Take Two (The Jilted Bride #1)(33)

I didn’t get any sleep the night before. Instead, I wasted five hours arguing with Selena over the phone, failing to break away from her like I’d planned. She wasn’t joking about staging domestic abuse.

How did it get to this point?

I stepped into the shower and stood under freezing cold water. It usually made me feel better, but not today.

Today I was going to be on “The View,” thanks to Shelby and a last minute drop out by Ashton Kutcher. Shelby thought it would be a great time to promote my upcoming book, a book I had no hand in writing.

I read twenty pages of the final draft last week and wanted to rip my eyes out. The ghostwriter couldn’t write to save her life. Since I didn’t have the time to write it myself and the publisher was expecting a product, I would have to live with her pitiful version of my life story.

“Mr. Sterling?” Joan handed me a towel. “The stylist is here.”

“I’ll be right out. Hey Joan?”

“Yes?”

“After the interview, will we have time to stop by—”

“Miss Carter hasn’t returned to work yet.”

“Could you turn to the side a bit, Mr. Sterling?” the assistant tapped his lip. “Maria! Maria! The lighting is wrong! We need to fix this before she gets here!”

I mentally vanished from the room. Photographer extraordinaire Anne Leibovitz was shooting me for Vogue and I couldn’t have cared less. I was honored to finally meet her, but my week was off to a horrible start and all I wanted to do was sit in my apartment and relax.

I barely made it through Monday’s interview on “The View” without shouting, “We’re not really a couple! Please shut up!” The questions about the baby and the wedding just kept coming. They even managed to put together a short segment about what we should name our kid. One of the names was Matlena.

On Tuesday, I shot the final scene for Wherever You Are, greeting the legion of fans that showed up to watch me run through Central Park half naked. I even stayed behind after we wrapped. I signed autographs and took pictures with as many fans as I could. I went on two “craving runs” that night: one for ketchup and pickles, one for hard liquor.

Wednesday and Thursday seemed to blend together: three magazine interviews, six phone interviews, Skype chats with fans, a script selection session with Shelby, an appearance at Ian Somerhalder’s party, and lunch in Miami with my mom.

When I returned to reality, I felt another assistant adjusting my cuff links and fiddling with my shirt.

“I’m Annie Leibovitz,” a gray haired woman with glasses extended her hand to me.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Matt Sterling.”

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

I lay on my bed and prayed that Joan knew me well enough to reschedule the rest of my afternoon. I’d zombied my way through yet another week and I didn’t have any energy left.

“May I come in?” Joan knocked.

“You know you don’t have to ask.”

She turned on the light in my room and ignored my groans. I heard her go into the bathroom and turn on the Jacuzzi.

She walked over to my bed and sat on the edge. “I’ve canceled the rest of your day.”

“Please don’t ever quit,” I rolled over. “I don’t think I can afford to lose you.”

“You can’t, but I don’t see that happening any time soon. I think you should go relax in the tub. I ordered some broccoli and cheddar soup for your lunch. It should be here soon.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Of course. There are some updates we need to go over.”

“I’m listening.”

“I personally dropped by The New York Appeal today and Miss Carter wasn’t there. Apparently she’s on an extended leave of absence. Would you like to send something non-perishable so it’ll be there when she gets back?”

Where the hell is she?

“Five pounds of Skittles.”

“Will do. You and Selena are on the cover of Us Weekly. There’s a picture of you rubbing her stomach and a picture of you leaving CVS late at night. The cashier told them what you purchased.”

What I would give to be “normal” right now…

“Is that all?”

Joan sighed and avoided my eyes. That was never a good sign.

“Joan? What is it? Tell me.”

“Oprah’s people called Peter. Then he called Shelby and then she called me and now—”

“Joan…”

“They wanted to know if you could push up the wedding since you two technically aren’t paying for it anyway. Selena’s people already called back and confirmed, so they assume that—”

“Assume that what?”

“That they can film it in two months.”

“Can you make sure the annulment papers and a notary are at the ceremony?”

“Sure, but—”

“But what?”

“You signed a contract saying that you would stay legally married long enough for them to air the special at least four times.”

“How long is that?”

“Seventy two days.”

“Get the hell out of here. They can’t control that. Have my lawyers here tomorrow.”