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Eva lifts the plastic storage box she dropped at the top of the steps and walks toward her bedroom door. I can’t see her expression from here, but that’s probably a good thing. She leans the crate against the doorjamb, holding it in place with her hip, and opens the door.
Nothing happens.
Eva looks over her shoulder, directly at the camera. She raises an eyebrow. The balloons drop onto her head.
Matt crows with laughter. “Classic! You didn’t see it coming.”
“Are you trying to tell me the delay was intentional?” Eva grasps the sides of the crate and kicks balloons away from her feet. The last few fall as she flips the light switch. Catching sight of the sticky notes, she lets out a “Whaaa?” and starts laughing. She drops the box and moves into the room, turning in a circle. Head shaking, she covers her face. “Holy crap! I can’t believe you—how long did this take?” She wanders around the room, touching the colorful squares hanging from the walls, the bed frame, the ceiling fan chain.
I get it all on film.
Matt wanders into the video. “Three months, off and on. I started the day you left.”
She punches his shoulder, hard. “You are going to help me take these down, old man.”
“Hey!” He rubs his arm. “Is that any way to treat your father? This was a labor of love.”
“More like a labor of crazy.” She pulls a note from the wall and sticks it to his nose.
I tap the button to stop recording and pocket my phone. As they cheerfully bicker over who will remove the remains of the prank, I tiptoe down the stairs.
Chapter 23
MATT
When we get downstairs for the next load of Eva’s belongings, Nica is hovering in the foyer. She looks from me to Eva and back. “Do you need help?”
“Sure!” Eva says before I can demure.
Nica follows Eva into the driveway. The photographer jumps out of his car and hurries across the road, snapping pictures again. He runs right up to Eva and gets in her face. “We got a threesome going now?”
“Hey!” I start forward. No one talks to my daughter like that.
Before I reach them, Eva pulls her elbow back beside her ear and smashes the heel of her hand into the guy’s face. Boitano screams and goes down, blood gushing from his nose. He drops his phone, which Eva snatches up.
“Gimme my phone!” Boitano struggles to a seated position, reaching for the device. Blood pours down his face, and he grabs for his nose.
Eva steps out of reach, swiping and clicking.
“Check his cloud storage, too,” Nica says.
“Already on it.”
The paparazzo wipes his bloody hand on the grass, the other one pinching his nose. “Gimme my phone! I’m calling the cops.”
I pull out my phone. “Too late.” I tap my contacts and dial the local sheriff’s deputy. “Brad, we’ve got a trespasser threatening my daughter.”
“I didn’t threaten anyone!” Boitano shouts as he backs away, blood still dripping from his nose. “She punched me!”
In my ear, Brad laughs. “Is that the photographer who was harassing Blake and Rachel?”
“Yeah, he’s back.”
“And someone punched him? Any witnesses?”
I take a couple steps away, turning so Boitano can’t see my face and lowering my voice. “Just me and Nica. Can he press charges?”
“That’s not really how it works. If I come out there, I’ll have to write up a report. Or if he calls us, we’ll write the report. The prosecutor decides whether to press charges. If it’s just a bloody nose, and he’s been a nuisance, I don’t think Worthington will bother. Where did it happen?”
