by Cora Kenborn
Julian moved to whisper into my ear when she said it.
“Julian, um, can I have a hug?”
She unknowingly ripped the top off of Pandora’s Box.
Julian lightly kissed the outer shell of my ear. “Calm down, princess. I’ve got this.”
However, I’d already twisted out of his hold. Girls asked Julian for autographs and hugs constantly, but I couldn’t handle it while pregnant and running from a stalker. My threshold had been pushed to its breaking point.
“Why stop at a hug?” I whipped around with fire in my eyes. “Maybe with some persistence and a couple more tears, you’ll get a fan appreciation fuck.”
“Phoebe!” called Julian, shock in his voice.
The woman shot me a venomous look. “Publicity whore.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re a publicity whore. Enjoy it now.”
“We’re in a hurry, I’m sorry. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Julian threw up a hand again, and, mercifully, a taxi pulled over. Shoving me inside, he slammed the door. “Jesus, Phoebe! What the fuck?”
Tears burned my eyes. My anger had nothing to do with that girl. She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I can’t do this, Julian,” I whimpered, sliding down the seat.
He kissed my forehead and pulled me close. “Yes, we can.”
“What if we can’t find her in time?” She had anonymity on her side, a luxury Julian and I didn’t possess.
“Phoebe, do you trust me?”
“That’s not answering my question.” I wiped tears away with my sleeve.
“Just answer it,” he repeated. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I answered honestly.
“Then trust me when I tell you I’d die before I’d let anything happen to you again. We’ll find out who’s doing this and prosecute the hell out of them. You’re not going to have to live in fear, do you understand me?” His arms tightened around me, and I inhaled, letting his familiar scent comfort me.
“You can’t promise that.”
He sighed heavily and turned his head, staring out of his window. I knew what his silence meant.
He was scared too.
***
I sat in Julian’s lap at his house, both of us silently staring at each other, while he ran his fingers through my hair. He meant to soothe me, but the normality of the action agitated me. Enough was enough. The argument at Vinyl, the inquisition with Helena, the ruined picture of the baby…it all made my anxiety boil over and I sat up.
“Do you know why I did that last pageant?” I forced myself to look him in the eyes.
“Excuse me?” he said, still rubbing my hair.
“The Iris Festival. Do you know why I competed in that last pageant that I won?”
“No, I’m not familiar with pageants in general.”
Ignoring his quip, I continued my confession. “It was so I could go to college. We were poor, Julian. All of my pageant gowns were second-hand dresses. My mother spent her weekends on the phone getting sponsors for competition entry fees. I knew there was a scholarship attached to the Iris Festival. God, it was the last thing I wanted to do after…”
“After?” Julian’s voice was calm, but I knew him. Inside, anxiety roiled within him, but he stilled, afraid of what I would or wouldn’t say next.
“My dad was a drunk. He’d been that way ever since my sister, Chloe, and I were little,” I explained. “Dad was one of those hypocrites I told you about at the hotel. He’d go out to bars at night, get shitfaced, and then come home, screaming at Mom for no reason. Chloe and I would hide in our rooms. If we defended her, we got it too.”
I stopped to breathe through the lump that lodged in my throat and angrily batted the tear that escaped down my cheek. It pissed me off to cry about that son of a bitch. Reaching to my jaw, he caught the tear and wiped it away. I looked up apologetically and reluctantly pulled away.
“Let me finish, Julian. I can barely do this as it is.” I ran my hands down the length of my hair and sighed. “He came home one night mad as hell. He was already yelling at Mom when her phone rang. A guy co-chairing the church coat drive with her called, reminding her to drop them off on Sunday. Dad accused Mom of screwing him. The more she denied it, the more he yelled.”
Pausing again, I indulged in a shuddering breath. The final part of the story crushed my heart.
“Do you want to stop?” He gave my hand a squeeze.
“No,” I continued with determination. “We didn’t see him hit her that time. We heard it.”
“Oh, Phoebe.” Anger clouded his face.
“When he passed out, Mom came to our room and said he’d crossed the line for the last time. We packed, got in the car and left.” He shifted closer, and I nestled back into his lap. “I don’t remember much. It was dark and raining. I don’t even think she knew where she was going. We never saw it coming.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Accident?”
I nodded. “Drunk driver. They never hit the brake. Just crossed into our lane and hit us.”
He squeezed my hand harder and looked away. “I’m so sorry, Phoebe.”
“They said she didn’t suffer. I guess that’s something.”
He turned me so we faced one another. “I’m afraid to ask what happened to you.”
I shrugged. “A lot of broken bones. Chloe was hurt worse than me. Obviously, we healed.”
“God, please tell me that you didn’t go back with that man.”
“No, the evidence was on my mom’s face, among other places, and with statements from us, the state took his rights away. We had no other family, and since Chloe was nineteen, she became my legal guardian.” I finally looked him in the eyes, tears streaming. “Wanna know something I’ve never told anyone?” I wasn’t sure he could handle any more, but I couldn’t stop now.
“Only if you want to tell me.”
“My mom died for nothing.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, stroking my hair.
