“Maybe I was wrong.” She sighs. “The way he was acting, he doesn’t deserve the truth. If he pulls his head out of his ass in the future and decides to come around, I’ll be the first to reconsider. But as far as I’m concerned, if he can’t act like a mature adult, he shouldn’t be included in adult decisions.”
A tear slips down my cheek. “You’re a real cow, Harper Kline.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a big priss.”
Masters steps up to her side. “Hate to break up this love-fest, but Kat… I want to talk to you about security.”
My brows lift. “What about it?”
“I’m thinking we might need more.” He glances around the perimeter of my house. The security gate, a wrought-iron fence, and a few hedges are all that’s keeping us separated from the outside world. “They were already pretty rabid — you saw the man on the motorcycle today, the paps outside the studio. When news of this baby spreads… they’re only going to get more frenzied for pictures. We need to be cautious. Make sure the gate is locked at all times, maybe think about setting up some extra cameras. Never go out by yourself. They’ll be waiting to ambush you — at the grocery store, on the walk to your car, everywhere you go. Constant vigilance is the only way to combat them.”
A wave of exhaustion crashes through me at just the thought.
“Enough doom and gloom for one day,” Harper says, linking her arm with mine and tugging me inside. “What are we doing for dinner?”
My feet freeze halfway up the walk as a thought occurs to me.
“What?” she asks, alarmed. “Kat, what is it?”
Dinner.
Thai takeout.
Wyatt.
There’s no way he hasn’t seen the news by now — it’s all over the tabloids. As soon as the story broke —KAT’S OUT OF THE BAG! #GRAYKAT SECRET LOVE CHILD!— it started circulating on every social media platform.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Kat?” Harper prompts, concern etching her features.
“Wyatt,” I whisper hollowly. “What the hell am I going to tell Wyatt?”
Twelve
“Treat othersas you want to be treated.”
- A girl who’s just given a really great blow job.
The Thai foodgrows cold in its containers as it sits on the counter. I ordered it more for show than anything — a prop, carefully arranged, setting the stage for the scene about to play out. I have no appetite. Unmoving, I stare at the clock in the darkening kitchen and wait for him to come. There’s no question in my mind that he’ll show up. It’s just a matter of when.
He knows the security code for the outer gate, and I’ve left my door unlocked. I’m not sure how long I sit there before I hear the crunch of tires on my gravel driveway. The steady march of his feet across my porch. The swing of the front door as he steps inside. The soft click of it closing at his back.
It doesn’t take him long to find me, sitting in the dark, staring at the congealed noodles through the plastic cover like they might offer up some answers. A part of me wishes Harper and Masters were still here, but I know that’s a selfish desire. This is something I have to face on my own.
He stops in the archway. I can feel his gaze on me, but I’m scared to meet it.
“Is it true?”
There is no anger in his voice. None of Grayson’s fury or fear. Just a stoic sort of sadness, blanketing his words.
I look up at him, standing there in the doorway, his broad shoulders silhouetted in the fading beams of sunset shining through the windows behind him. My breath catches as I study the gorgeous planes of his face. I have traced its every feature, from the elegant slope of his nose to the tiny dimple in his left cheek. I have kissed him until my lungs were aching for air, more willing to asphyxiate than pull away.
“Yes,” I say, voice hollow. “It’s true.”
I’m confirming something he already knows, but my words still jolt through him. His head bows a bit, as if he’s no longer able to look at me directly. As if the very sight of me is too painful to take in.
My eyes fill with useless tears.