“Why?” I ask, holding back my anger.
“Believe it or not, I was taking photos before I ever knew you existed. I love photography, and it paid well as a side gig. Babies are expensive,” she says, picking at the label on her beer bottle. “I was at Zane’s the night you were there. The night you fell in the hot tub,”
“Of course you were. You took the photos of us…”
“I didn’t know there was another photographer. The man has a lot of bushes. For all we know, there was more than just us,” she jokes. “Honestly, when I saw you two hooking up, I knew I’d get good money for the photos. I only had a cheap camera at the time. I didn’t work for anyone back then. I just took photos and submitted them, hoping someone would want them and pay. Those paid well.”
“I’m sure they did,” I click my tongue and take a sip of my tea.
“You have to understand a little,” she says, her tone matching mine. “You were paparazzi too.”
I can’t say much to that. Because she isn’t wrong. When I don’t respond, she goes on.
“Anyways. I followed your story for a while. I looked you up, curious who the woman was that Zane fell in love with and brought into his house. I was jealous, you know? Like, who is this woman who started as a nobody and became the love of his life? And then, when I dug deeper and found out you used to work at a daycare and all that, I realized that maybe the two of you would be better parents to my son.”
“Do you think you’re a bad mom?” I ask.
“I love him,” she says quickly. “And I did my best. I worked my ass off to make sure he had what he needed. But I didn’t want to get pregnant. I’ve never wanted that. And to be a single mom? It was my worst nightmare.”
I swallow, trying my best to process what she’s saying. Trying to understand where she is coming from. “So let me get this straight: if I can. You had feelings for Zane, and they weren’t reciprocated. He broke it off, and you found out you werepregnant,” I say. She nods, peeling more of the label off her beer bottle. “You carried out the pregnancy–”
“I would have never done anything else,” she cuts in.
“And then you had Bentley. You took care of him the best you could, making money off photos for media,” I go on.
“And waitressing,” she adds. “I live with my sister. She watched him while I was at work.”
“And then, after taking photos of us, you decided we would be better suited to take care of him than you were?” I ask. Her eyes fill with tears, though she is successful at blinking them back.
“I thought about taking Bentley to Zane many, many times. I mean, think about it. He’s rich. He could take care of him better than I ever could. Bentley deserves that. It’s not his fault I got pregnant. It’s not his fault his daddy doesn’t love me. He deserves the best. And Zane can give him the best,” she says. “You know…I went as far as to pack him up in my car to take him over there more than once. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“I can only imagine,” I say softly. “So what changed? The night you brought him to Zane’s? What compelled you to go through with it that night?”
“You,” she says, and my heart stops. “I’d been taking photos of you two for a while because I knew they’d sell. And while doing that, I watched you two together. You’re spicy as shit with each other, but I knew you loved each other. I could see it. I knew you were right for Bentley. And as I continued to keep an eye out, I realized I wasn’t wrong. You are exactly what he needed. What I’ll never be.”
“Nikki,” my voice cracks. “You may not feel like a good mother for him but you–”
“I didn’t want to be a mom, Ashlyn,” she cuts me off. “You do. Handing him over to Zane was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I know it was right. It was devastating and relieving all at the same time.”
I study her for a moment. All of a sudden, I feel for her. She’s not who I thought she was. She’s alone, scared, and desperate. In the same way I am desperate to be a mother, she was desperate to do the right thing for a child she couldn’t take care of the way she knew he needed.
“So why did you take the other photos then? For Deborah? Surely you knew the damage they’d cause,” I tell her.
She nods. “I did. So it wasn’t initially Deborah at Sigma that came to me or that gave me the idea. It was Jett.”
“Jett…Navarro?” I ask, and she nods with a small smile.
“Yeah. I don’t know how he knew who I was. This is Hollywood, and there are no secrets. But he sat down next to me at a bar one night, flirted a little, and then told me that Sigma was looking for some really juicy pics of Zane. At first, I wanted to tell him to fuck off. But he just kept going on and on about how you and Zane and Bentley were so happy together and how I should feel like you stole the life I could have had. And as stupid as it sounds, I bought into it. I was jealous. Then Deborah at Sigma contacted me. She knew I had access to his property, or at least knowledge of it. She gave me a job, the assignment, and this camera. She offered decent money. But because of my conversation with Jett, it wasn’t just for the money anymore. I wanted revenge. I wanted to hurt Zane. And you.”
“You knew it would be the family Bentley needed, but it also hurt to see us together,” I say, and she nods.
“And in the end, I hurt Bentley too,” she says.
I swallow hard, taking a sip of my tea. “So what made you come clean?” I ask. “Why did you want to talk to me?”
“I guess I just see the damage I caused and wanted to make it right,” she says.
“No offense, Nikki, but I don’t think there’s much you can do at this point to make it right.”
