Defamed: Book Three (bxb) ✔️

Chapter Seven: Exposed

Cameron Windsor

There was nothing like a good night's sleep to help reset yourself. I wasn't back to normal by any means, but I had to keep my head afloat. Even though it was New Year's Day, I still had another therapy appointment. My therapist was not letting last night slide.

And neither was I.

Now, I was doing what was probably the worst thing to date. I was making, or rather, attempting to make a fucking cake. But it was difficult with an injured hand. And I also had no idea how to bake. Not even a little. My skills were solely based on cooking. I knew how to do that, but baking and cooking were two different things.

And Asher was going to hate me more for this. I needed some way to apologize and wish him a happy birthday. I was embarrassed by my actions. He had no idea why I reacted that way. It wasn't him. It wasn't him at all. It was the guilt. The trauma. And everything in between.

Why did I expect him to hear me out after I dropped a bomb on him? And in the wrong way. I shouldn't have started the conversation that way. Yet, no matter how I did, it wasn't going to be easy. I was afraid to ruin him. Because he would believe me. I was never afraid he wouldn't. I might have tried to convince myself he wouldn't believe me—it gave me an excuse not to tell him.

"Woah, woah!" Megan was on me faster than I could process, taking the knife out of my hand. "You were about to hurt yourself, and from the looks of it—again."

I blinked, looking down at the chocolate I was trying to cut so I could melt it down. "I was trying to make a cake, and I don't know how. I ordered InstaCart for the groceries, and I was following the recipe."

"Chocolate on chocolate." She hummed as she stepped around me. "Asher's favorite. I don't normally work Wednesdays, but I couldn't miss his birthday."

Frowning, I snatched the knife from her. "I know you know why I'm here. You don't need to circle around me." I sighed. "I'm not a suicide risk. It happened almost a month ago now."

"I actually didn't know why you were here." She put her hands on the counter, watching as I absolutely demolished the chocolate. It was like a crime scene. "But I know who you are. Not media-wise, but who you once were. To him."

My hand froze. "And you're still talking to me?"

"Why wouldn't I talk to you?" She chuckled. "Sweetheart, I was there when he completely fell apart. When he wouldn't talk to anyone for weeks. Alora, my sister—"

"Oh, my god, you're that Megan." I dropped the knife. "Alora hates me. She messaged me on Instagram to tell me as much." I chuckled humorlessly. "I deserve it."

"Do you?"

I turned my head. "What do you mean? Of course, I do. I..." I glanced toward the hallway and back at her. "Cheated on him."

That lie sounded bitter.

She analyzed me—closely. It was like she was peering into my soul. That was the thing about women who were mothers. They spotted lies. They were experts at it when they cared about their kids enough to find them. And Megan cared about her kids more than enough.

Megan shook her head. "I knew it." She ripped her apron off the hook and angrily tied it behind her. "Why in the world would you tell him that? If you wanted to end things, you end them. It would have hurt him, but not like this. What were you thinking?"

And now I was being lectured as if I was a child of her own. I couldn't look at her. "Truths can become lies. It's rare, but it happens. Please leave this alone."