He’d said their fake date was all about her. She hadn’t realized what was happening to him, and how a little positive PR—showing him as a decent guy—would go a long way toward repairing his reputation.
“It was mutually beneficial,” Gemma said quickly. “Are the photos okay?”
“The ones before dinner are lovely. You look wonderful, dear. The one of him with wine on his shirt… perhaps a little less lovely, although at first I thought you’d thrown it at him, which would be understandable. Then I saw it came courtesy of a former lady friend.”
Gemma sighed. “Bad timing.”
“Something tells me when you’re with Mason Moretti, that happens more often than one might expect.”
“Oh, I suspect it does.” Gemma turned to her laptop and searched for photos online.
“Then there’s the one where you leapt in to his defense against some drunken college boy.”
Gemma winced. “How bad didthatone look?”
“Not bad at all, Gem. All the photos reflect very well on you or I would be far more concerned about what, yes, I did suspect was more PR stunt than date. I don’t begrudge you that, though I may have had to stop your father from emailing the photos to Alan.”
Gemma winced harder.
Mom continued, “What I’m more concerned about are the ones from today, which look… less like a PR stunt.”
“Ah, you mean the ones of me getting a motorcycle lesson.”
“No, those were very cute. I mean the ones taken up the coast.”
“At the coffee shop?”
“No, I saw those, too, and they were lovely if obviously posed. I mean the others.”
“Others?”
She barely got the word out before she saw the results of hersearch. The first photo filled the screen. It was her with the wind whipping her hair around, her eyes glowing, Mason pulling her close as he grinned for the selfie.
Oh.
“Was that meant to be a PR shot, Gemma?” Her mother’s voice was soft.
“I…” Something suspiciously like tears prickled, but she wiped them away fast. “I didn’t know that’s why he was taking it, but since we wanted publicity…”
She trailed off. She wanted to say it was fine. To say she’d known the whole day had been leading up to those photos. But the only thing that came were those damn tears.
“Be careful, baby,” her mom said, her voice soft.
Gemma breathed. It was all she could do. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Those shots before dinner last night were obviously PR,” Mom said. “That was a very pretty, very confident woman who looks like my Gemma but isn’t quite her. The ones with the motorcycle and at the coffee shop were more you, but still posed. The ones at the beach? Those areallyou.”
Real Gemma. Unguarded Gemma.
“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Gemma said, her voice so quiet she wasn’t sure her mom would hear it. “After Alan, you think I’d learned my lesson.”
“Mason Moretti isn’t Alan,” her mom said firmly. “I can see what Mason is. No one saw the real Alan, not even me. He was cruel and controlling. Mason is just…” Her mother inhaled. “Careless. He’s careless with you and your feelings, and he always has been, and that might not seem as bad, but in some ways, baby, it scares me even more.”
“Because he’s the kind of guy I could fall for, seeing all the rough edges and telling myself they don’t matter.”
“Rough edgesdon’tmatter. We all have them. It’s the ones that can cut that count.”
Gemma’s eyes prickled. “I need to stop making the same mistake. I finally got away from one guy who hurt me, and what do I do? Bounce back to the first guy who hurt me.”
