The Truth About Lennon

by K. L. Grayson

  “Took you long enough, Cunningham,” she says, eyeing the bag in my hand. “I’m guessing you’ve pulled your head from your ass and now you need to find Lennon.”

  “Mikey seems to think you can help me.”

  Charlotte purses her lips, watching me as though she’s trying to decide if she wants to help or kick me out.

  “I made a huge mistake, Charlotte—biggest mistake of my life. I didn’t believe Lennon, and I should have, and I need to get to her. Can you help me?”

  A smile breaks over her stoic face. “She told you about her charity, right? Children Everywhere?”

  I nod. “Yes…”

  “This weekend is the Children Everywhere ball.”

  Shit, we talked about going to that together once.

  “And I have two tickets,” Charlotte adds.

  In one motion, I step up to Charlotte’s desk and drop more than fifty pink Starbursts in front of her.

  Her eyes grow wide. “I would’ve given them to you regardless,” she says, picking up a pink square. “But this is appreciated.”

  I shoot Mikey a glare, but he just shrugs.

  “Give me the damn tickets.”

  Charlotte pops a Starburst in her mouth, reaches into the front drawer of her desk, and slaps the tickets into my hand. “Fuck this up, and I’ll fuck you up.”

  I smooth my hands down the front of my dress and take a deep breath. This is it. I’ve worked endlessly over the years to get Children Everywhere off of the ground, and tonight is a reminder of how much good we can do.

  I’ve needed to keep busy, so I’ve spent the last weeks working on designs, sending them off to some of my contacts in the fashion industry, and I’ve finalized every last detail for tonight. I can’t wait to see how everything turns out. I’ll admit that this event came at the perfect time. Going around the city with Jane, my assistant, to pick out centerpieces and tablecloths and sample the food choices has kept me occupied. When I’m knees deep in details and seating charts, I’m able to stop thinking about Noah.

  It’s been in the evenings, when I draw a warm, hot bath and try to relax, that he invades every last spot in my head. But I’ve thought about it a lot over the last few days, and I’ve come to realize Noah was right. Regardless of whether he believes me about the drugs or not, I’m not a good fit for him and Nova’s life.

  There’s a soft knock on the door, and Brenna peeks her head around. “Can I come in?”

  I see her reflection through the mirror. She looks as gorgeous as ever in her black, floor-length, strapless gown, but there’s something off about her, something in her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Well, that depends. Are we okay?”

  Dropping my blush in my makeup bag, I fold my arms over my chest and turn toward her. “You want the truth?”

  She blinks twice. “Of course. You’ve been home for three weeks, and you’ve barely said two words to me.”

  “You hurt me, Brenna.”

  It was Brenna who suggested to my dad that I get out of town, and when my dad gets an idea in his head, he doesn’t let it go. It’s not lost on me that had I not gone to Heaven, I wouldn’t have met Noah, but I’m still pissed at her.

  “You took it upon yourself to tell my father what’s best for me,” I say. “I’m a grown woman, fully capable of making my own mistakes, cleaning them up, and deciding how to live with myself. I don’t need you—or anyone else for that matter—making decisions about my life for me.”

  That’s exactly what Noah did. He took my choice away. He decided what was best for both of us when he chose not to believe me. But maybe that’s what I needed from him. Being back in New York, working on the charity auction, and fielding calls from my parents and Mathis and the press has made me realize that no matter what my heart wants, my life is too messy for Nova and Noah.

  “I know—”

  “We were friends first, and I realize it’s your job to look out for my dad when it comes to his reputation and the media, but I am not included in that package.”

  “Leni—”

  “So next time you get some crazy idea in your head that involves me, just forget about it. I allowed my father to dictate how to handle the media this last time, but I assure you he will not dictate how I handle things moving forward, and if you don’t like that then…then…suck it!”

  Fists planted on her hips, Brenna cocks a brow. “Are you done?”

  I nod. “I think so.”

  “Good. Because I came to tell you I’m sorry, and you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m—wait, what?”

  Brenna sighs, her arms falling limply at her sides. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have interfered. I love working for your dad. It’s my dream job, but you and I are friends, and I need to do better at separating the two.”

  “Right.” I nod. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  She grins. “Am I forgiven?”

  I can forgive her—that part is easy. But I can’t forget the way she treated me.

  “Of course I forgive you,” I say, pulling her in for a hug.

  “Don’t mess up my hair,” she says. “Took a team of people to make me look this good.”

  “Oh, shut up.” I roll my eyes. “You crawl out of bed looking gorgeous. Me, on the other hand, I could use your team. Where are they?” I ask jokingly.

  “You don’t need a team,” she whispers, tugging at a strand of my hair. “You’re beautiful the way you are.”

  “Thank you.” I turn toward the mirror, taking one last look at myself.

  I decided against my usual team for this event, because the big fancy coiffure and airbrushed makeup just isn’t me. Instead, I did it myself. Beachy waves on my shoulder-length hair, enough makeup to disguise the pale look of my skin—a stark reminder of my lack of sleep—a hint of mascara, and voila. I’m good to go. Minus the heartbreak I’m always trying to hide.

