Break of Day (24 page)

“No,” I said. “I can't destroy his life. I can't let her hurt him like she's hurt me.”

Piper gave me a sorrowful look. “Okay,” she said. “I understand. I don't agree—but I understand.” She sighed deeply. “And I guess you need to do the press conference with Sarah then.”

“Wait, what? No. I won't disrespect you like that.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“I made a promise to you.
That
matters.”

She gave me a loving look that pretty much broke my heart. “What matters is I know you,” she said. “I know you love me. I know we did this thing together—you and I. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks? I don't need credit—I need those kids to experience something amazing. And if this is the price we pay to make that happen? To keep them and your father safe? Well, it's pretty damn small in the larger scheme of things.”

I nodded slowly, sinking back down onto the sand. Piper dropped down beside me, putting an arm around my back, stroking it softly. I stared out into the sea for a moment, letting out a long sigh.

“I guess you're right,” I said dully.

But it didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all.

A
re you guys ready? We're on in five minutes.”

I watched from the sidelines as the producer barked orders to the various people backstage of the press conference while Asher and Toby worked to try to line up the half dozen excited kids we'd shuttled over from the Holloway House to stand behind them as they did the dog and pony show. As could be expected they were all jumping out of their skins at the chance to be on TV. Not to mention being part of the surf school in the first place.

I stole a peek out from behind the curtain to where all the reporters were waiting. We had a full house, which was kind of crazy if you thought about it—seeing as this wasn't exactly a huge news story. But when the man rumored to be running for mayor of San Diego was sending out the press releases, people showed up. There were reporters from all the major news stations and some of the local cable stations, too. Print journalists and bloggers and magazine editors, all ready to write about what was being billed as the philanthropic event of the year.

I caught Beth's eye at the back of the room where she
stood with her new husband, Mac, who was getting his camera in position, and I waved. I hadn't seen much of her over the past few weeks now that we weren't roommates anymore. Not to mention how busy I'd been. I made a mental note to schedule some John Hughes time before she popped out that kid of hers.

“Miss!”

I felt a tug on my arm and turned to find Jayden had come up behind me. He was practically bouncing up and down in excitement. “Are you ready?” he demanded. “They said five minutes!”

I gave him a rueful smile. “I'm not going to be on TV,” I told him. “I'm just here to watch.”

He frowned. “But you helped!” he protested. “Mr. Asher said if it weren't for your help there would be no surf school!”

“That was sweet of him to say. But I'm happy to stay on the sidelines, don't you worry.”

Jayden didn't look pleased at this, but thankfully didn't continue to argue his point. Because how could I explain to a ten-year-old why I wasn't front and center at this press conference—where I totally deserved to be? Even Asher hadn't understood—he wanted me to at least make a brief appearance to answer questions about the Holloway House. But in the end, I'd refused. The last thing I needed was to piss off his mother and Sarah all over again. It was better to lie low, let someone else have the glory, until we could achieve our own alternative funding. This wasn't about me—this was about those kids standing over there. Those kids for whom hopefully this school would make a difference. After all, if one single kid was able to parlay this experience into a better life? Well, I'd trade all the fame and glory in the world for that.

My eyes roved the backstage, falling on Sarah, who was standing over by her father, checking her hair and makeup in her compact. My stomach soured a little as I looked her over. She was even more beautiful than I had imagined her to be—and I had imagined quite a bit. So delicate, too. So
thin she was almost frail. With huge doll-like blue eyes and perfect blond hair. I felt like a bull in a china shop even standing in the same room as her.

But Asher doesn't love her
, I reminded myself.
He loves you. He chose you.

I turned to Asher, watching him position each kid in line, handing the ones in the back row boards to hold during the press conference. He dropped down in front of them, on their own level, saying something I couldn't quite hear. Then he raised his hand and they all let out a loud cheer. I smiled. He was so good with them—just as he'd been with Jayden on the beach. A total natural. And I could tell he was having just as much fun as they were.

Maybe someday he'd be able to do something like this full time. Leave his family and News 9 behind to work a job that really meant something to him. Of course that was going to be impossible—at least until he gained the courage to tell his father the truth. Until then, his mother would always have a hold over him. Be able to control his life.

