Addie
As I walk back to my hotel room, I’m met by the familiar eyes of my father. I don’t remember him being so manipulative. Cold. Calculating. Honestly, I just remember him being mostly emotionless. Distant. As if being in our lives was somehow a burden.
“Good morning, Addie. Where’s your handler? I thought he would be glued to your side.” He laughs. It’s forced and a little creepy.
“What do you want?” My voice is hard.
“We have already established what I want, Addie—a little bonding with my children. I bet Owen would love that. He would probably like to get to know me.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
My skin sizzles. Without even turning around, I know that Jameson is behind me. His protectiveness is palpable. He’s like a ninja, which is both comforting and freaky. Ultimately, I’m glad we’re staying in the same hotel.
“Mr. Snyder, I think you need to leave.” His stare is cold.
My father holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course! We’ll have plenty of time to hash out the details. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll find you again at a better time.”
He turns on his heel and retreats. I exhale while looking through my purse for a piece of chocolate. Jameson hands me a piece. I look up and realize that he has his own stash for me. Oh. My. God. That is possibly the sweetest thing, no pun intended, that anyone has ever done. And while I contemplate this very kind gesture, something shifts. I turn and meet Jameson’s eyes. Before I can say anything, he pulls me against his hard, muscular chest, his hands firmly on my hips, and kisses me. Did you hear me? He is kissing me! As in panty-melting, lost-in-an-alternate-reality kind of kiss. My lady bits are singing the “Hallelujah” chorus in fucking harmony, people. They even master the high notes, which are a bitch. That is how mind-blowing this kiss is, and then before I can fully enjoy the moment, he pulls away. He fucking pulls away, and I instantly miss his touch. And his tongue. Shit.
“I shouldn’t have done that. That was completely unprofessional.” He rubs his hand over his ridiculously handsome face. We stare at each other.
At this point, I should be saying something. But my tongue, lips, and lady parts are still celebrating. Before I can formulate something coherent, he walks away. What the fuck is the deal with every man in my life simply walking away before I can say anything?
Addie
As I’m still recovering from the lip assault that Jameson inflicted on me, my phone rings. Of course, it’s Dorothy. Like a moth to a flame, she thrives on anything chaotic or dramatic. I am sure that she’s calling in regard to my sperm donor. I might as well answer, or she will continue to call.
“Hey, Dorothy. What’s up?” I try to sound perky, but I’m a writer, not an actress. In the end, I sound flat. Again.
“Oh, Addie! I am calling to check on you! I just read about the reemergence of your father. How are you doing?” She sounds empathetic, which scares the shit out of me.
“I am okay. I appreciate you checking on me, but there’s no reason to worry. Jameson and Nina are taking care of managing the press. I’m just still processing it all.”
“Oh, I can only imagine how surprising that was to see him after all of these years. But that isn’t the only reason I called. I want to apologize for Matthew and how awful he was to you when he came to your apartment.”
I swear the universe is drunk. What is happening?
“Dorothy, that isn’t necessary. It isn’t the first time that he has been upset with me. I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
Is hell freezing over? When has Dorothy EVER apologized? It makes me extremely uncomfortable, but maybe she is sincere. Who am I kidding? This is just another farce.
“Addie, did you hear me?” She jolts me out of my state of confusion.
“Sorry, Dorothy. I have a lot on my mind this morning. What did you say?”
“I just said that we wouldn’t be bothering you for money anymore. We are so grateful for your help all of these years, but it’s time that we stand on our own feet.”
“Wow, Dorothy, that is great and extremely unexpected.”
“I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but we’re trying. My psychic business is finally taking off, and I’m confident that it will continue to grow. If you ever want a reading, I’ll do yours for free.”
“That is so generous but completely unnecessary. I appreciate the offer, though.” I feel like Ashton Kutcher will jump out any moment and tell me I’ve been punked. Plus, while I believe in people being intuitive, Dorothy is not that person. She’s just a con artist. Unfortunately, there will be people who pay for her bullshit, sucked into her conniving ways. She is a master manipulator, so maybe that is her skill.
“Well, the offer is always there. I could probably give you some insight into this situation with your father.” She sounds a bit giddy.
“Oh, Dorothy, I have to go. Someone is at my door. Thank you for calling and good luck with your business.”
“Of course, Addie. We are here for you. Call me if you need
anything.”
We disconnect, and I have no idea how to process that call. And don’t get me started on that kiss. I can still feel Jameson’s lips. Does Amazon sell straitjackets? I feel like I’m going to need one.
Jameson
That was not my best moment. Let me clarify. Not to boast, but I am an excellent kisser. And the kiss was amazing. It felt right. However, I should not be tongue tangoing with my client. It is the old mantra, “don’t eat where you shit.” Jesus. One minute I’m seething at her father’s presence, and the next, my tongue is down her throat. I liked it. A lot. She was so soft, eager, willing—and then like the asshole that I am, I walk away.
I sit at the bar swirling amber liquor in my glass. Yes, it might be a touch early for liquor, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Lost in my thoughts, I almost miss the sound of my ringing phone.
