Chapter 52

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SOPHIE

By Wednesday, I know there is no way out of it and that I have to go back to work. I am late, and I am just out the front door when I hear someone calling out to me.

"Sophie."

I pause. That sounds a lot like—

"Sophie!"

Chloe.

I turn around to see Chloe, clad in a tight-fitting stretchy black mini, stilettos, and sunglasses. She is smiling, a first. I wait for her to catch up with me.

"Sophie, do you think we can have coffee? I need to speak to you about something."

I shift my weight. "But I'm already late for work."

"This will only take five minutes. Please, Sophie?"

Chloe seems a little troubled and desperate. "Okay..." I say, texting Willa that I'll be late for work.

Chloe and I make our way to Cafe Grumpy. After we had ordered our coffee, she says, "Thank you, Sophie..."

"It's fine." I pick up my cup and then put it down again without drinking. "Um, how are you?"

She hesitates, adds a packet of sugar to her coffee and then stirs it with a teaspoon. She places it gently on her saucer, then says, "Sophie, I need your help."

"Okay..."

Chloe leans forward on the table. "Sophie, I need to see Anton immediately. Is there any way you could—"

My throat constricts. "Chloe, I don't know—"

"You have to help me, Sophie. I need to speak to him." Her eyebrows knit together. "It's urgent."

"I'm sorry, but I don't see how I can be of much help. I don't even know where he is."

"He didn't tell you where he is?" She seems confused by this.

I shake my head. "Why would he?"

She hesitates. "He tells you things."

"No, he doesn't."

"Of course he does. He likes you." She rolls her eyes, as if she couldn't figure it out either. "And I read Jeremy Lee's blog, you know. You and Anton have photos together in LA and in the Hamptons."

I can feel the blood draining from my face. "We have photos together?"

"Yes—" says Chloe. "You two haven't exactly been hiding it. I mean, that party in Malibu?" She regards me with a knowing smile that I find a little distasteful.

I swallow hard. "Nothing is going on."

"Oh come on. It's okay, you know. Anton's a lot of fun—" And then Chloe stops, her eyes widening. "Sophie?" she whispers. Chloe is staring at me, her mouth falling open. I thought before that Chloe was graceful and elegant, but she's not elegant at all. Her British accent fooled me. "You've slept with him haven't you? Oh my God..." she says slowly, a smile spreading across her face in horrified delight.

I grip the strap of my bag until my knuckles turn white.

"Oh, Sophie..." she says, now contrite, even sympathetic. She is the last person I want pity from. "Why? Anton is—well, let's just say they don't call him The Bad Boy of Tennis for nothing. And you know that he's still got issues with his ex. Oh, Sophie, you don't want to get involved with someone like that—"

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