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“I don’t know how.” My shoulders slump in defeat and I look up at him through wet lashes.

“So let me help,” he says, brushing a curl away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. “I know it’s hard, accepting help. And I don’t mean I’m going to throw money at your problems,” he adds when he sees me trying to protest. “But let me help.”

I nod and wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tight. “I feel like such a shitty girlfriend,” I mutter darkly. “I’ve done nothing but cause you issues. And now the tabloids.”

“I’ll handle the tabloids,” he says.

When I pull back, he’s smiling at me. A boyish, pretty smile.

“What?” I ask, smiling back.

“Nothing…girlfriend,” he says, stealing a kiss. “How about you go get ready for that date that I promised?”

I really just let that word slip, huh?

And he didn’t freak out.

I swallow down my anxiety and let the excitement bubble up to the surface.

Our date.

I kiss him back, pressing my whole body into it. “Okay…boyfriend.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Levi

This time, I’m the one waking Mike up with twelve missed calls.

“Dude, what?” he asks groggily.

“There’s a bit of a situation,” I say, pursing my lips. “A tabloid situation.”

“For fuck’s sake, on my one vacation,” he grumbles, and there’s some shuffling in the background and a feminine voice asking him to come back to bed.

“It’s nothing bad,” I say.

He snorts. “If it wasn’t bad, you wouldn’t be calling me. Let me look,” he says, no doubt reading through the email I sent him.

“Okay, that’s not bad,” he agrees with a relieved sigh. We still need to address your public image. The video from two years ago will keep resurfacing. I expect it will happen again if the tabloid pictures of you and Hazel gain more traction.”

“I’ll address the video,” I say. For the longest time, I’ve avoided it. I didn’t want to make things worse. I didn’t want to explain myself, but…if I want any chance at a relationship with Hazel that doesn’t involve hiding when we’re out in public, I need to get in front of this. Take control of the narrative.

“Are you sure?” Mike hesitantly asks. He’s been suggesting this for years.

“I’ll do it. And I’ll do whatever photoshoot with Athlala you want me to do as well.”

“Wow, you’re pretty whipped if you’re willing to do all this.”

I smile and shake my head. “I’m just done hiding.”

“Good. You deserve to enjoy your life. I’ll handle it, you just worry about that pretty girl of yours,” he adds.

I thank him. “Now, if we’re done, I have a life to enjoy.”

At my request, Hazel and I get ready together for our date, and I wonder if she finds this annoying. Sabrina would have killed me if I even suggested sharing the bathroom counter space before a date. I’m starting to realize that nothing about my marriage was normal.

Hazel is applying mascara and I’m getting handsy, kissing her neck and the freckles on her shoulder. The red spaghetti-strap dress she’s wearing is silky, fitting her like a glove, showing off her curves. She doesn’t have a bra on, but I did see her stick something on her nipples, so they don’t poke at the material.