“I just saw you dart off looking pale and sick.”

“And you decided to be nosy?”

“I decided to come check on you. Something happen with Brady? I saw you scrolling through your phone.”

“What, are you stalking me?” How was she always so transparent to Clay?

“I just know the signs. So what happened?”

“Like I’m going to give you more ammo to hate Brady.” She was defending him even now, when he had majorly fucked up.

“Do you have ammo? I thought he was perfect.”

“Oh. Ha-ha. You’re hilarious. I don’t need any of your shit tonight,” she said, turning away from him.

“Whoa. He must have really fucked up if you’re being a bitch to me.”

Liz spun around. “Do you walk around calling all women bitches? Or am I just lucky tonight?” She glared at him and crossed her arms. “Mind finding someone else to harass for a change? I don’t know why I defend you to him anyway.”

“I don’t need defending. I’m fine with everything exactly how it is. But you’re just picking a fight with me because you’re mad at him.”

She looked away from his probing gaze. He was right. She was mad at Brady. And Clay was just trying to make sure she was okay.

She looked back up at him and he gave her a small nod, as if he had read her mind. She sighed heavily. “What do you know about Chelsea?” Liz asked.

“Ah,” Clay said, his dimples showing.

“What does that mean?”

“You’d think that when he has someone like you and went through all the trouble to keep you . . . that he would let the past rest.”

A knot formed in the pit of her stomach at Clay’s words. This wasn’t encouraging. “Chris said they were together in college,” she offered.

“I’m sure he meant that they’ve been fucking since college,” Clay said casually, as if it didn’t make Liz feel as if she had been slapped across the face.

“No. I just . . . can’t believe he would do this,” she whispered.

His eyes roamed her face and he shook his head. “God, you’re so innocent. Do you think that you were the first he ever hid? You were the one he got caught with. He’s like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. He would have eaten the cookies if he hadn’t got caught, but he never would have fessed up to it.”

“You’re such an ass,” she said hoarsely.

“I’m a realist, and I know my brother.”

“Just . . . leave me alone. I thought for a second you might be here for some semblance of comfort. Instead you just brought salt to rub in the wounds,” she said. Her hands were fisted at her sides. “Go back to your arranged marriage and leave my life out of your scheming.”

“Fine. Just remember this feeling when he tries to change your mind,” Clay said with a shrug before turning to leave.

Liz really wished that she had something that she could throw at that moment. Clay’s departure only pissed her off more, and she wouldn’t have minded aiming something heavy at the back of his head.

She sagged with the weight of her anger. She couldn’t just stand here. Liz stormed around the corner to the bathroom that she and Brady had had a confrontation in two years ago. She had thought that she liked getting to redo so much of their relationship, but she didn’t want to ever relive this feeling.

Liz walked into the bathroom and bolted the door. She leaned forward heavily on the sink and blew out all the air in her lungs. Her face was pale, but her eyes didn’t hold the sick feeling that went through the rest of her body. Her eyes looked livid. And she realized that she wasn’t actually sad or disappointed or sick . . . she was pissed.

How could he do this to her? She had given up everything for him. She had given up the New York Times, the UNC paper, her credibility, her privacy. God, she had moved in with him and spent her whole summer on the campaign with him. She didn’t even know when he would find time for this, but then again, he had found time for her.

She wanted to think that she was jumping to conclusions, but Chris’s and Clay’s remarks made her think that she wasn’t. She was clearly losing her touch as a reporter if she couldn’t even put together the most in-your-face details like this.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. “Occupied,” she called back even though she was pretty sure she knew who was on the other side.

“Liz, open the door,” Brady said brusquely.

Liz took a deep breath and then unlocked the door. Brady was inside the bathroom in a split second with the door closed, holding up his cell phone. “This is not what it looks like,” he said immediately.

“Really? It looks like Chelsea wants you to meet her in a back room, take her to Hilton Head, and fuck her. As far as I’ve gathered . . . those are all things you’ve done before,” she said coldly.

He cringed. Brady Maxwell actually cringed. “They are, but that’s long in the past.”

“Long in the past like two years ago, when she was your date that time you flew me to Hilton Head?”

“She was my date, but if you remember correctly, I told you that she wasn’t much of a date and that nothing was going on between us. Because nothing is going on between us, Liz. Absolutely nothing,” he told her.

She wanted to believe him. She really did. But she wasn’t sure she could trust his words at this moment. “Then how do you explain those messages? That doesn’t read like absolutely nothing.”

“Those texts were completely out of line. Chelsea and I had a sort of relationship for a while. It wasn’t serious.”

“It wasn’t public? It was on your terms? You had her when you wanted her?” Liz asked harshly.

“No. Please listen to me,” he said, his voice softening. “She is nothing like you. She can’t even compare to you.”

“Then why is she sending you messages asking you to fuck her?” she yelled in his face.

Brady remained resolute. “I don’t know. Probably because she’s drunk. She messaged me at the start of the summer insinuating that she wanted to start something up again, and I told her no, that you and I were serious.”

“What about all the text messages? What about turning your phone off when she messaged you at Justin’s? What about you acting exactly the way you did when you and I were hiding something?” she demanded, crossing her arms.