Knox (A Merrick Brothers Novel)

by Prescott Lane

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Mae

  Staring up at the sky, I remind myself it’s the same sky in Colorado, but clearly, I’m not in Haven’s Point anymore. We don’t have parties like this. Our parties are small watch parties at The Tune Up, or involve the Silver Sirens singing to my Gigi at the lake as everyone swims and hangs out. We eat on paper plates, not fine china. We grill, not cater. We don’t have to buy new dresses, and our cutoff jean shorts work just fine.

  If someone follows you in Colorado, that’s called stalking, and you call the police and have them arrested, but that’s an everyday occurrence for Knox. He lives amidst ongoing threats and doesn’t seem to blink an eye. It’s a complete warped sense of reality out here, but this is Knox’s life, full of money, glamor, women. My life is more coffee shop, lake house, simple.

  “I miss you,” Knox says, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

  “How many other women in there have you slept with?” I ask, pulling away from him. Does he really think I didn’t pick up on that?

  “How did you know?”

  “I knew as soon as she approached us. The way your hands landed on her arms when she leaned in to kiss your cheek, like you didn’t want her any closer.”

  “It’s over. It was a long time ago.”

  “You forgot the it’s nothing,” I say, raising an eyebrow at him.

  “I have a past. So do you,” he says. “Let’s . . .”

  “I don’t fit in here,” I say softly. “This isn’t who I am. Not at this party. Not in fancy stores.”

  “This isn’t who I am, either. I’m the same guy who made you cassettes,” he says.

  “Are you?” I ask.

  “Yes, you know that.” I nod my head in the affirmative, because I do, in fact, know. “This here,” he says, pointing back to the house, the party, “it’s just part of my job.”

  “Please,” I say with sass, “you’re Hollywood royalty. As for me, I’d be more comfortable in the kitchen, talking to the staff than whoever these people are.”

  “There are some good people in there,” he says. “You just have to weed through them, just like with anything else.”

  I look up into his handsome face, those blue eyes of his, the ones I’ve known almost my whole life, and I realize none of this other stuff really matters. What matters is that we are together. The size of the party or the house? Designer clothes or cutoffs? At the end of the day, he’s the boy that talked me through my childhood via cassette. Strip away everything else, and that’s who we are.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, taking a deep breath and holding my hands up to indicate the massive real estate before us. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”

  “I know,” Knox says. “Why don’t we go?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “I just needed a breather. I asked to see your life, and this is part of it.”

  “In the future, we can navigate this however you want. There are plenty of spouses that . . .”

  “Spouses? Future?” I ask, my eyes popping out of my head. Is that where his head is? That’s the direction he sees this heading?

  “I just meant there are husbands and wives that don’t walk red carpets with their spouses. They don’t do interviews or any of that stuff. It works for some couples. They want as normal a life as possible for themselves and their kids. We will have to see what works for us. For you.”

  “And our kids?” I ask, teasing him.

  “Yes,” he says, teasing me back. “All twelve of them.”

  “You’re insane.”

  He kisses me lightly on the lips. “This is a lot. I know that, but now that the public knows about us, we have to make some changes. Be more careful.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, when you go back to Haven’s Point, I’m sending you with a security guard, since I can’t be with you all the time.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Mae, what happened at the airport is just the tip of the iceberg.”

  “I can handle the press.”

  “It’s not just press. It’s crazy fans, too. Stalkers,” he says. “I won’t take any chances with your safety.”

  “Knox, this is a non-starter for me. I won’t have a guard.”

  “Mae, listen, please. Just hear me out.”

  “No,” I say again.

  “I get crazy letters.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “Some celebrities have had break-ins, attempted kidnappings, and . . .”

  “No, I won’t have a guard.”

  “You’re not listening to me,” he says, taking hold of my hips.

  “No, you’re not listening to me,” I say. “At the station, I get fan mail, too. Some of it is weird. Some of it is crazy ex’s thinking their partner broke up with them because of something I said. I get it. I do. But I need my life to be mine. I need to be as normal as possible.”

  *

  It’s early Sunday evening and I have a radio show to get back to. I stayed as long as I could, wanting every minute with Knox, but now I have to get on a plane back to Colorado. This trip has been a whirlwind.

  Knox made me call just about every person who knows about us back home to make sure there haven’t been any paparazzi sightings. Apparently, that’s why a lot of celebrities choose to live in cities outside of L.A. and New York; the paparazzi must not have a lot of frequent flyer miles. From what Gigi and Everly said, things are calm, and I should be fine in my little neck of the woods. And if a few stragglers decide to show up, it won’t be like it is here in Los Angeles. Knox also put out a few feelers to get me security and bodyguards back home. Like I already said, I’m not having any of that. I need my life to be mine. I think he understands that. But I can tell it’s killing him to let me leave without him, even though he himself doesn’t travel with protection.

  Things are different now, different than just a week ago when he was visiting me. The public knows we are a couple. So far, that only means they know my name, that I’m from Knox’s hometown. But now, I won’t be able to go to the grocery store without seeing some picture of me and Knox on the cover of some rag magazine. If that’s the worst of it, I can live with it. I’m sure I’ll be old news soon. And they will go back to reporting on secret babies, affairs, and alien abductions.