  I would give anything to have Noah here with me tonight, but I know that’s not going to happen, and it’s for the best.

  “I love that dress. Is it a Barrick-St. James original?”

  Looking down, I smooth my hands over the pale yellow chiffon. It has a simple plunging V neck with a wide empire waist and a slit straight up the front, stopping midthigh.

  The slit was for Noah, so he could slide his hand up my leg under the table as I desperately tried not to scream in front of a dozen or so charity donors. And then later, after Nova was asleep, I’d have him pin me against the window of our hotel suite and make slow, sweet love to me. And I wouldn’t care at all that anyone on the streets below could see, because I would only be able to concentrate on one thing: Noah’s mouth as it—

  No. I can’t keep torturing myself like this.

  I thought every day it would get easier, that I’d eventually stop thinking about him every single second, but I was wrong. If anything, it’s gotten harder. Noah is the first thing I think about when I get up, and I fall asleep every night with visions of him in my head. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll never meet another man like him, and at this rate, I’ll still be pining for him when I’m old and gray.

  It took me two fucking weeks to fall in love with him. Why can’t it take just that long to fall out of love with him?

  But none of that matters. My feelings don’t matter because I want what’s best for Noah and Nova, and that’s clearly not me. My life will probably only get crazier once my dad and Mr. Morgan win the election. I’ve done a good job at staying out of the media, until recently of course, but it’s going to become increasingly more difficult. My past would be thrown in Noah’s face over and over again, and that’s not fair to him.

  “Lennon.”

  Brenna touches my flushed skin, and I shake my head. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Just spaced out there for a second. What was your question?”

  “I asked if you made your dress.”

  I scoff. “Of course I did.”

  “It’s a beautiful color.”

>   I smile to myself, picturing Nova in her yellow dress as she twirls around her house…that is if she even got the dress. The look on Noah’s face that day was anything but happy, and as much as I hate to believe he would keep it from her, I just can’t be certain.

  And if that isn’t a punch to the gut, I don’t know what is.

  Tears burn my nostrils, and I break eye contact with Brenna to keep myself from crying. Lowering my head, I remind myself what tonight is all about. I’ve worked damn hard to make Children Everywhere a success, and it deserves my undivided attention. I need to hold my shit together, make it through the night.

  “Want to talk about it?” Brenna asks.

  “Not really, no.” I sniff.

  Brenna snags a Kleenex off the sink and hands it to me. “He’s very handsome,” she says, garnering my full attention. “And his daughter is beautiful. I can see why you would be drawn to them.”

  Bringing the Kleenex to my face, I blow my nose and the stare at Brenna. “Let me guess, my mom told you about him?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Mathis?”

  Solemnly, she shakes her head again, and this time she pulls out her cell. “Have you been paying attention to the news at all?” she asks, flipping through something on her phone.

  “Forgive me if I shy away. The media hasn’t exactly been my friend lately.”

  “Well, they haven’t exactly been Noah’s friend either,” she says, offering me her phone.

  On the screen is a picture of Noah getting into his car, followed by several more pictures of him. I scroll down. There are photos of him walking in and out of work and others of him with Mikey, but it’s the picture of him holding Nova, shielding her from the cameras, that causes dread to settle low in my gut.

  “What is this?” I cry, shoving the phone back at her. “Are they harassing him and Nova? Why didn’t someone tell me this sooner? He must think I’m a bitch for not doing something about it.”

  Brenna blocks my path when I go to step around her. “First,” she says, “you can’t control where the paparazzi go. Second, Noah has handled himself surprisingly well. Lastly, I’ve already taken care of it.”

  “What do you mean, you took care of it?”

  “It looks like a lot of pictures, but it’s really not. It was mostly just local media trying to get info on you, which he hasn’t given, in case you were wondering. Noah has been tight-lipped about everything. I made a few calls, and let’s just say things have died down.”

  Okay, that was vague. “What do you mean, they’ve died down? What did you do?”

  “Leni, in case you forgot, your father is a very powerful man. Don’t worry about what I did.” Brenna stuffs her phone in her clutch and leans over the sink, checking her reflection in the mirror. When she stands up she asks, “Can I be honest with you for a second?”

  “I expect nothing less.”

  Her face softens, and she smiles. Grabbing my hand, she leads me out of the bathroom and guides me to the edge of my bed. “It’s probably for the best,” she says, sitting down next to me.

  “What is?”

  “What happened with you and Noah. I’m sure the breakup has been hard on you, but it’s for the best.”

  I don’t know why this is any of her business. But as I stare at her quizzically, she continues. “You and Noah live two incredibly different lives. Your father is likely going to move into the White House, and your mother lives in a house that’s bigger than the White House.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I scoff. “You think I don’t realize that all of this—my life—would inevitably be difficult for Noah and Nova?”

  Brenna looks at me, head cocked to the side, lips pressed together as though she doesn’t know what to say.

  “This is my life, Brenna. I’ve been the one to live it, not you. I’m well aware that I’m a Barrick-St. James, and the media will follow me wherever I go. I know my name guarantees that I’ll never be rid of them.”

