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She knew who I was. Which meant she’d told Zeke that I’d called, and he’d told her he didn’t want to talk to me.
“Y-yes.”
I felt like a total idiot.
“A word of advice, woman to woman, from someone who’s worked in this industry a long time. A fake pregnancy is not the way to get in with any band. Whether you want an interview, an autograph, or a job. Think about that. And next time, I highly recommend not sleeping with someone you want to interview. Take care, Ms. Figueroa.”
And with that, she hung up.
I stared at the phone in my hand for a long time before putting it down.
He didn’t want to talk to me.
He didn’t believe I was pregnant even though he had to remember that moment when he’d been bare inside me.
Didn’t he?
The tiny sliver of hope I’d been holding on to disappeared in a cloud of imaginary smoke. I slid beneath the covers of my bed and wrapped my arms around my body pillow, letting the ever-present tears fall unchecked. I’d known he wouldn’t want any type of relationship with me, but I’d been sure he would care that he had a child coming into the world.
But he didn’t.
And it was devastating.
At the end of the day, I would be okay. One way or another, I’d find a way to take care of my baby and support all of us, even if I had to work three jobs. I just had to get past the hurt first.
It currently felt like the whole world was against me, from Zeke to Dr. Russell to that Aurora Bentley woman, and it was the most painful thing I’d ever gone through. It felt like I’d been bruised and battered, right down to my soul, but I would prove to all of them that I was tougher than they thought. They’d knocked me down, but I’d get up again. As many times as I had to.
It was going to take every ounce of strength I had, and things would probably get a lot worse before they got better, but I didn’t have any choice but to push forward. Aunt Meg and the baby growing inside of me needed me.
Hell, I needed me.
To hold my head high and do the right thing for myself and for my baby.
The only option was for me to push forward.
One step, one day, one obstacle at a time.
13
Presley
One Year Later…
It was late when I got home from my shift at the restaurant. I’d only been working at this place for a month, but I was finally feeling like myself again. Well, I was getting there. My body might never recover from pregnancy, but it was a lot better. It had been four months since I’d given birth to a beautiful baby boy, who was the light of my life. He’d come into the world right on his due date and made his entrance after just forty-five minutes of pushing. Aunt Meg had been there to hold my hand and cut the cord, and I’d made her cry when I told her I was naming him after her late husband.
Jeremy William Zerkesian.
There hadn’t been a chance in hell I wasn’t giving him his father’s name.
The further along I’d gotten in my pregnancy, the angrier I’d been.
At myself, because I was partially responsible, but mostly at Zeke.
We’d had this accident together, and being a rich, famous rockstar didn’t give him a free pass to walk away just because he didn’t like me. Our son deserved a father, and I deserved the financial support he could provide. I didn’t need anything for myself, but I constantly needed things for the baby. Getting to him was another matter. That had proven to be more difficult than I’d anticipated, and short of going to the media, I’d been dragging my feet on calling the management company again.
I didn’t want my life to turn into a circus, which was exactly what would happen if I went to the press. Sure, Zeke would hear about it, and if he saw my face, he’d know it was possible I was telling the truth. But at what cost? And what if he decided Jeremy was better off with him? The very thought turned my blood cold.
“You awake, Aunt Meg?” I asked softly as I let myself in. The only light in the room came from the soft glow of the TV, and Aunt Meg was on the couch feeding the baby.