My hands tightened into fists as I thought back to his confession. To the pain I'd seen in his eyes. I knew his mother was controlling—but I'd had no idea what a monster she truly was. Not only to have done something like that to begin with, but then to hold it over her son's head in order to keep him in line. She may have been successful, she may have climbed the ladder further than I ever dreamed of going. But underneath her glamorous shell, she was no better than my own mother. Living a life carved from lies.

“One minute!” the show producer, Nancy, barked. She turned to Asher. “Are you ready?”

Asher straightened up and shot her a grin. “I was born ready!” he declared, and I could see the swagger in his stance, the cocky smile, the flashing emerald eyes. This was the Asher everyone expected to show up today, the one who could put on a show. And while once I couldn't stand this sort of arrogance—this bravado—now it only served to make me smile. Because I knew what was underneath it. The true Asher he only revealed to people he trusted and loved.

On cue, Sarah took her position next to him, wobbling a little on too-high stilettos. I had to admit, the two of them looked good together, standing side by side. A golden couple with golden hair and golden futures. They looked as if they belonged together. It was hard to believe, watching them now, that for some reason Asher had chosen someone like me instead.

Nancy pointed to her assistant who worked to pull open the curtains, revealing the stage to the press. As cameras flashed, Sarah's father stepped up to the podium to begin to address the room. The crowd erupted into excited murmurs, but he waved his hand to silence them.

“Thank you for coming!” he boomed into the microphone. “You are too kind! I know you have a lot of news to cover—and it's immensely gratifying to see you take time out to report on my little . . . charitable venture instead.”

I scowled from the sidelines.
His
venture. As if he had anything to do with it, except writing a check. Asher and I had put in all the sweat equity, all the blood and tears. All so this buffoon could take the credit.

It doesn't matter
, I scolded myself.
It's all about the kids.

I watched as he turned to Asher and Sarah. “But enough about me,” he said. “Let's introduce the real stars of the party. My beautiful daughter, Sarah . . . And a man who needs no introduction—News 9 meteorologist, Asher Anderson!”

The crowd clapped politely and Asher and Sarah took center stage.

“Thank you for coming,” Asher began.

“Tell us about the surf school!” a reporter from the audience interjected. “Whose idea was it?”

Asher gave a dutiful smile. “As you know, the Anderson family has a long tradition of giving back to the community,” he said, as we'd rehearsed. “Now it's my turn to take on the family mantle. And what better way to do that than to combine it with something I love. Surfing!” He grinned. “Anything for an excuse to hit the waves, after all!”

The crowd laughed appreciatively. “What do you hope
to accomplish by teaching at-risk kids to surf?” asked another reporter.

Asher took a look back at the kids behind him. Then he turned to the reporter. “Surfing can do so much for a kid,” he said. “It can benefit their physical and mental health. It can empower them, give them something to work toward, look forward to. Help them make healthier choices in all aspects of their lives.”

He paused and Sarah stepped in. “Studies show participating in a sport like surfing can lead to advanced educational outcomes, increased social skills, and all sorts of other benefits.” She smiled, flashing her perfect white teeth. “Something we in the Martin family have always advocated for our community.”

“Sarah, are you a fan of surfing, too?” called out a newspaper reporter in the back.

Sarah giggled. “No,” she said, shaking her head. Her perfectly flatironed hair bounced prettily from the gesture. “I'm just a fan of Asher here.”

The room erupted in conversation. I could see Asher shoot a look at Sarah, and her cheeks colored in response. She clearly hadn't meant it to come out like that, I realized. But behind her, her father was grinning like a loon. Of course.

“Inquiring minds want to know!” cried a voice from the side. “Are you two a couple?”

Everyone laughed. Except Asher. His face darkened. Shit.

Don't ruin this
, I begged him silently.
Just go with it. For the kids' sake. It doesn't matter what they think.

“Now, now,” Sarah scolded the reporter. “We should try to keep the questions on topic, don't you think?” She gave him a saucy grin. “Let's just say Asher and I are
very
good friends.” She wrapped a possessive arm around him and gave him a little hug. I watched as he stiffened like a board.

