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I feel my frustration building, and I have to step back. I rub my hand over my mouth. “It’s not an everyday occurrence,” I remind her. “And I would hope that you’d be willing to tolerate this because I’m in love with you, and being with me brings a whole host of things that are uncomfortable and a pain in the ass, but we can deal with it.”
Her mouth opens as if she’s about to reply, only when my words sink in, she closes it again and just blinks at me.
“I didn’t mean to say it like that. Fuck.”
But before I can walk to her and try to smooth things over, she receives a text, and her cheeks go white as the blood leaves her face.
“What is it?”
“Hi, this is Shelly Moran with TMZ,” she begins, reading aloud, “and I’d like to request a one-on-one interview with you regarding your relationship with Vaughn Barrymore and why you’ve kept your real name a secret. I’d also like to ask questions about your father, Luke Williams. Please call me at your earliest convenience.”
“Right, like you’d actually call her,” I say, scoffing. “Do they think you’re stupid? They’ll try anything.”
“Vaughn, they’ve connected the dots to my dad. I—I’ve worked damn hard to keep us separate professionally, and you know it. And just like that, they know. And whether I comment or not, they’ll start talking about it.”
I nod and blow out a breath. “Honestly, that was bound to happen eventually, with or without me. You’re making a name for yourself in this business, and they’ll start to dig into your family.”
“You don’t fucking get it,” she says, her white face flushing with anger now. It’s quite possible that she might throw something at me. “You don’t care. This is an invasion of my privacy that I didn’t ask for just because I’m screwing around with you.”
I narrow my eyes, and my heartbeat picks up. “Is that all we’re doing, Liv? I just told you that I love you, and you’re pissed because you’re inconvenienced by screwing around with me?”
“You’re not the victim here,” she says, shaking her head.
“And neither are you.” Jesus, no one has ever been able to cut me to the bone the way Olivia Williams can. “Of course, I care that this has hurt you. Jesus, I wouldn’t want you hurt for anything in the world, but it happened, and now we deal with it. Your father must have a media department. You can have a rep comment for you, and we’ll move on with our lives. In the grand scheme of things, this is just a blip, Liv. Shit like this happens.”
“To you,” she stresses. “Not to me. Because my dad worked hard to protect me from it. And now, less than a month of knowing you, all those years of diligence and hard work are just out the goddamn window.”
“Okay, now you’re being a little dramatic.”
Her eyes narrow menacingly, and I know without a doubt that that was exactly the wrong thing to say.
“I have to go. I need to get to work.”
She shoves her feet into some shoes and grabs her bag, walking to the door.
“You can see yourself out.”
“Come back here and talk to me, damn it.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you right now,” she replies over her shoulder as she hurries down the stairs. “Or, if this is better for you: No fucking comment.”
And with that, she marches out of the house, and I’m left standing at the top of her stairs, naked as the day I was born.
“Shit,” I whisper and return to her bedroom to get dressed. “What a fucking mess.”
I need to start doing some research and make some calls. Someone gave her number out.
And they’ll pay for it.
Chapter 16
~Olivia~
I drive away from my house but don’t point the car toward work.
I can’t go there.
Instead, I dial my dad’s number. “Please answer, please answer.”
“What’s the story, morning glory?” he says, the way he always does when he answers my calls.
“Are you still at home?”
“Yeah, I was just about to head to the office. What’s up?”
“Can you stay there for a few?” I take a deep breath. “I need to come to see you and Mom.”
“Sure thing. Come on over. Are you okay, baby?”
“I don’t know, I just need to talk to you. I’m almost there.”
“Okay, I’ll have the coffee ready. See you soon.”
He hangs up, and I swallow a lump in my throat. I’m too damn mad, too confused to cry. I need to talk to my parents.
I hurry out of my car after parking in their driveway and rush through the front door.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Mom calls out.
I find them both in the kitchen, Dad pouring coffee while Mom spreads jam on some toast.
They look at me and then glance at each other.
