by Emma Roberts
My heart was pounding in my ears. My entire body felt like it was rooted to the earth, stuck, trapped.
"So I called the studio that was doing the interview with him and Kari, you know," he continued, "and I let them know what they were dealing with."
It took everything I had in me not to turn around, grab that little fucker by the collar, and drag him out of the building so that we could see once and for all who would have won in a fight between us. But I knew that wasn’t how I should deal with this.
My head was spinning as I tried to make sense of what I was hearing from him. He carried on talking, on a roll now, apparently proud of everything he had done and happy to go on about it at length.
"And I wasn’t sure if the studio was going to ask him about it on air like that," he continued. "But they did. And, well, you only had to see his reaction to know what the truth was...seriously, thank God for the source who gave me that. I would have been screwed if it had come out any other way. At least we got to stay in control of the narrative, right?”
"Right," the woman replied finally, but her voice was laced with discomfort. As well it should be. In what world was this even remotely the kind of thing that people did to one another? I racked my brains to think of who could have blown my cover. It had to have been one of my family members. Or had it already spread out through the industry? My parents had been determined that I wasn’t going to get help for this, but that didn’t mean that they had kept it strictly between themselves. That thought made the ground feel as though it was shifting out from underneath me. All this time, I had assumed that no matter how awful my own mother had gotten, at least she had kept that secret for me. Now, at least, I knew that those beliefs had been a delusion on my part.
"Anyway, we need to get back to business," Adam finished up, almost cheerfully. I seriously considered stepping out and letting him see me standing there, but I didn’t want to confront him right now. No, there was something much more important that I needed to take care of before I thought about kicking the living daylights out of him. And that was Kari.
I had been wrong. I had been so sure that she had been the one to expose all of this to the real world, but it had been her asshole of an ex instead. How could I have let myself believe that it was her? She was good, in a way that nobody else in my life had ever been. She had been solid and kind and good to me, and I had accused her of the worst thing she could possibly have done. What the hell had I been thinking? I wanted to turn back time and undo it all, to go back to her and plead for her forgiveness. I needed to tell her that I understood now and that everything was going to be different.
But I had a bad feeling it was too late for that. When I had pushed her away, I had done it to make sure she would never come back. With every minute that had ticked away since then, she had believed that I had rejected her over nothing.
I grabbed my phone and pulled it from my pocket, but I didn’t have a signal. Shit. I grimaced. I needed to get in touch with her, and I needed to do it now, before time ran out and I lost her for good. I was the one who had been an insensitive bastard, not her, and she deserved an apology from me.
If that would even be enough. I pressed my fingers to my forehead and wondered if she could ever forgive me. If I could ever forgive myself for what I had done.
22
Kari
"Hey, guys," I called out to the kids as they pelted through the house, leaving a chaotic mess in their wake. The place always looked a little wilder than usual on Christmas, since Sammy and Olivia insisted on decorating until the entire house was dripping with glitter and tinsel and cheesy ornaments.
"It’s alright," Clara soothed me, reaching over to pat my hand. "They’re just messing around; they’ll tire themselves out in a minute."
"I guess you’re right," I agreed.
"It’s Christmas," she reminded me. "If there’s one time of year when you’re not going to get the kids to do everything you want, it’s this one."
"Yeah, I know," I conceded. And I knew that she was right. It was Christmas day, and I needed to give my kids the space to run and play and be themselves because they were high on chocolate and sweets and the thrill of receiving their gifts. Sometimes, I forgot that I had to let go of keeping everything in control and just let the children be children for a while. But that was what Clara was here for – to remind me to unwind and let go a little bit.
"You having a good day?” she asked gently, and I managed to smile at her.
"Yeah, I am," I replied. "I’m having a really good day. Thanks so much for coming over and keeping us company."
"Hey, my family are all back across the country. I think you’re the one keeping me company," she pointed out. I slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. I was so glad to have her here.
"You know you’re family to us," I replied, and she laughed.
"Don’t be getting all soppy on me now. We haven’t even gotten started on the wine yet," she teased, but before I could respond, my gaze was drawn to the television. There was someone on it that I recognized. And the very last person I wanted to see right about now.
"Shit," Clara muttered, and she went to switch it off, but I held my hand up.
"No, I want to see this," I assured her. "I have to make sure that the event went smoothly, you know?”
"Are you sure?” she asked, giving me a hard look. She must have known that I was playing with fire here, and pointlessly so. I had done such a good job of getting Morgan out of my head over the last couple of weeks – the last thing I needed was to watch him work an event that I was supposed to have attended.
But as soon as I saw him on screen, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to look away. He still had that peculiar draw over me. I felt a little pang when I saw that he was in the cabin, the very same cabin that we had first connected in. For some, stupid reason, there was a part of me that felt as though it should have been kept for just the two of us, closed down as a shrine to whatever the hell it was we had shared, even if it was over.