Uh-oh.

Time seemed to slow down as he jerked from her grasp. He turned, looking offstage, meeting my eyes with his own. I shook my head, trying to tell him, without words, that he
shouldn't argue. That I knew his heart. That the rest didn't matter.

But Asher, it seemed, did not feel the same.

“No,” he said, turning back to the crowd, which was watching with bated breath. “No. I'm sorry. I won't do this. I can't do this.”

The room erupted into conversation, reporters buzzing with excitement. They'd come to cover a simple, boring charity event, and now it was turning into so much more.

“Asher,” Sarah tried, looking very concerned. She tugged on his arm, but he pulled it away.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly, clearly meaning only to talk to her. But the microphone picked up his voice, echoing it across the room. “I have to set the record straight.”

I watched, helpless to stop him as he turned back to the press, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. “Sarah and I are not a couple,” he said flatly. “We never were. And we never will be. Because I have a girlfriend. A girlfriend who I love very much.” He turned to look backstage again, beckoning with his hand. “Piper? Can you come out here for a second?”

“Asher, what are you doing?” I could hear Sarah hiss beside him. But he ignored her, beckoning for me again. Shit.

I had no choice. I took a hesitant step forward.

“There she is!” Asher announced excitedly, crossing the room and sweeping me into his arms. “My beautiful girlfriend. Piper Strong, ladies and gentlemen!”

The cameras started flashing madly. The room erupted in questions.

Asher dragged me back to the podium, then held up his hand to silence them. “Piper, ladies and gentlemen of the press, is the true brains behind this surf school. She was the one who introduced me to these kids. And she helped me build the school from the ground up. Without her,
none
of us would be standing here today.”

And with that, he grabbed my hand, made a silly little bow, then yanked me offstage with him, leaving Sarah standing there by herself, her face tomato-red.

“So, uh, thank you for coming?” she stammered, trying to be heard over all the chaos rampaging through the room. “All the information for the school is on our website.” And with that, she practically ran offstage.

I turned to Asher. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my God,” he cried. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

“Asher, that was not good,” I protested. “That was so not good. You just embarrassed Sarah—and her father—in front of the entire San Diego press.”

“No. I told the truth. She embarrassed herself by pretending we were a couple.”

“You think her father's going to see that? You think he's going to keep funding the surf school now?”

Asher set his chin. “Yes,” he said. “Don't you see? He has to. Otherwise he'll look like a total asshole—only participating in the charity to get his daughter laid rather than help those poor kids on stage. Now he'll have to keep paying until people lose interest. And by that point we will have applied for all the grants we need to keep going without his help.”

“So you tricked him.”

He shrugged. “They tricked me first.”

“And what about me? Did you ever stop to think about me?”

“Of course I thought about you. Piper, that's the whole reason I did what I did. It wasn't right—them disrespecting you like that.”

“No, Asher.
You
are the one who disrespected me. I told you, point-blank, that you should do this with Sarah. That you should not make a scene. But you didn't respect that. You didn't listen to me. You did it anyway 'cause you never see the big picture.”

“Piper . . .” His face twisted in anguish.

“You told me if we got together it wouldn't affect my job. Now what's going to happen to me?”

“Nothing. She can't do anything. And if she tried, you could sue.”

“I don't want to sue. I just want to do my job. The job I've been trying to prove to people that I deserve. But now?
Now it looks like I'm only here because I'm hooking up with you. Do you think the other stations will hire me now? Do you think they'll even look at my resume?”

His face fell. “Piper, I never meant—”

“Of course not. You never
mean
to do anything. But you do it all the same,” I snarled. “I should have never taken this stupid job. I should have just stayed in production assistant land until I was promoted for my skills, not my body.”

“Come on,” he begged, his expression pleading. “Don't go back to that. You excel at your job. You deserve to have it. Who cares how you got it in the first place?”

“I care,” I whispered, rising to my feet, my whole body shaking. “
I
care,” I said louder. “And that's something—Asher Anderson—you will never understand.”