  And what kind of life is that for a kid? I remember how hard it was growing up in that world, how hard it was to fly under the radar. I don’t want that for Nova. Especially with her mother’s past. The image of Noah shielding Nova from the cameras rolls through my head. I don’t want that for him, or her. That’s the kind of life I was running from, but it doesn’t seem to matter how far or fast I run; that’s the life I was born in to and the life I seem destined to have.

  As much as I hate the thought of Noah and Nova moving on, having a life without me, it’s a thought I need to get to used to.

  Clearing my throat, I meet Brenna’s gaze. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you. I appreciate you helping Noah out with the media, but moving forward, I want you to butt out. No more running interference. I’m done.”

  “Leni.” Brenna places a hand on my arm, but I shrug her off and stand.

  “Can you give me a minute?” I step back to the mirror, grab my earrings from the dresser, and put them on. “I need to finish getting myself together for tonight.”

  Brenna walks toward the door and looks back at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Brenna. Really. Now, if you don’t mind.”

  The look on her face tells me she doesn’t want to leave, but when I raise my eyebrows, she steps out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

  I look up at the light, trying desperately to keep my tears in because I need to hold myself together. I have a speech to give and people to interact with, and they deserve my very best. I take several deep breaths and eventually regain my composure. Then I find my phone and shoot Charlotte a quick text.

  Me: I love you, Char. You’re my best friend.

  Her response is instant.

  Charlotte: You better not be crying.

  Charlotte: And the feeling is mutual.

  I’m sad she couldn’t make it tonight, but I understand. The flight here was way too expensive, and her stubborn ass refused to let me pay for it.

  Me: Is it bad that I already wish tonight was over and it hasn’t even started?

  Charlotte: I have a feeling tonight is going to be epic ; )

  Me: You’ve been eating too many pink Starbursts again.

  Charlotte: *gasp* NEVER!

  Me: Goodnight

  Charlotte: Call me first thing in the morning and tell me all about it!

  Me: Will do.

  Tucking my phone in my bag, I give myself one last onceover in the mirror. With a Kleenex, I lightly dab my eyes, searching the dredges of my soul for any remaining strength. I smile and straighten my spine. I might not look like I’m falling apart on the outside, but inside I know Noah is gone from my life forever, and that makes even the good things I have left seem hollow.

  “Wow,” I say, smiling at the sea of faces. “We’ve got a beautiful crowd of people with us tonight. I want to start by thanking each one of you for coming out to support Children Everywhere. It warms my heart to know you love this organization as much as I do. You’ve opened your hearts and your wallets, and I’m proud to announce that we’ve blown last year’s donations out of the water.”

  The crowd erupts in applause, and I smile back at them.

  “Every penny raised here tonight will go directly toward assisting young men and women. Your kindness doesn’t go unappreciated, and you should rest easy knowing that your donations will help fund much-needed education. They will give our at-risk youth a chance to thrive. Tonight, because of you, we’ve raised over two million dollars!”

  The crowd erupts again, and everyone jumps to their feet. I step away from the podium to applaud them, because I’m not the one who did all of this. Sure, I put it together, but if it weren’t for their giving spirit, none of this would be possible.

  “Thank you,” I say, stepping back up to the podium. “Thank you for coming out and for all of your generosity. The band will be here for the next hour, so please, dance and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  I step off the stage and make my way thr
ough the room, personally thanking some of our biggest sponsors and supporters. As the crowd dissipates, I move toward the bar. I’ve played hostess for four hours. My feet are killing me, and I’m in desperate need of a glass of wine.

  I’m standing at the bar, talking to the bartender about what a great turnout we had, when my mother steps up beside me.

  “Mathis called me,” she announces.

  When the bartender hands me my glass, I finish off most of its contents in one gulp. There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to prepare me for this conversation.

  “Did he now?” I ask, turning toward her.

  My father appears behind her, placing a hand on her hip. “Leni. Amazing event tonight,” he tells me, his eyes scanning the room, no doubt looking for the quickest exit. He balked at coming, said it would be a pain in the ass with all of the security he’d have to bring.

  “I certainly can’t complain,” I respond, returning my glass to the bartender for a refill.

  “I’m sure you could’ve managed to find one more seat,” my mother says haughtily.

  Taking my glass and stepping away from the bar, I drop my voice, ensuring that my words are delivered to no one other than my parents. “Mathis Perry will never be invited again. He will never be a part of my life again. Remember that.”

  “You say that now, but—”

  “No, Mother,” I growl.

  She casts a glance to the left, and I quickly look around to make sure no one heard me. There aren’t a ton of people still here, but I don’t want to take any chances.

  “Whatever it is you’re about to say, forget it,” I whisper. “I will not take him back. I won’t even be cordial when I see him. He’s nothing to me.”

  Her eyes grow wide, shooting daggers. “You will be cordial to him—”

  “Why should I?” I hiss. “What has he done to earn my respect?”

  My father seems completely oblivious to our argument, his attention drawn to something else in the room.

  “Why should you? How about because his father has been a huge source of support for your father’s campaign,” she sneers, shaking her head. “If he pulls his contribution, your father and Joseph could lose the election. Is that what you want?” she asks.