"It looks as though it’s going well," Clara remarked, trying to keep her voice upbeat. I nodded. It actually did – the kids looked delighted, and Morgan seemed to be keeping his shit together.
"I thought he would be breaking out in hives, being around all of those children," I admitted. "Didn’t think he had it in him."
"Well, he does," Clara replied, and she smiled as she watched one of the kids give him a hug. "Aw, that’s sweet."
"Still, I thought he’d have found some way to back out of this," I admitted. "He’s never liked kids."
"You look at his face and tell me that dude doesn’t like children," she replied, pointing at the screen. "He’s just a little gun shy, that’s all. He’s good with them. Great with them, actually."
"You’re not exactly making this any easier on me," I remarked. She glanced over to me and offered an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that," she replied, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
"You’re fine without him," she assured me, and I nodded.
"Yeah, I know I am," I replied. Though I wasn’t sure I believed it.
The rest of Christmas day passed quietly and quickly, and I was able to distract myself with making dinner and cleaning up wrapping paper for most of the evening. It had been a good day, the kind of day that reminded me just how special our little family was, but I couldn’t help but linger on the thought that it would have been a hell of a lot more special if Morgan had been there to share it with us.
Which was crazy because Morgan wanted nothing to do with me now. The way he had reacted when we were walking out of that interview, I had never seen him like that before. That was the moment when I had understood where all of those whispers about his reputation had come from. He’d been angry, snapping out at me and everyone else around him. I understood why – he had just been exposed in the worst way possible, after all – but he wouldn’t even stop to listen to me tell him that this hadn’t b
een my doing. I couldn’t convince him of anything other than my own involvement in all of this.
So when I started hearing from him again after the charity event, I was surprised. More than surprised. I had assumed he would never want to speak to me again after what he’d thought I had done to him. And frankly, after the way he had acted after that interview, I didn’t have much interest in hearing from him either. What would he do, just tear into me again? I had better things to do than to listen to that. So when I started receiving calls and messages from him after Christmas, I assumed he was just trying to tell me off all over again, and I decided to ignore them. Allowing him any more space in my brain was just going to end in tears. As though I hadn’t shed enough of those already.
I needed to move on from this man, once and for all. No matter how often I thought about him. No matter how many times he crossed my mind when I was lying in bed at night. Whatever we’d had, it just hadn’t worked out the way I had wanted it to. And was I really surprised about that? He was a movie star, and I was a single mom just trying to keep my charity afloat. For both of us, what we had shared had been an escape from our normal lives, not a step away from our reality.
Still, in those odd few days that floated about after Christmas and before the New Year, I thought about him all of the time. The event had been a success, and people were already writing glowing profiles about his charity work and his decency and how much he had changed. The roles he had wanted would come rolling in soon enough. And I had gotten what I wanted – the business was booming. The charity was receiving calls around the clock about what we needed and whether we had enough volunteers and where we took our donations in. We had both won. So why did it feel like I had lost everything?
A couple of days before the New Year, I got a call from my cousin, Tiffany. She and I had never been close – mainly because our lives were just so completely different – but she was sweet enough, and I was frankly glad to have contact with anyone outside the little bubble of the charity.
"Kari!” she exclaimed as soon as I picked up. "Girl, it’s been too long. How are you? How’s it going?”
"Yeah, it’s – I’m fine, it’s going well," I replied. "How about the two of you?”
"Well, we actually just got back to the U.S.," she replied. I felt a swell of envy in my chest. Tiffany was married to a rich, famous plastic surgeon, and the two of them always seemed to be off on some glamorous vacation. It was the sort of thing I might be bitter about, if I had the time or energy to give it much thought.
"And we’re throwing a big party for New Year’s," she continued. "Not far from you. I wanted to see if you fancied coming along?”
"Uh..."
"We’ll cover a babysitter for you," she replied smoothly. "Come on out, Kari. Please. It’ll be fun."
"You know what? Alright," I agreed, rubbing my hand over my forehead. "I’ll come. Just text me all the details.”
"Yay! Oh, that’s awesome," she gushed. "I will. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
"See you soon, Tiffany," I replied, and I hung up the phone. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but I could use a chance to blow off some steam. After everything that had happened with Morgan, I needed to start over. A new year, a new me. That was how it worked, right? And if I went to this fancy-ass party, then maybe I could find someone to help me get over the man I couldn’t get out of my head. They always said the best way to get over someone was to get under somebody else. And that’s what I needed.
Tiffany, true to her word, got a babysitter for me. I kissed the kids goodbye and hopped in a taxi out to the enormous venue that they had booked for their party. Tiffany always knew how to throw one hell of an event – nobody could argue with that – and this party was no exception: they had hired an enormous ballroom in a fancy hotel, filled it with booze and food and a band, and invited a couple hundred of only their closest friends. As I walked into the room, I couldn’t help but laugh. This was so far removed from anything I had ever experienced, but I loved it.