“Grady, have anything useful for me?” I ask.
“Well, I do know that the illustrious Mr. Snyder has been in contact with Addie’s cousin’s wife, Dorothy.”
“Interesting. Do you know why?”
“My sources have photos of them meeting on several occasions. I’ll keep my guys on them, and hopefully, we can uncover the answers. With Dorothy’s financial issues, I would guess it’s for monetary gain, but I can’t find a money trail yet. I also noticed that he, too, is at the height of his own financial crisis, so I’m looking into a possible third party. I’ll be in touch.” We end the call.
Well, now that delightful amber liquor tastes like bile. It looks like Dorothy might be the ringmaster of the circus that has come to town.
Addie
I’m not going to lie. Jameson’s kiss became the inspiration for my solo pleasuring-myself performance. Don’t pretend you haven’t done it, too. My vagina is so underused that it should have a sign that reads “closed indefinitely.” It isn’t as though I haven’t had encounters. God, that sounds so…uninspired, a word that describes my sex life to a T. Okay, let’s focus. I’m packing for our next stop, where I will finally get to see Owen. Just having him with me will ease the anxiety. I open the door and wrestle my suitcase into cooperation. I may have lost a wheel in the process. Poor Hello Kitty. I guess I’ll have to purchase a new set. I grin.
As I make my way to the lobby, my stomach turns at the thought of seeing Jameson. My tongue is still recovering. But in true form, he greets me with his same stoic stare, glances at my suitcase with three wheels, picks it up, and motions for me to get in the car.
I settle into the cool leather seat and rummage through my purse for my chocolate. Finding the lost artifact nestled in the corner of the purse, I unwrap its heavenly goodness, plop it in my mouth, and moan.
“I want to apologize.”
I open my eyes. Am I hearing an apology? It doesn’t make s
ense because he simply doesn’t apologize. And this would make three in twenty-four hours. Interesting.
“For what?” I love to feign ignorance. He is about to say he regrets the best kiss of my life, and I am trying to prolong the inevitable. Plus, messing with him gives me a bit of joy since it’s his life’s mission to annoy the crap out of me.
“For my inappropriate actions.”
I stare at him.
“To what action would you be referring? I mean, there are so many.” Okay, I do love seeing him flustered, and right now, he looks extremely uncomfortable and annoyed.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! The kiss. It was unprofessional,” he growls.
“Oh, that. No harm. I mean, it wasn’t that memorable, which is why I needed clarification.” Liar. My lady parts are planning a walkout. They are currently making picket signs.
His eyebrows furrow, his eyes glaze over, and he glares. It’s hot. I mean, if I was into the dark, brooding type, which I am not. It’s a wonder that my nose isn’t growing. He clears his throat.
“On another note, once we get to Boston, Owen’s security detail will bring him to the hotel. They boarded the plane with no problem, and Owen has made friends with the entire crew.”
I smile at the image because it is true that Owen touches everyone he meets. has probably asked out all the flight attendants, wrangled extra snacks, and managed to sit in the cockpit. I wish I were with him since this is his first time flying.
We continue to the airport with silence as our mutual companion.
Jameson
What does she mean when she says that the kiss wasn’t memorable? Seriously. It continues to haunt me—how she tasted like chocolate and coffee. The way her eyes sparkled when I pulled away. And how confused she looked as I left her standing in the middle of the lobby. I get it. I’m an asshole. But this asshole needs to focus on keeping his client’s career on track. I can’t deny that I’m drawn to her. It just doesn’t need to be my focus.
I watch her as we arrive at the Boston hotel. Her excitement about seeing Owen radiates from her body. My intel tells me that her father has indeed followed us here. I haven’t shared that with Addie, or that Dorothy is somehow playing a part in the drama. I don’t know what her endgame is, and until I find that out, I will simply have to keep her in the dark. I know what I promised, but as I try to stay ahead of the situation and keep the media at bay, I am reminded that while I might not be divulging all I know, I am trying to salvage this tour and prevent anyone from damaging her reputation. No one will steal the bliss that she should experience with her success. Not again.
Addie spots Owen. Both break out into big grins, and Addie runs to him. They hug and then jump up and down while Owen chatters on about the flight.
“They let me see the cockpit and everything!” His enthusiasm is contagious.
“Wow, it sounds like you had a great time!” I can see her relaxing. Her eyes glisten with joy-filled tears. Her smile is infectious.
“Yep. And the flight attendants were hot!” He giggles as Addie
groans.
“Owen, remember what I said about using the word ‘hot’ to describe women?” She tries to use her stern voice, which is adorable.
He laughs, “Well, they were hot.” I laugh. She sighs.
We check, in and proceed to our suite. I reserved the Presidential Suite with three bedrooms because it is necessary to be close to them. At least, that’s how I’m justifying my actions. But I know that the lines are starting to blur. My emotional attachment is starting to overshadow my job, and while I rationalize my choice, it is obvious that these two people are becoming important to me.