  I hate saying goodbye to him. Goodbyes don’t usually bother me. I grew up saying them, but saying goodbye to Knox has never been easy.

  “I’m not going to cry. It would be stupid to cry,” I say, as Knox wipes my cheeks with his thumbs, grinning at me. The more time we spend together, the harder the time apart becomes.

  But it’s time for me to leave California, to go back home to my normal, simple life, and my anonymous radio show. That part, I’m looking forward to.

  “Ten days,” he says, looking over my shoulder at the private plane waiting to whisk me back to Haven’s Point.

  Knox didn’t want me to have to deal with LAX paparazzi again, so he arranged for me to fly home in style. I didn’t object this time. And I have to say, not having to remove my shoes or liquids to go through security is a perk.

  Knox and I were escorted back to a private room to wait until the plane’s ready. It’s pretty nice. No crowds, my own bathroom, no lugging my bags around. So this is the celebrity life? A girl could get used to this.

  “At the most, ten days,” he adds.

  I’m definitely not going to miss Los Angeles, but I am going to miss the man in front of me. Everything about him. His smile, waking up next to him, the way he looks at me. Everything.

  “Ten days,” I whisper back.

  His movie premiere, I’ll be back for that. It will be a last-minute decision whether I attend or not, but either way, I want to be here for him. Whether I’m on his arm walking down the red carpet or at his place waiting for him in bed, I want to support him.

  He’s very busy promoting the film until the premiere, but he promised to try and sneak in a trip to Haven’s Point. I don’t
want to add any more pressure, so at the longest, we will see each other in a week and a half.

  “I’ll be looking at your picture on my phone,” he teases. “You know the one.”

  I laugh, but bury my head in his chest as he runs his fingers through my hair and kisses the top of my head. We stand quietly for a few minutes, holding each other. I wonder what he’s thinking. I’m thinking I don’t want to let go.

  Finally, I look up. “I’m going to have to figure out how to do my show remotely.”

  He grins, but I see the worry in his eyes. “You talked to Gigi and Everly?”

  “Things are quiet in Haven’s Point,” I say.

  “You call me, day or night,” he says, “whenever you need me.”

  “I will.”

  “I wish you’d stay at Gigi’s,” he says.

  “Not going to happen.”

  “If you get scared staying alone . . .”

  “I’ll call you or go to Gigi’s,” I say.

  “Please be careful,” he says. “I have some crazy fans.”

  I roll my eyes. “They hate me for bagging you, so what?”

  “Bagging me,” he says, tickling me a little. “I think I bagged you.”

  Looking at the clock on the wall, I know I have to go. As it is, I’m going to have to go straight from the airport to the radio station.

  “Ms. Sheridan,” a cheerful voice says behind me. “We’re ready for you to board.” Knox intertwines his fingers with mine, heading toward the door. “I’m sorry, Mr. Merrick,” the woman says. “Only passengers are allowed on the tarmac.”

  He gives her a polite nod. But I can tell Knox wants one more minute, so I pull him to me, kissing him sweetly on the lips. Then I turn and follow her out the door toward the plane.

  A few tears roll down my cheeks. It feels silly to cry. It’s only ten days, but Gigi always says there are no silly tears, just ones that need to be shed. Promising myself I’ll only look back one time, I wait until I reach the top of the stairs of the plane.

  I make it to the top and turn around, but he’s not there. I thought I’d wave, blow him a kiss, like something out of a movie—our movie.

  But he’s not there. He just left.

  *

  I don’t care how short the flight is—flying always makes me tired. And I’m not one that can sleep on an airplane. So I’m not as peppy as I usually am before my show. It’s times like these I wish I liked the taste of coffee.

  Even though the press hasn’t put together that Mae Sheridan is Mother Superior, the higher ups at my station know about my relationship with Knox. For now, they are content to let things play out—which is the best I could hope for. I’m good business for them. They should just chill and be patient. No need to do anything rash at the moment. And I’m grateful for that, too.

  I could use a shower, but instead, I go straight from the plane to the station via a private car that Knox arranged. Amy sees me pulling my suitcase down the hallway of the station and opens the door for me. It looks like she’s been here for hours, and there are all kinds of papers scattered around. She looks like she’s ready to do the show for me.

  “I know you were busy,” Amy says, talking quickly. “So I jotted down some ideas for tonight’s show.”

  “That’s sweet,” I say. “But I had the flight to prepare.”

  “Oh,” she says. “Of course.”

  I didn’t mean to sound dismissive. It’s not that I don’t want to hear her ideas. It’s more that I don’t want to have to turn them down if they’re bad. Still, I like that she’s eager, and if no one had ever given me a shot, then who knows what I’d be doing. That’s a scary thought! What would I be doing if it wasn’t this? I hope I never have to find out.

  Anyway, I believe we have to pay it forward—especially women helping women. So I smile at Amy and say, “Let’s go to lunch this week and look at some of your ideas.”

  “Really?” she asks with a huge smile, and I give her a nod. “How was your trip? From the pictures all over the internet, it looked fantastic.”

