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“That’s way too much information.”
Taylor pumps her brows at me, grinning coyly. “Don’t even get mestartedon the implications of dating an older man.”
I playfully bump her shoulder with mine. “Oh, shut up.”
I absentmindedly rub my belly. I’ve put on a couple pounds in the last couple of weeks. Whether it’s because I’m pregnant or the stress of dealing with the paparazzi camped outside my door, I can’t be sure. At this rate, I’m going to need an entirely new wardrobe sooner than later.
Taylor’s right. Hunter needs to know. I had every intention of telling him. What I didn’t expect was to see him and my mother together, sharing a moment that… Yeah, okay. In hindsight, maybe I overreacted a little.
But now that shit’s hit the fan, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to reach out. Learning that he used to work for Walton as an enforcer, all the shitty things he said about Dad —true or otherwise— and now these leaked photos… It’d only complicate things further if I told him about the baby. We’ve got enough to worry about as it is, and I’m hesitant to cause any more trouble.
Taylor’s phone rings. She grimaces at the screen.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” I ask.
She nods. “Every hour on the hour. Should I tell him you’re here?”
“Please don’t. I’m… I’m not ready.”
“Dude’s not going to stop until he knows you’re okay. You might be angry at each other, but that doesn’t mean he stopped caring about you.”
I lick my lips, pick at my nails. “Tell him I’m fine. That I called and I’m safe. I decided to stay with a friend in Seattle.”
“You have a friend in Seattle? I thought I was your only friend.”
I sigh. “Just go along with it.”
“Fine, fine. But for the record, I’m going to start charging you by the minute. My phone plan ain’t cheap.”
“Just answer, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Taylor presses the green call button and holds her cell up to her ear. “Hello? Hey, Hunter… She did call, yes… Um, with a friend in Seattle. No, I don’t have a name. Look, she’s really freaked out. She just wants space… I don’t know why she’s not answering. Maybe she’s screening her calls? Yes, I’ll tell her. Oh! Do you think you can call, like, your guy and get those paparazzi off my front lawn? They’re making itreallyhard to go anywhere. Yeah, you know. Your guy. Don’t you type A power suit dudes always have a guy—Hello?”
“Did he hang up on you?” I ask.
“Yeah, he did. I think he’s going to take care of it, though.”
“What did he say?”
“Not a whole lot. The same spiel as usual. He wants to know you’re safe, how you’re doing, yada yada… Poor man’s so gone for you it’s not even funny.”
My chest tightens, guilt weighing heavily in my gut.
I really want to hear his voice. I miss not seeing him every day. The first thing I want to do if I get the chance is to apologize for slapping him. I’m disgusted by my actions. Yes, his words were harsh, yes, I was furious as hell, but I never should have raised a hand to him. I desperately crave his arms around me. I miss his warmth, his smell, his low voice murmuring in my ear.
But I’m terrified. All I have the strength to focus on right now is keeping my baby —and by extension myself— safe. When things die down, when the news cycle finally has enough of our scandal, maybe I’ll come out of hiding. Until then, I need to lie low. It’s not just for my sake, but for Hunter as well.
There’s a very good chance his career might not survive this.
Bringing a baby into the mix may very well seal the deal.
My phone rings, startling me out of my thoughts. I’ve spent the greater part of the last two weeks blocking every unknown number that’s tried to reach me. First my address, then my email, and next my phone. Someone out there is either really good at tracking down my personal information, or someone’s deliberately leaked it to the public.
It’s the Malibu Paradise Clinic, Dad’s rehabilitation center.
I answer in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Ms. Spencer?” a woman’s voice asks. It’s Clare, the nurse who showed us around the first day. “Um, we have a bit of a situation…”
