All things considering, we’d gotten off light. Although I still had a couple of weeks of press-dodging in my immediate future. There’d be late night jokes at my expense and tabloid photos. But we weren’t getting sued, and both of their careers were intact.
It could’ve been worse.
“And have you talked to Sebastian?” she asked.
“No. Why? Haven’t you?”
And then I burst into tears. God, I was sick of being so emotional.
“There’s more, Mom. I haven’t told you everything.”
Her eyes rounded and the calm and cool mom façade dropped. I had a sneaky feeling she’d practiced this conversation before we talked.
“How could there possibly be more?”
“I know—this is too much already.” I hugged her tight. “Our relationship’s not conventional, but I can always count on you.”
“Yes, you can. Now, tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m going to be a grandmother?”
“Yes.” I waited anxiously for her reaction.
For a second or two, she didn’t speak, and I held my breath.
Tears made her eyes shine. “Oh, honey, here I am babbling about shows. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
In my mind, I’d been building this up, fearful without reason. And I should’ve known better—Bettie could handle anything coming her way. What’s the term? Unflappable—that was my mother.
“I should have, but none of this is according to plan, and I—“
“Shh.” Bettie placed a fingertip to my lips. “So what if the timing’s off? You came into my life unexpectedly, and you’re the most amazing accident I could’ve had. I’ve told you this before, but it bears repeating—you saved my life, gave me the motivation to get clean.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Not even a little bit.” She raised a brow. “Although I’m going to be a very young grandmother.”
I laughed. “Yes, you are.” Then I filled her in on the October due date.
“When you’re ready, I’ll send out a press release—saying I’m thrilled at the prospect of my first grandchild. And I’m going to throw you a baby shower. We’ll do it up right, and you’ll make out like a bandit. I’ll invite all my Hollywood friends.”
It’d be the swankiest baby shower ever—though it wouldn’t have Jell-O shots.
“Mom, what about Stanford? And my graduate degree?” I’d been working toward the goal for years.
“Is there some reason you can’t start the program next year?” I shook my head. “Or the year after next? I’m not an expert, but the university’s been around over hundred years, and it’ll last until you’re ready to return to your studies.”
“I didn’t think of it that way.” Somehow, she put everything into perspective for me. Bettie made it sound so simple. And maybe it was—I’d been overthinking this. In a few weeks, I’d be a college graduate. It wasn’t like I was still in high school.
“As long as you don’t lose sight of what you want altogether, I think you should enjoy every opportunity that comes your way.” She wagged a finger at me. “And never let a man stand between you and your dreams.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all of this a few weeks ago.” It might’ve saved us both a lot of anguish.
“Like you’ve said, I’m the cool mom, so I got this, remember?”
“Today you lived up to the title.”
“Tell me about Sebastian. Does he make you happy?”
I nodded. He had, while it lasted.
“Good, so maybe you can travel with him while he promotes the album. Besides, in the old days, that’s what college graduates did—they went on a grand tour all over the world, learning about culture and customs. You’ll learn things on the road that you won’t discover in any classroom.”
“Um, Mom, we aren’t together anymore. Sebastian said he’s not father material.” I sighed. “Maybe he’s right.”
She balled up a fist. “You’re telling me Sebastian dumped you when he found out you were pregnant?”
Uh oh, I had a sudden vision of Bettie heading over to Vagabond to smack Sebastian around. Then there’d be a brand-new juicy headline for tomorrow’s gossip rags.
“No, not at all. We agreed to not see each other anymore.”
“And he knows about the baby? You didn’t keep it from him?”
Another stab of guilt. Now she thought I was lying to people all the time.
“Yes, I told him. We just don’t work together.”
“Hmm, I see. Was the photo taken this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Then Sebastian’s a fool.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know love when I see it. I’ve been faking it on screen for years, and what I saw was real.”
I wished that were enough to make him change his mind.
“Regardless, he says he can’t be a father.”
“Well, if he can’t figure it out—then good riddance, I say.”
Maybe I’d be better off without him, but it didn’t feel that way now.
“So, now that we’ve brought the secrets out into the option— tell me all about your father’s wedding. Was the bride’s dress as hideous in person as those awful pictures I saw online?”
Grateful for the distraction, I filled Mom in on all the gruesome details.
Chapter Seventeen
Sebastian
Trying to get Poppy out of my system wasn’t working.
Frankly, I’d rather quit heroin cold turkey again—it’d be easier. I’d tried to stop thinking about Poppy, get all reminders of her out of sight. But it was pointless—she was in my thoughts, in my heart, and all over my album. The songs were all about her, about us.
And without Poppy, all of my joy was gone. It was my own bloody fault—forever the fool. I imagined she never wanted to see my sorry arse again.
It’d been weeks since our kiss went worldwide. I knew it was her worst nightmare come true, and I wasn’t there to help her with the fallout. Kissing her in public had been reckless, but I hadn’t been able to help myself. I never intended to expose her to this much media attention.