“Mom left to prevent him from hurting me and Chloe. But Dad had been hitting me for years. I was just too scared of what else he’d do if I said anything.” After opening a wound that had festered for years, I started to laugh uncontrollably. The giggles started deep within my stomach. They gurgled out softly at first, then erupted into peals of laughter. One after the other, they kept coming, tears rolling down my cheeks in quick succession.
Julian stared at me like I’d lost my fucking mind.
“Phoebe?” he asked cautiously.
Hearing him call my name flipped my emotions, and the howling laughter turned into painful cries. I gasped for air as the memories flooded me. Before I knew it, he’d cradled me tightly against his chest.
“It’s about time you let it out. God, I’m sorry, no one should have to go through that.”
“I don’t want pity, Julian,” I sobbed. “I just don’t want to be alone anymore.”
“You’re never going to be alone again, princess,” he promised, wiping my tears. “Neither of us will.”
He was right. We’d have the baby with us for the rest of our lives.
But would we have each other?
***
I was almost asleep, snuggled next to Julian on the couch, when the front door opened and the cavalry herded in.
“Hey, Romeo, is this a free show or is there a cover?”
Julian opened one eye, then closed it. “Fuck off, Z.”
“Glad to see you two worked things out.” The guy they called Ty smiled at me. “Nice to see you again, Phoebe.” He had a kind smile, almost brotherly, like he truly cared about Julian’s happiness.
“You too.” I smiled back.
Bending to Julian’s ear, I whispered quietly. “Do they know about Vivian?”
He nodded his head, his voice low. “As far as I know, Detective Hough questioned them to verify my alibi, but they’ve been acting like it’s any other day. I don’t know if they’re
in shock or just assholes. Whatever, I’m sure they wouldn’t want to talk about it in front of you, no offense.”
It stung but I understood. I was still an outsider. Vivian may have been a bitch, but she’d been around way longer than me. Having me witness their grief would aggravate the situation.
“Look, guys, it’s Phulian! Should we call Blogosphere Daily and give them the scoop?”
At the mention of the online gossip column, I lifted my head and locked eyes with Tanna. Her face held a look of comradery as much as it did the night we met at the club—like barbed wire. Her purple hair was pulled into low pigtails, her lips pulled just as tight. She regarded me with the same accusing look that Helena did. I guessed when it came to protecting Julian, I would always be odd man out within his inner circle.
“Tanna, don’t start shit, all right?” Julian chastised, stretching his arms above his head.
Tanna smirked and swiped something on her phone, handing it to him. “Oh, where’s your sense of humor? It’s all in good fun. I think Phulian is hysterical, don’t you? That writer has one wicked sense of humor.”
“I think she’s a cunt,” I said point-blank.
Tanna just smiled as Julian read the passage out loud.
Lordy, Lordy Lordess Plays Dirty
Nobody puts Phoebe in a corner. Or on film.
It seems that dating Phoebe Ryan has made Julian Bale lose his mind. You all know the drill by now. We here at BD have a permanent perch at the Ralston Media building and caught all the action today. A photog tried to get an innocent picture of our happy Phulian entering the building. What transpired, you ask? Pandemonium. It appears that our favorite rock god gets a little antsy about his goddess being photographed by the paps and went Naomi Campbell on the poor guy. Sources say that there won’t be any new Phulian pictures, and our sexy crooner may be singing a different tune soon—say, to the beat of a restraining order, perhaps?
Also in breaking Phulian news, a little buzz in our ear tells us there may be diapers and bottles on the horizon for the happy couple. Is this true or just a rumor? Comment below and watch for updates. Is Phulian 2.0 on the way? Keep checking back because…
You’d better believe we’re watching. Everything.
“What the hell?” I blurted out in shock.
“Guys?” Ty said, grinning. “Do you have something to tell us?”
“Phoebe?” Julian lifted an eyebrow in a silent question.
There was no escaping it now. That columnist would make sure the world knew. Chloe would know. Everyone at Ralston Media would know. Hell, the bitch trying to kill me already knew.
“Is nothing you people do private?” I pouted.
“Jagger, you motherfucker. What’ve I always told you? No glove, no love saves your life. You don’t listen for shit, do you?” Zane shook his head and threw his jacket on the couch as he headed into the kitchen. Jerking the refrigerator open, he grabbed a beer and popped the top, giving us both the side-eye.
Julian sat up, all but throwing me to the floor. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You know damn well what it means, brother. We had this talk right on that deck. You fucking laughed and we toasted over it. Remember, no risk of a fuck up when you wrap up?”
I turned and eyed Julian, the exchange irking me. “Oh, you did, huh?”
“Fuck, we were talking about him, Phoebe!” He ran his hand through his disheveled hair, clearly frustrated. “He fucked some random chick in the bathroom at the club.”
“Then we talked about Viv being all over your dick.” Zane smirked.
“You’re both dicks.” I stood, glaring at both of them.
“Phoebe…”
“Don’t!” I warned, walking away from him. “Just leave me alone for a minute. I need time to regroup.” Wisely, he stayed seated as I stepped out on the deck to get away from the overwhelming testosterone in the room.
