What better way to send a ‘fuck you’ to the old man than to take up with the poor little sister of his redneck best friend?”
Lainey’s quote cuts the deepest. “All I’ll say is Logan Murphy has a type, and that’s not it.”
They’re basically the exact words I said when I saw his Instagram feed, and I can almost hear them snickering behind my back.
“She was so friendly at the gala.” Now I actually do feel dumb—for thinking they wanted to be my friends. “Is that what they were saying about me?”
“They’re a bunch of jerks.” Allie’s voice is louder.
“Oh, my God, he interviewed Davis?” I can’t keep the horror out of my tone.
“He’s the douchebag who called you a gold digger!” Allie shouts.
“With her brothers moving out and moving on, she’s grabbing at any wealthy man she can find.” My forehead is hot and tight. “She holds weekly dance parties at [restaurant name redacted], complete with a near-striptease all in an effort to entice the affluent and vulnerable…”
My upper arm tingles when I remember the way he grabbed me. “As if Davis Kent has ever been vulnerable.”
“Will you let me beat up his car with his golf clubs now?” Craig is fuming.
The article is littered with candid photos, and I’m at the bottom when I reach the one that turns my blood cold. It’s from my visit to New York, and it’s the night we were on the balcony. My head is in Logan’s lap, and it’s very clear what I’m doing.
I have to stop myself from throwing Craig’s phone across the room.
“Everyone’s going to see that.” I shudder. “The school, my brothers… People who don’t know me will read those quotes and think it’s the truth.”
“We’ll sue.” Craig slaps his hand on the counter. “It's an invasion of privacy. You have rights.”
“Do I?” I look up at him with round eyes. “Logan’s a celebrity.”