At least the feeding frenzy had died down a bit. Neither one of us had shown our faces in public, which forced the paparazzi to move on to yet another sensational story.
I’d contacted Bettie through our agents, but been too much of a coward to ring her. And I didn’t trust myself to go anywhere near Poppy, not when I was feeling so raw. I phoned my lawyer, though, and had him draft a financial arrangement for the child. While I didn’t trust myself to be a father, I’d make sure he or she would never want for anything.
Since I couldn’t go out without being mobbed, I holed up in my apartment, attended chatroom meetings to keep myself in check, and tried my best to work.
I couldn’t write the last song. The words just wouldn’t come no matter what I did. I strummed my guitar, scribbled thoughts on a pad, but a great big nothing happened.
At the start of week three, I lost it.
The writer’s block wasn’t budging, and I had to do something drastic if I was going to finish the album in time. It was the only thing I had left in my life, and I’d be damned if I gave it away. My thoughts turned inward, and I contemplated the things Poppy had said.
I didn’t like what I saw.
Perhaps I’d been treading water all this time, filling my hours with reality shows and dreaming of stardom once more. Telling myself I was working on my addiction.
But what if I’d been hiding? And I hadn’t actually moved on.
There was no point in standing around, waiting for a miracle. If she was right, I hadn’t laid my demons to rest, so it was time to revisit them.
***
“Hey, Shellie.”
Green Grove Cemetery was nearly empty. This morning I’d flown out to L.A., where Shellie was buried. With the help of a hired security team, I’d snuck in
the back entrance to outrun the press.
The familiar gnawing guilt settled in the pit of my stomach as I knelt in front of the tombstone. I brushed away the grass clippings and dust. Avoiding Shell was pointless. She was always there in the back of my mind. I laid a bouquet of sunflowers at the base—they were her favorite. When we were poor, I promised I’d buy her vaseful of them every day. Yet another broken promise.
I should’ve done this a long time ago.
“Shellie, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry doesn’t cut it, but I’m clean now, have been for years.” It was a hollow victory. Shellie shaped the man I’d become—a better man than she’d known, but still deeply flawed. Too late to help her, of course.
Poppy had been right—I was wallowing, instead of moving forward. But a tombstone couldn’t forgive me—it stood there stonily, unyielding.
“Want to know what’s ironic? You saved my life. If it weren’t for you, I’d never given up heroin.” It wasn’t fair. “And if I could change any of this, I would. I destroyed us both, and there’s nothing I can do to make it right. You were always there for me, but I failed you when you needed me most.
“I can’t bring you back, but I could help other women in your situation.” In fact, I was going to, if only to make something good come from this tragedy.
Then I started rambling, telling Shellie about everything that had happened the past few years. Finally, I poured my heart out about Poppy and what I’d just done.
I wondered if Shellie could hear me, wherever she was. Somehow, talking about myself, explaining my choices to her, led me to rethink my decisions.
Goddamn it.
I was doing it again, repeating the same behavior, running from my responsibilities and the opportunity for real joy. And this time I’d used the drugs as a shield, only in a different way.
Poppy had stepped up to handle her responsibilities, and she’d accepted my refusal with grace. She was half my age and yet facing this challenge head-on. Her courage impressed me.
“The truth is, Shellie, I’m lost without her. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life anymore.” I shook my head. “All I got is shreds of yesterday.”
I froze. Fuck me—that’s it!
I had the last song on the album—“Shreds of Yesterday.” The lyrics popped into my head like they’d been sent from above.
Takin’ a drive down Memory Lane
Pickin’ up shreds of yesterday.
So I grabbed a pen from my back pocket and scribbled down the words as fast as they came—on the receipt in my pocket, the back of my hand. The melody was already floating through my mind.
And I knew exactly who’d helped me out of this bind.
“Oh, Shellie, always looking out for me.” Bending down, I kissed my palm, then placed it on the tombstone. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore—I’ll take it from here. Rest in peace, love, and I’ll see you on the other side.”
If I was fortunate enough to make it to heaven, that was.
***
“Welcome to the first annual Shellie Reed Benefit Ball.”
I shook the reporter’s hand, and then his photographer snapped a picture of me standing beside a big banner of my former fiancée. Dots danced before my eyes from the glare of the flashes.
Since I’d visited Shellie’s grave, three weeks ago, I’d been in overdrive.
I’d organized an impromptu benefit with a public relations firm in town who worked with charities. Then I’d used every contact I had in the city to organize it, and closed Vagabond for the night to hold the event.
The club had never looked better—draped in twinkling white Christmas lights, candles on all the tables. The PR firm had even hooked a celebrity chef into designing the menu for tonight.
This was a preliminary fundraiser to establish a small drug treatment program for pregnant women, completely free of charge. It was only a drop in the bucket, and I’d have to put a lot more effort into raising money. But I intended to take a chunk of the proceeds from my tour and add to the fund. I vowed to have this project up and running before year’s end.
I’d also finished the album, recorded the last track, then sent it over for sound mixing. Shreds of Yesterday would be released at the end of the month.
