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“Nicole…”
When Jenni can’t get any more words out through the frog in her throat, Emily takes over the campaign. “You scared us half to death. If River hadn’t kept us updated, we would have been on your doorstep days ago.” The tired droop of my eyes has her missing my surprised response at who’s kept them in the loop. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
Jenni sees straight through my lie. “No, truly. How are you?”
I flop onto my bed before confessing, “I feel like shit. My head is thumping. My skin is clammy and covered with bumps, and I’m reasonably sure I’m about to get my period.” I do everything humanly possible to stop my mouth from spilling my next confession, but it blurts out before I can stop it. “I’m also heartbroken.”
“Oh, honey…” A smidge of gaffer tape fixes a crack in my heart when Jenni ends her sympathy-filled reply with a demand for the men behind her. “Back to packing. The jet leaves in ten minutes. If you’re not on it, you’re staying here.”
* * *
Knox hits me with a stern glare when I join him in the living room thirty minutes past the scheduled time of my interview. It took ages to convince Jenni and Emily to stay with their partners and children in the United Kingdom. It was almost as long as it took them to assure me I was not as stupid as I felt.
Laken didn’t solely pull the wool over my eyes.
He convinced them he was a good guy as well.
Even Noah had nothing but praise for him when he interrupted my conversation with Marcus earlier this week to get his opinion on hiring Laken as a producer on my album. He usually keeps everyone at arm’s length, his panic about losing them higher than a fear of living a lonely life.
“You should consider yourself lucky this show is prerecorded.”
When I follow his stalk across the living room to tell Bonnie I’ve arrived, my heart faces its third stutter of the day. River is standing at the entrance of the corridor that leads to the bedrooms. His face is as white as mine, and his clothing is on par with someone about to attend a funeral.
Looking at him hurts. His genes can't be denied, even with an extra chromosome adding a cute edge to his sharp features. He has more than a handful of similarities to his brother, and the longer I drink them in, the firmer the guilt strangling my heart becomes.
When Knox notices the direction of my gaze, he snarls, “I told you to stay in your room.”
“It’s fine,” I assure him, stopping his stomp to River and forcing the production crew's focus back to me. “He’s not doing any harm.”
Knox lowers his voice to barely a whisper. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”
Although I’d give anything to hug River until his shakes subside, my hurt is too high to do that right now. So instead, I tell Knox I’d feel more comfortable if he pointed me in the direction of the makeup chair.
“I won’t win over anyone if I look like a ghost.”
My inability to get over my hurt for someone undeserving of my wrath doesn’t maim me as badly as expected when River’s shakes lessen as Knox pivots away from him so he can guide me to the other side of the living room.
After soundlessly apologizing to Bonnie for my tardiness, I return my eyes to the hallway.
It is empty.
River is gone.
His emotion-packed retorts are on par with his brother’s.
Too emotional to take all the blame, I shift some of it onto Knox. “What happened wasn’t River’s fault.” When he looks at me, lost, I add, “You yelled at him for no reason.”
Bonnie hums in agreement with me as Knoxpffts.“That wasn’t yelling.”
“It was, and it isn’t the first time you’ve done it in the past three days.” I might have been high on the sleeping tablets a doctor prescribed so I could sleep off my grief, but they weren’t strong enough for me to miss a handful of heated conversations between Knox and River.
Well, I can’t really call them conversations since they were one-sided.
Knox looks set to continue arguing, so you can imagine my shock when he caves instead. “But I’ll be more mindful of my tone from here on out.” He hits me with pleading puppy-dog eyes. “Am I forgiven?”