  My smile fades. Amy knows me. Well, she knows me a little bit, and she’s still looking for information online. She’s curious. It’s no big deal. Still, it’s unnerving to think that people all over the world now know my name, care about my life, envy me, or hate me all because of a few photos. All because of the man I’m dating.

  “Things are good,” I say then make a quick switch of topics. “How’s the apartment search?”

  “Oh, fine,” Amy says, waving her hand dismissively. “Are you going to the premiere? Because this one entertainment channel is reporting that . . .”

  I managed not to listen to any of that while I was with Knox. I didn’t read one online report. But apparently, Amy read and watched them all.

  “There is this poll on Twitter about how long your relationship will last,” she says. “Want to know how I voted?”

  I laugh. “It better have been forever!”

  “Forever, huh? Sounds serious.”

  My smile says it all, but I don’t want to share too much. I don’t want to jinx anything, plus I’ve never been the kiss and tell type. I guess that’s good because I have to be even more careful about who I trust now. I don’t like feeling that way, especially among friends.

  Is that how Knox feels about people, even those close to him in his business and personal life? Like he never knows who to trust? Heath certainly thinks that way—he believes someone in my circle sold my flight information to the press. But that’s ridiculous. No one close to me would do that.

  After all, this isn’t just about me. It’s about Knox. I could accidentally say or do something that could make him look bad, cause horrible stories to be written, damage his career. That’s what Heath was explaining to me. I didn’t like what he was saying, and I definitely didn’t appreciate his tone, but I suppose he’s right.

  God, I’m tired. Rubbing my temples, I disappear into the booth. I’m giving myself a headache. Overthinking tends to do that.

  And I did that the whole flight home. I lied to Amy when I said I was working on show prep. Really, I spent most of the flight over-analyzing the last few days, including what it meant that Knox just left like that.

  Right now, I have a show to do, so my own neurosis will have to wait.

  *

  “Mother Superior,” a female caller starts, “I’ve never called before.”

  “A blessed virgin,” I say with a laugh.

  Probably burning in hell for that little comment.

  “In more ways than one,” she says.

  Of course, sex gets brought up quite often on my show. It’s a natural part of any romantic relationship.

  “If you’ve listened long enough, you know my position on this. If he’s pressuring you, then he’s not the one.”

  “He’s not,” she says. “But I know he wants to.”

  “And what do you want?”

  “I’m twenty-five,” she says. “I’ve waited a long time.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” I say. “I’ve talked to thousands of women on this show. In all those calls, I’ve never had a woman call and say she wished she’d had sex with a man. But I’ve had plenty call and say she wished she hadn’t.”

  “I’ve never thought about it like that,” she says. “Thank you.”

  She hangs up, and I send the show to commercial break. This is a shorter one, not the longer one that happens on the hour. It’s not enough time for me to go to the bathroom or anything, just long enough for me to take a deep breath.

  I’m still bothered by how Knox left me at the airport. Normally, I’d bring something like this up on the show: Has your man ever not waved goodbye to you at the airport? Just disappeared into thin air? How did that make you feel? Confused? Like shit?

  It’s my job to raise these kinds of topics, but I said I wouldn’t discuss Knox on-air. And I don’t want to talk about my situation, either—he might be listening and call in out of the blue! I don’t need tha
t right now. Still, I need to get this off my chest. Amy points at me, indicating that we are back on the air, and I decide to go for it—but to change the story up a little, so the feeling is the same, but the circumstances are different.

  “I’d like to know how you feel about something. Let’s say you have a long-distance relationship, and you fly out to see your boyfriend. Keep in mind this is a new relationship, you haven’t been married for years. Would you expect him to park and walk in to pick you up? Or would him picking you up at the curb be okay with you?”

  The phone lines light up like a Christmas tree. I can see Amy struggling to keep up. Apparently, I’ve touched on a hot button issue.

  Some callers say it’s more practical to wait at the curb or just drop off—airport parking can be expensive, too. Others say there is something inherently romantic about rendezvousing at the airport and wanting to spend each possible second together. I guess I fall into the hopeless romantic category. By the time the show ends, I think I’ve started a war of the sexes. The women overwhelmingly wanted their man to escort them in and out, and the men didn’t care one way or another. Was Knox leaving the way he did simply part of his male DNA?

  It’s late when I wrap the show, and I just want to get out of here. I’m anxious to get home, shower, get in my bed, and dream about Knox. I quickly make my way out of the station, and find another car service waiting for me. I insisted that I could have Everly pick me up, or even take an Uber back to Haven’s Point, but he wouldn’t hear of it. When I think back on how generous and considerate he’s been, it’s possible I read way too much into the whole airport non-goodbye. Things are obviously fine with Knox. The man is devoted to me.

  “Fancy?” Amy says, stepping out of the door behind me.

  I force a smile and keep walking. But I find myself triggered again, the trust issues rushing back. I can’t help it. Knox and Heath planted the seed in my head. Someone had to give my flight information to the press, and I am supremely confident it was not Gigi or Everly. That leaves Amy, and I’m tempted to say something.