The music that filled the room was an old-fashioned swing number, and the whole place felt like it had been plucked out of some twenties flapper dream. A waitress approached me, one hand behind her back and the other balancing a tray of drinks on splayed fingers.
"Champagne, madam? Or non-alcoholic sparkling cider?” she asked. I nodded, plucking one of the proffered glasses and taking a sip.
"Thank you," I replied, and she wandered off – but I wasn’t alone for long.
"Kari!”
A voice I recognized drew my attention, and I glanced around to see Tiffany navigating through the crowd toward me. She looked as impeccable as ever, her long blonde hair flowing down her back in beachy waves and her black sheath dress hugging every curve of her slender body. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed.
"So glad you could make it," she murmured into my ear. I squeezed her back.
"Me too," I replied. And I meant it. I was grateful that she’d even thought to invite me. She might be living the craziest lifestyle I could imagine, but she still had time for me, and that was the most precious thing in the world.
"So good to see you here, Kari," her husband, Archer, remarked as he approached and we unwound from one another.
"Well, thank you so much for inviting me," I replied. He and Tiffany exchanged grins, as though there was a secret they were keeping just between the two of them. I cocked an eyebrow.
"Something I should know?” I asked.
"I think there’s someone here who was hoping to see you," Tiffany replied, and I furrowed my brow.
"Like who?”
"Like me."
I turned around, and my jaw dropped when I saw the man standing behind me. Dressed in a tuxedo, his hair freshly cut and his face clean-shaven, he looked like a dream – but to me, Morgan was a nightmare.
There was no way it could be him. My hand flew to my belly, and I clutched it, as though seeing the father of my unborn child had sent a jolt through my system. My vision blurred, and I turned to walk away, my legs trembling dangerously underneath me as I did so.
It couldn’t be Morgan. He just couldn’t be here. I wouldn’t allow it. I was supposed to be here to blow off some steam, not to be reminded of the one man I was trying to avoid above all else. How had he found me? It didn’t make sense. My head was spinning.
"Kari, Kari," Tiffany called out after me as I walked away from them. I shook my head and then looked over at her.
"What the hell is he doing here?" I demanded. She smiled gently.
"He knows Archer through his work," she explained. I raised my eyebrows.
"Morgan had work done?”
"No, no," she replied. "But a lot of people he works with have. They’ve run into each other a few times, and we sent him an invitation, and I guess he must have figured out that we were cousins and that you might be here..."
"Is that why you invited me?” I demanded. "Just to set me up with him?”
"No, of course not," she assured me. "We wanted you here. But then Morgan told us what happened between you, and we thought that maybe we could play Cupid..."
"Maybe you shouldn’t have bothered," I snapped back. I was being harsh with her, but I felt off-balance, like my whole body had been flipped sideways.
"You should talk to him," she told me firmly. I hadn’t taken Tiffany for the type who would take a stand, but there was a certainty to her voice that told me this wasn’t in any way up for debate. I was a little taken aback.
"Why?”
"Because I think that things are different now," she replied. "Give him a chance, seriously. I think you’ll be surprised."
I turned around and looked over at where Morgan was standing, watching me from afar. His eyes were hopeful, and I felt something give inside of me. I should have shot him down, shot this down, told anyone who was listening that this wasn’t where I wanted to be. But I couldn’t. This was still the man I was sure that I had loved until just a few weeks before. Surely, I owed him the chance
to make things right, didn’t I?
"Alright," I muttered, waving him over to me.
"But if I end up getting hurt, I’m going to hold you personally responsible," I warned Tiffany, only half-joking. She held her hands up.
"Go ahead," she replied. "But I don’t think it’s going to come to that."
23
Morgan
"Kari," I murmured her name as I approached her, and she hit me with a hard look and crossed her arms defensively over her chest.
"Can I help you with something?”
"Kari, I have to tell you that I’m sorry," I blurted out, not bothering to hold back a moment longer – I had been praying that I would get the chance to see her again, and now that the chance was here in front of me, I wasn’t going to let myself falter.
"Is that why you’ve been calling me recently?” she demanded. She was still standing a few feet away from me, the distance deliberate and pointed. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms, hold her close, and remind her of how much sense we made together, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she’d heard what I had to say.
"Yes, Kari," I replied. "I...I heard something. At the event."
"What are you talking about?” she asked, but her eyes were suddenly wide, as though she was nervous at the thought of whatever I might have come across.
"I heard your ex," I told her. "I heard him talking to his girlfriend, and the two of them were talking about how he was the one who leaked the information to the studio. You know, about the...the stuff."
Her jaw dropped.
"Adam did that?” she gasped. She seemed about as shocked as I had been when I’d found out the truth, too.