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Another wave of dizziness hits again, and I crawl into the closet and grab my grandma’s afghan. I make it to my bed, wrapping it around me. I sit in the dark, and the sobs come one after the next. When I calm, I stare at my phone because I know I have to send Maddox a text. I pick it up, my fingers trembling so much I almost drop it.
When I go to swipe the screen to unlock it, I freeze. Ireallydon’t want to open my phone. Because if I do, I might see something.
An article of me and Duncan running away to Scotland together. Another gossip column about my shitty performance onUrban Dawn. A social media post where someone spotted me in a baseball cap with no makeup, saying I look hideous.
Focus. Write Maddox.
I think of texting him again, but if I tell him what happened, he’ll come here, and I don’t want him to see me like this. Moreimportantly, I don’t want him to miss his lesson. He was so excited about it.
I just need to type out one line.I’m sick—I can’t make it, sorry.
Yes, I can do that. Then I just need to sleep, except there’s no way I can fall asleep when I feel like this.
When I hear the snick of the lock on the front door, I let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Riley, it’s me Maddox,” he calls. “It’s only me. May I come in?”
That’s right. I gave Maddox a spare key. Trying to control my breath and even my voice, I say, “In my room.”
When he opens the door and flips on the light, he takes one look at me and his face contorts. “Jesus.” He sits on the bed and wraps his arms around me.
“I’m okay,” I lie. I’m one big, raw nerve, electric and vulnerable.
“No. I saw the footage of your being attacked by the paparazzi. You’re not okay, and you don’t have to be.”
His words give me permission to let go of the pretense of being strong, and I break into sobs.
He wraps his arms tighter around me, and I burrow my head into the crook of his shoulder. As he holds me, he runs a hand through my hair, saying, “I’m so sorry.” He kisses the top of my head. “I should’ve been there. I never should’ve let you leave work alone.”
I realize what he probably saw in the footage, and I say, “I’m not with that guy, Maddox.”
“Of course you’re not.”
I flutter out a sigh of relief. I forgot Maddox knows better than anyone that what the gossip columns post is almost always bullshit. “He was a probate lawyer of my grandmother’s.”
“You should’ve never been alone,” Maddox repeats. “My bodyguard is outside your apartment now.”
“What are you gonna do?” I pull away and meet his gaze. “Always wait for me when I leave work? Because you know there’ll always be another photog, another reporter, another social media influencer. The next, and the next, and the next.”
“We’ll get you a bodyguard. You should’ve already had one.”
I don’t want a bodyguard. I don’t want any of this.
We go quiet as he pulls me into another hug, and he just lets me breathe into his chest until my heart rate slows—until I can get air into my lungs again. When I finally relax, I’m so bone-dead exhausted, I can’t think about anything other than going to sleep.
Maddox helps me into the bathroom where we brush our teeth, then he makes sure I don’t stumble as he helps me change into my pajamas. He walks me to bed before going around to the other side, stripping to his boxers, and crawling in beside me.
He puts his arm around me and spoons me, never asking me one thing about Duncan.
He just holds me all night long.
21
Top of The World
“Riley, Maddox,” Smith barks after we wrap up filming for the day. “Meet me on the roof in ten minutes.”
I shoot him a puzzled look. “On the roof?” I’ve only been up there a couple of times, but the place has a pool and an outdoor bar. Most days, it is empty and private, which is why Smith might want us there.