Closing the glass door behind me, I stared at the lawn and began to miss my mom. I didn’t have any female friends and it was glaringly obvious, especially now that I was pregnant. Who’d give me advice? Certainly not Chloe. All she’d tell me was how much my mistake would cost her. The realization I’d go through this without my mother saddened me.
“They’re just being dicks, you know. They don’t mean any harm. Even Zane, believe it or not,” a voice said behind me.
Tanna. Great.
“Could’ve fooled me,” I said without turning.
Walking up to the railing, she leaned over and peered out at the grass. “I guess congratulations are in order.”
“Thanks.”
“Planned?”
What an odd and extremely personal question. “Not in the least.”
“Oh.” The mood turned awkward quickly. She fidgeted, neither one of us having anything to say. Finally, she let out a breath and turned to face me. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Excuse me?” I said, not sure I’d heard her correctly.
“I said, don’t hurt him,” she repeated, cracking her knuckles rhythmically. “He’s special. He can be a dick sometimes and act totally irrational. At first, he even makes you want to kick his ass. But he’s a good person, and he cares about you. I’m telling you not to hurt him.”
“I’d never hurt Julian on purpose.” I couldn’t stop staring at her. She wouldn’t blink. I counted at least twenty seconds that her eyes never moved. It was freaky.
“But you have.” She bit her bottom lip and twirled a silver pendant on her neck.
“We’ve hurt each other, but never intentionally.” Holy crap, she still hadn’t blinked. Was that normal?
“He’s been hurt a lot,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard me. “He’s been hurt, like me. Losing someone is hard.” The twisting of the necklace became fierce, and her neck reddened. I focused on the pendant as she twisted it between black painted nails. It had silver wings, maybe pewter. It looked old.
“I like your necklace,” I said, trying to force her to blink. “Is that a wing pendant?”
That seemed to jar her out of her trance, and she let go of the necklace as if it burned.
“Yeah.” She sniffed, turning away. “It’s symbolic. It means a higher evolution of the soul—higher realms of existence and ascension and spiritual mobility.”
“Sounds kind of heavy,” I joked.
“It’s for my brother. He was incredibly profound.”
“Was?”
Tanna’s jawline tightened at the word. “He died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, shit happens,” she said, stuffing her hands into her pockets.
That seemed like a really strange thing to say about your brother’s death, but I let it go. I chalked it up to Tanna just being weird.
“I’d better get back in there before they think we’ve become friends or something.” She attempted something resembling a smile. “I’d hate to ruin my reputation as an anti-female bonder.”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “I get it.”
“Don’t let that Blogosphere chick get to you. Women like her are always for sale. She’s probably hacked into every public relations database from here to Hollywood.”
Tanna turned around and went inside. I stood there chewing on her words until they actually sank in and took root.
Public relations database.
Hollywood.
Hacking.
When the right words added up to the right woman, there was only one thing left to do.
Call her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Julian
After Phoebe walked out, I had to deal with Zane’s and Ty’s relentless questions about her pregnancy. Zane cringed each time he heard the word baby, as if my life had ended. Ty just grinned like a fucking idiot every time he looked at me.
I ended up flipping them off and walked to the glass door. I watched her out on the deck with Tanna. Memories from her earlier confession clouded my brain, driving home the reason why we connected on s
uch a fierce level.
I recognized myself in her all along. She’d lost someone in a drunk driving accident too.
My stomach knotted in witnessing her grief. I never cried over Lam. Not even at his funeral. The shock was too much. But watching her go through it sent fresh waves of guilt through me. I’d put his death on a shelf to be dealt with at a later date—a date that never came.
Phoebe’s pain, and the force of my guilt, collided at the worst possible fucking moment. I couldn’t tell her in the middle of her breakdown, or I’d be the cause of us both imploding. All I could do was hold her in my arms. I finally understood Phoebe Ryan, at least for the most part. I couldn’t imagine being terrorized by your own family. The fact that she’d even come back from something like that was a small miracle.
I wanted to block out all the pain and memories we both lived with, go out on that deck, and bring her to me. My main concern was the woman I loved and our baby.
Then the reality hit me. I was going to be someone’s father.
Holy shit.
“Julian?” She’d come back in and leaned against the glass door, her head cocked to the side.
“Hey,” I said, smiling at her. “Are you all right now?”
“Yeah. Sorry about before. Zane just got to me. He seems to have a talent for that.” She halfway grinned and dropped her chin to her chest.
I could sense she wanted to tell me something, but had a hard time finding the words. I was in a giving mood, so I let her off easy. “What’s on your mind, princess?”
“Faith.”
“I didn’t take you for the religious type, all things considered, but I guess we have to have a little faith to deal with all of this,” I agreed.
She snorted softly. “No, I mean Faith Addison.”
I felt the line between my brows deepen. “You’ve lost me.”
“Tanna said something that reminded me of someone who could help us,” she said, walking over to me. She ran her hand through the length of her hair and gauged my reaction.
The fact that Tanna said anything to her at all surprised me. Tanna usually avoided female companionship.