“You’ve outdone yourself.”
I turned to see Bettie standing behind me. Dressed in a full-length peach gown, she looked stunning, as always.
“Thank you for inviting me, Sebastian.” She turned to her escort, a handsome young blond man. “Honey, why don’t you get me a mineral water and get a drink for you yourself. Then I’ll find you inside later?”
With a nod, he walked away, and Bettie ogled his backside as he left.
“Is he old enough to drink?” I asked.
Bettie placed a hand on her hip. “Really? You’re giving me a lecture on cradle robbing?”
“Forget I mentioned it.” I tugged at my tuxedo collar because it was threatening to strangle me all of a sudden. “I’m glad you came.”
“Oh, come on. How could I resist? My favorite charitable topic and a function hosted by my ex-husband to boot? So here I am—donating money, despite the fact that you’ve done me wrong. I’m practically a saint.” Bettie handed me a check and then turned to bestow a gleaming smile on the row of reporters. The flashes went off once more.
I chuckled, amused despite myself.
“I don’t suppose Poppy came with you?” I checked the line of people waiting outside, searching for her slim frame in the crowd.
“Hmm, you were hoping for a chance to see her again? That’s why I got the invite.” She shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint you, Sebastian, but Poppy didn’t come with me.”
Fuck it all.
It’d been a longshot anyway. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be so easy, but I had to try.
“Want my advice?”
“Please.”
“Instead of a grand gesture—and don’t get me wrong, this is an extraordinary one—try something personal. If I were you, I’d show up at her door instead and do a little groveling. It goes a long way. Trust me.”
“Good advice. Thank you.” A lot of groveling was in order, though.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, my latest boy toy needs my attention.” With a wink, Bettie sauntered off.
I watched her leave and tried to shake off the crushing disappointment. Things might never be okay with Poppy again. I had to be willing to accept the damage I’d done.
And then a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
“Looking for me?”
I gasped.
There stood Poppy, wearing a long white gown that hugged her hips, and I could see the beginnings of a baby bump.
The photographers started snapping pictures again. A blush formed on her cheeks, but Poppy held her head high, refusing to be cowed by them. Tomorrow, we’d make the papers, but I didn’t give a damn.
The world fell away—I didn’t hear the music or see anyone else but her. All of a sudden, it was just the two of us.
“I didn’t think you’d come. You didn’t RSVP.” I’d driven the PR firm’s receptionist mad, calling every single morning to ask if Poppy had confirmed.
She shrugged. “Someone once told me it pays to make an entrance.”
“Well, you certainly have the market cornered on those.”
“Well, it’s not every day a courier drops off the first copy of a brand-new Sebastian Cross CD, along with an invite to a fancy event. I had to see this for myself.”
“I’m thrilled you came.” And now that I had her here, I was nervous. What if my plan backfired? What if she’d had enough of me and endless doubts?
“For the charity.” She handed me an envelope, which must contain a check.
“Thank you.” I tucked it away in my jacket pocket for safekeeping.
“You’re welcome. This is really impressive, Sebastian.” She drifted closer to me, but stood frustratingly out of reach. “By the way, my I listened to
the whole CD—my favorite is ‘Shreds of Yesterday.’ I think it’s the best thing you’ve ever written.”
My chest swelled. Her opinion meant more to me than any music critic’s.
“Thank you, love. It’s a song about moving on.”
“Which is why I like it so much.” Her eyes were big and bright, and I had the urge to kiss her once more, but held back.
“In that vein, I’m going to talk publicly about what happened with Shellie—the entire unvarnished truth—when I step on the stage this evening.”
“Wow, that’s a huge step. Looks like you’ve made a lot of progress.”
I was relieved that she thought so.
“Come with me. I have something for you—both of you.” She allowed me to lead her by the arm to my office, the place where we’d started this adventure. One little kiss had changed both our worlds forever.
Against the wall was a brand-new crib, still in the box. According to the website, it was a top-of-the-line model with every safety feature known to man.
She laughed. “Thank you, Sebastian, it’s amazing.”
“It can be converted into a toddler bed later on.” Damn, I sounded like an infomercial.
“Thank you.”
“So you don’t have one yet?”
Poppy shook her head. “No, my showers aren’t for another couple months. My mom’s throwing one and Kate’s handling the other. I’m pretty sure Kate’s treating this like a bachelorette party, so no telling what kind of sketchy gifts I’ll get.”
I’d pay money for a ticket to a baby shower Kate was in charge of. There was no telling what would happen.
But now it was time for my penance.
“Poppy, I’m sorry about everything.”
“You’ve already apologized, and your lawyer called with the child support agreement, which was very generous.” Then she gestured to the door. “Not to mention, the program you’re building is fantastic. I can’t believe how far you’ve come.”
“Thank you, love, your support means a lot to me.” I steeled myself, then asked the question I’d been holding in forever. “And what about you and me?”
Wild Ride (Let it Ride Book 2) Page 12