Security is placed outside of the room, and they will accompany us everywhere we go. Of course, I haven’t shared those details with Addie. Will she be pissed? Yeah but I’m doing this for her own good.
Addie
Seeing Owen eases my anxiety. His presence brings me tremendous peace. Calms me. Makes me whole. Watching Jameson with him expands my heart. Hearing Owen calling women “hot” annoys the crap out of me, and he knows it, which is probably the reason he continually does it. Typical us moment.
We are led into a luxurious suite that makes my apartment look like a shoebox. It’s the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons. It sounds pretentious and, well, let’s be honest, it is, but I’m not complaining. Seriously, I want to live here forever. Owen screams at the top of his lungs with excitement—something about a media room. The living room features an expansive sectional paired with a modern wingback chair. I can imagine Owen chilling out watching his favorite movie, Grease. There’s even a gorgeous kitchen that basks in the natural light from the window overlooking the city.
As I walk into my bedroom, I am speechless. It’s exquisite. Elegant. The mattress is made by NASA. I mean, seriously, NASA, people. It’s like lying on a cloud. Oh, and the bathroom has a tub so huge, I could potentially do laps if I even remotely liked to exercise. Which I don’t... So I won’t be doing laps, but it’s an option for someone. I’ll probably just soak in it. You know, like a normal person.
I walk back out into the living room where Jameson sits perusing his emails. While the elephant in the room is still hanging out with us, I suppose it’s up to me to lighten the tension. I can do this. You know, pretend that his kiss wasn’t mind-blowing. Pretend that my lips aren’t still tingling, and my tongue isn’t still humming. Pretend that he hasn’t made his way under my skin.
“Thanks for taking care of everything. What time is dinner?” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t sound weird.
“I made reservations at a cool bistro at six o’clock. I think Owen will like it. We can go over tomorrow’s schedule then. Oh, and I got Owen tickets to see the Red Sox play while you do your book signing.” He says all of this without making eye contact.
“Sounds great. Well, we’ll meet you in the lobby around 5:45.” I’m hoping that this is a subtle suggestion for him to leave and go to his room. I need for his stupidly handsome face to go bye-bye.
He smirks and makes eye contact. I quiver.
“What?” Confusion blankets my face.
“We can meet right here. My room is next to yours.” Christ. On. A. Cracker. Why does the universe hate me? Why does this stunning man have to be mere feet from me at night, when I have very dirty thoughts running through my head like a marquee in Times Square?
“Why are you staying here? I mean, in our suite.” I am nervous. Fidgeting. Not making eye contact. I might be sweating. And for the record, those women who say that they simply glisten are liars. Those bitches sweat just like the rest of us.
“I want to make sure that your father doesn’t make any surprise appearances. Speaking of that, you need to have a conversation with Owen. He needs to know, in case your dad approaches him.”
“Is he here? Did he follow us?” I can’t lie. I am a little fearful of his presence. Afraid of the unexpected, especially after my book launch party.
“Yes, he is here. This is why I have extra security, plus the media is already sniffing around, so I’m being cautious. You and Owen will have security with you both. I don’t want any arguments. This is just a precaution until we uncover what Richard has in store.”
“Alright, I’ll talk to Owen at dinner. This is going to be so confusing for him. And why would you think I would argue with you? I am very easy going and adaptable.” I smirk.
“Whatever gets you through the night, Addie. I just want you to understand that the actions I’m taking are in your best interest. Tell me, what does he know about his father?” His tone is soft, and I find myself staring at his lips. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. I need to get a grip.
“He was a baby when our father left. As time went on, Owen asked questions about why he didn’t have a father like the other kids at school. I told him that our father had to go away. At the time, that satisfied him, but now, I don’t
know. He’ll probably want to meet him.” I sigh.
He hands me a chocolate out of his pocket. What the actual fuck. I take it, unwrap it, and pop it in my mouth.
Welcome to my life. A modern version of The Twilight Zone, and I hope that I survive.
Jameson
We head to the trendy restaurant that Nina alerted me to. She thought Owen would love it because of its sports-themed décor, and it might allow Addie to decompress from the shitshow that continues to follow her. The ambiance is casual, and the décor is funky. Cork-lined walls host black and white photographs of sports figures, while leather booths create an air of intimacy. The hostess leads us to our table. Owen peruses the menu, and with Addie’s help, he settles on the steak with a side of fries. Addie takes a sip of her wine and exhales. I want to take her hand, but I don’t. Instead, I nod, letting her know she has my support.
“Owen, I want to talk to you about something.”
“Addie, I know all about sex. Remember, you told me that when I was a boy. Now I am a man. You don’t need to tell me again.” He’s seriously the funniest person I’ve ever met. I want to laugh, but the timing would be totally inappropriate.
“This isn’t about sex. This about our father,” she whispers.
“He had to go away. I remember.” He looks at Addie with the innocence of a child.
“Yes, and now he’s back.” She closes her eyes as the words slip through her lips.
“Oh. Can I see him? Maybe he will come back if he meets me.” He smiles, and tears glisten in Addie’s eyes. It takes everything in me not to offer her some sort of comfort.
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