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Then there are photos of me and Elliot in New York together last week, holding hands as we walked out of a restaurant. Another where he is kissing me in the car. Another of us in a shop and Elliot buying me lingerie. Another shot of me with Elizabeth Miles at our lunch date.
“Get fucked,” Daniel whispers in horror.
“What the hell?” I put my hands over my mouth.
It goes to a shot of our house. Our eyes meet. “Hang on a minute, how did they get that?” He slowly gets up and walks to the window and his face falls. “Shit.”
“What?” I run over and peer through the curtains to see a sea of photographers all set up on the pathway opposite our apartment. Cameras facing the house, waiting for their shot.
“Oh my God.” I put my head into my hands. “This is a disaster, what do we do now?”
He hands me his phone. “Call him and find out. He does own a media company, after all. Surely there’s a law about making up lies about people.”
I exhale heavily. “I don’t want to call him.”
“Have you got a better idea?” Daniel points at the window. “Asking him what to do in this situation is not taking him back, Kate.”
“You’re right. Ugh, fine. I’ll call him from my phone.” I head toward the stairs.
“Let me know what he says.”
“Okay.” I trudge up the stairs and pick up my phone, turn it on.
Thirty-six missed calls from Elliot.
I sit on the bed and hold the phone in my hands. I really don’t want to call him.
What is there to say?
My phone rings in my hand, causing me to jump and fumble with it. It’s him.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Kate . . . hi.” His voice is soft, cautious.
I stay silent, unsure what to say.
“I’m sorry about the press, I’ll handle it tomorrow.”
“How?” I ask. “How will you handle it, Elliot?”
“I don’t—” He cuts himself off.
“The love triangle . . . with pictures as proof.” I get a lump in my throat as shame overwhelms me.
He lets out an audible sigh. “Don’t cry, sweetheart, I’ll fix it.”
“If I could believe anything that comes out of your mouth, then maybe I’d believe you,” I spit. “You can’t fix this, Elliot.”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“You are not, there are fifty reporters parked out the front.”
“I’ll get Andrew to collect you. I’ll meet you at my apartment in town. I’m relocating there tomorrow anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be followed to Enchanted Estate. I don’t want them knowing where I live.”
“These stories are lies. I’m not with Daniel,” I spit, except I accidently nearly was and I’m mortified.
“I know that.”
“But—”
“They don’t care,” he cuts me off. “Just stay there until Andrew arrives.”
“No. Nothing has changed, Elliot, I don’t want to see you.”
“We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I’ll come myself,” he splutters.
“And I will kick you out in front of the press. Do not come here, Elliot, I mean it.”
“Kate, that isn’t fair,” he snaps. “You know I need to see you, don’t hold me hostage to the reporters outside your house. I want to talk to you.”
I shake my head, disgusted. “It’s always about you . . . isn’t it, Elliot?” I whisper. “What you need, what’s best for you . . . your dream girl. What you want.”
“Enough,” he barks.
“Okay. Fine.” Exasperated, I hang up.
The phone rings immediately and I answer it. “Do not hang up on me.”
“Fuck you.” I hang up again.
It rings again. “What?” I cry. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Please.” His voice softens. “Baby . . . I need to see you. We can sort this media mess out, but we need to be together to do it.”
I screw up my face in tears. When his voice is soft like that, it reminds me of the man I care about.
“Kathryn,” he says sternly. “Let me send Andrew, and come and meet me at my apartment.”
I listen.
“At the very least it will get you out, they can’t follow you into my building, you’re safe there. Regardless of what happens with you and I, you need to leave your house or they will hound you to death and make up more lies.”
I close my eyes. “I don’t want—”
“I just want to talk, Kate. I promise.”
“But . . .”
“Pack a bag so they know you won’t be back soon. That way they will leave.”
I pace back and forth as I think, pull the curtains to the side and peer out at the crowded street.
Reporters are sitting on fold-up chairs and smoking cigarettes. Settled in for the night. I get a vision of them staying for weeks and accosting Daniel as he tries to go to work. This isn’t fair to Daniel or Rebecca.
Fuck.
He’s right, I need to get out of here, regardless. He’s the only one who can make that happen.
