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“Yeah,” I said to Phoenix. “Camila and I had fun hitting those stores.”
Those were good times…
I picked up the tomatoes and a fresh green salad, and Phoenix followed me back outside.
The four of us sat around the table on the decking. I’d hung out a lot with Phoenix and Axel while working for them, but this was a first for me to be hanging out with them as a couple. Despite their celebrity status, they were good people and immediately put me at ease.
We talked about the upcoming tour to New Zealand, Australia and the Far East, about Rhys and Zach’s return from the UK next week. As usual before setting off for a tour, they would play a gig at the Roxy in West Hollywood to make sure they were at the top of their game.
A knot formed in my belly as the realization dawned on me…the bubble in which Pierce and I had been living the past several weeks would burst soon, and the temptation which had led to his downfall would be raising its ugly head. How would Pierce cope with the stress of touring without the crutch of booze? And there would be a whole new world of adoring fangirls throwing themselves at him. The knot in my belly grew tighter. Without a doubt he’d then lose interest in ‘helping’ me, and I’d be wise not to let him start. I took in a deep breath. Maybe if I kept silent on the matter, he wouldn’t press me for a response?
I couldn’t have been more wrong. After we’d finished eating, Phoenix said that pregnancy was making her feel tired, so she and Axel went home for an early night.
“Think I’ll go up now,” I said to Pierce when we’d loaded the dishwasher.
“Have you thought about my proposal, Yankee Girl?” He leaned against the kitchen doorjamb.
“Yeah,” I admitted, on the point of telling him that I’d decided against it.
The chime of my cellphone interrupted my speech.
I stared at the caller ID.
The nursing home.
Why the hell are they calling at this time of the night?
My heart skittered, and I pressed the green icon.
“Miss Wilson?”
“Yes.” I scraped shaky fingers down my legs.
“Jenna Carmichael here, your Dad’s nurse.”
A cold empty feeling invaded the pit of my stomach. “Is anything wrong?”
There was an ominous silence. Jenna cleared her throat. “There isn’t an easy way to say this. I’m so sorry.” Her voice was kind. “I went to check on your father a short time ago, and… and I found that he had passed away.”
I felt the blood drain from my upper body.
I never got to say goodbye…
My knees crumpled.
I slipped to the floor, the phone falling from my hand.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Pierce was cradling me in his arms, rocking me against him. “You don’t need to say anything…I can guess what’s gone down.”
He picked up my cell, spoke to Jenna. I couldn’t make out what he was saying I was screaming so loud in my head.Chapter 12PierceI held Yankee Girl with one arm while I spoke to Jenna, Rick’s nurse. “I visited with Hayley yesterday,” I said. “I’ll bring her to you first thing tomorrow.”
Yankee Girl grabbed my hand. “I’d like to see my dad now.”
“Change of plan,” I informed the nurse. “We’ll be with you in about half an hour.”
“Please tell Hayley her father passed peacefully in his sleep.” Jenna’s tone was sympathetic, and I conveyed the information to Yankee Girl after disconnecting the call.
“I wish I’d been with him.” Tears streamed down her heart-shaped face. “It’s killing me that he died alone.”
“I’m so sorry, love.” I carried on rocking her against me. “It sucks.”
“I always knew his illness was terminal, but he seemed stable…”
“Maybe it wasn’t Alzheimer’s that took him?” I looked her in the eye, my gut panging with sympathy for her. “We’ll find out more when we get to the home.”
“I just remembered Joe has the night off,” she murmured. “I can take a cab.”
“No way.” I shook my head. “I’ll drive you there.”
I helped her to her feet and went to fetch my keys while she freshened up. Joe had taken the Audi—it was a perk of the job that he could use it when he had time off—but I kept my Classic Porsche 911 in the basement garage. As soon as Hayley came back downstairs, I grabbed my ball cap and shades, and then we set off.
Yankee Girl wiped fresh tears from her cheeks. “Dad didn’t deserve to pass so young.” Her voice was small and so incredibly sad. “He is, I mean he was, only seventy. He could have lived at least another ten years.”
I held her hand in mine while I drove, only removing it as we rolled to a stop in front of the low-slung building. The hour was late—nearly eleven—and only one person manned the reception.
