Page 71 of From LA to London, With Love

Goddamn it. That did not fit with my narrative that Chris was another asshole that I needed to forget about. Why would he have donated all that money and not told me about it? Perhaps he’d attended the fundraiser and Cynthia’s dinner party just to impress me, but that couldn’t have been his motivation for the donation. The anonymous donation.

I shook my head. “I just don’t get it. I just can’t reconcile the Chris I thought I knew, the Chris who I could definitely imagine giving an anonymous donation to Pride House because he cared more about helping people than getting applauded for it, with the Chris who has disappeared and blocked my number for no apparent reason.”

Just then, my phone started buzzing. I pulled it out of my coat pocket, and my stomach somersaulted.

“Shit, it’s a US number!” Part of me still hoped Chris would call me and tell me it had all been an awful mistake. Could it be him?

“Oh my god. Answer it!” Josh exclaimed. “And if it’s Chris, I want to give him a massive talking to.”

My hands shaking, I accepted the call.

“Hello?” My voice sounded strangled.

“Is that Sophie?”

My heart sank. It was a man’s voice, a man with an American accent, but it wasn’t Chris. I shook my head at Josh.

“Yes, speaking. Who is this?”

“This is Robert, Robert Sherman. I just saw your email this morning, I’ve been traveling for work. You said you knew my son, Chris Sherman, and could put me in touch with him?” His voice was shaky.

I was lost for words. Since Chris had given me the go ahead in Chicago, I’d spent some time searching for his father. I’d reached out to a few Robert Shermans who looked about the right age on Facebook and all the other big social media sites, without any luck. I’d searched the Whitepages and called all the Robert Shermans I could find and sent letters to those who didn’t answer. I’d even reached out to my old friend, Sam, who used to be an investigative journalist and now worked at one of the New York papers, to see if she could help. I’d given her all the information I had, sworn her to the utmost secrecy, and she’d found the email address of another Robert Sherman in Boston, who I’d emailed on Saturday morning, hours before I’d found out Chris had left. To protect Chris’s privacy, I’d been careful not to mention his current name—I’d just said that if Robert had a son called Chris Sherman, he should contact me if he wanted to be put in touch.

Chris’s departure had pushed my search for his father to the back of my mind.

I tried to collect myself. I cared about Chris, even if he never wanted to see me again. If this really was his father, I needed to finish what I’d started.

“It’s Chris’s biological dad,” I mouthed to Josh, whose eyes widened with surprise.

“Ah, yes. Thanks so much for reaching out to me, Mr. Sherman. If you don’t mind, would you be able to confirm Chris’s mother’s name and where you used to live with them, just to make sure I’m speaking to the right person?”

“Sure. Brunswick, Illinois, and her name is Julie Sherman.”

Shit, it was him.

“Thank you. I’m…um…one of Chris’s friends.” I stumbled over the words, unsure how to describe myself in relation to Chris anymore. “Julie showed me some photos of you and Chris when he was young, and I offered to try tracking you down. I can’t believe I found you. If it’s not too personal, would you mind…would you mind telling me what happened? According to Julie and Chris, you left one morning without warning, and they never heard from you again. I’m sure you had a good reason, but I just want to make sure your story won’t cause them more heartbreak before I put you in touch.”

Without hesitation, Robert told me the story of why he left Julie and Chris, his failed attempts to contact them, of how much he missed Chris and still thought about him every day. When he had received my email, he had been over the moon. It was a heartbreaking story but one I thought Julie and Chris would want to hear. I warmed to him immediately.

“Would you be happy for me to share your details with Chris, so he can reach out to you if and when he’s ready?” I asked when Robert had finished.

“Yes, of course,” he replied.

As soon as I was off the phone, Josh, who’d been listening intently to my side of the conversation, turned to me. “I can’t believe you found him! What’s he like? What are you going to do?”

“He seemed really…nice. I’ll call Jenny when I get inside, give her Robert’s details, and let her pass them on to Chris, given he’s not speaking to me.” I didn’t want whatever was going on between Chris and me to affect his reunion with his father, so I was planning on asking her not to mention my name when she passed on Robert’s details—although Chris would probably figure it out, given he knew I was looking for his biological father.

We stopped outside my parents’ house.

“That makes sense. You know, Soph, you are amazing. If the business with Rose and Mia doesn’t work out, you should really consider a career change to a detective. First Alfie, and now Chris’s dad.” He enveloped me in a warm bear hug. “Try to get some sleep tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow. Look after yourself.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHRIS

I WAS BACK on the white couch, staring at my phone. However, this time I wasn’t mindlessly scrolling. Instead, I was obsessively refreshing the website of the newspaper Sam Roberts worked at to see if the photos Sophie sent had been published. Since I’d gotten back to the mansion, I’d had the urge to call Serena, to book up my calendar for the next two years—hell, the next five years—with films, to throw myself into work. Much better to act out other people’s pain and trauma than live my own. But there was no point. Once the photos went public, my career would be over. The dick pics had been one thing, but these photos…I shuddered. My reputation would never recover.

It had been three days since I’d arrived back in LA, and the photos still hadn’t been released. I was starting to feel uneasy. What was going on? Surely, they’d want to publish them as soon as possible? Something as scandalous as those photos…they’d want to get in before anyone else did.