Dream Girl Drama (Big Shots #3)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sig stood at the bottom of the narrow metal stairs, looking up into the interior of the private plane. He couldn’t feel the duffel bag thrown over his shoulder or the nighttime breeze tousling his hair. His reflection in the hand railing was his only clue he’d made it to the airfield where LA had sent the VIP treatment. He’d slowly lost feeling everywhere. But he needed to get up the stairs, into the plane, so it could take off and fly him to the other side of the country. That’s what was happening. No stopping now. Go.

Grinding his molars together, Sig forced himself to ascend, one step at a time, ignoring the phone that vibrated nonstop in the front pocket of his jeans. Burgess had been calling him all day, no doubt wanting to talk him out of the decision he intended to make. Reese had called, as well, asking him once again to reconsider. Hell, even Mailer and Corrigan were on his ass, but they didn’t understand what it was like to love someone to the point of pain and give her up. God willing, they never would.

Sig collapsed into the first seat, staring blankly ahead.

His phone continued to buzz, carrying on for several minutes until he sighed, leaned back, and extricated the device from his pocket. Instead of Burgess, Reese, or one of the Rookies calling him, however, it was the private investigator.

“Jesus. What the...” Sig shook his head. Why was the guy still calling? He’d sent the final payment. What more did the man want from him? At this point, the fact that he’d hired a PI felt ridiculous. He’d never really had a chance of success, had he?

Maybe he owed the man a verbal goodbye. At the very least.

It hurt to think, to talk, so he’d avoided speaking to virtually everyone for the last few days, but he cursed and answered now, hoping to get the conversation over in under a minute. “Hey, Niko. Sorry I’ve been MIA, but I’m just about to take off on a flight—”

“Shit, man. You had me worried.”

Sig frowned. That was a little extreme, wasn’t it?

Maybe not. Maybe everyone in his life should be concerned about him, considering he felt like a bleeding chunk was missing from his chest. “I’m good,” he lied. “Thanks for—”

“I shouldn’t have sent that file over without preparing you first. Some people don’t take that kind of news very well. It’s upsetting, you know?”

What in God’s name was Niko talking about?

“To be honest, I didn’t bother looking at the file. My father ended up marrying Sofia Clifford in Vegas last week, so... not much point in trying to fight it now.”

There was an extended silence on the other end. “You didn’t look at the file?”

Beneath Sig, the plane engine started with a brief growl that settled into a hum.

“Nah, didn’t look. And it’s not that I don’t appreciate your hard work. I do—”

“I think you should look.”

Irritation crawled up the back of Sig’s neck. Why wasn’t the private investigator taking the hint? Hope had withered and died on the floor of Chloe’s apartment and reigniting that flame was fucking cruel. “There’s nothing it could say that would make a difference.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Niko said, with a humorless laugh. “Look, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. If this is where we part ways, so be it. I appreciate the prompt payment. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Sig muttered, watching the screen as the call disengaged.

“We’ll begin taxiing in five minutes,” called the pilot from the front of the plane.

Distracted, Sig nodded... and looked back down at his phone, his curiosity multiplying by the second. What important revelation could possibly be in that file?

After another few seconds of hesitation, he tapped his email icon and scrolled down, down, past all the correspondence with LA, ads, subscription renewal alerts, until he landed on the message from Niko. He opened it, went to the attached PDF, and started reading.

While attempting to access marriage and divorce records with the county clerk of Hennepin County, a paternity test was discovered. At the behest of the Gauthier family, Harvey Lerner was asked, via the courts, to take the test that ultimately resulted in a false result.

It was determined that Harvey Lerner is not the paternal father of Sig Gauthier.

The words bled together. His pulse pumped in his ears.

That couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be...

But it made so much sense. His mother’s resentment, her lack of communication with her family, Harvey leaving them so abruptly. My God. Oh my God.

If he wasn’t Harvey’s son, wasn’t his blood relative...

Then the man married to Chloe’s mother wasn’t his real father.

Not even his stepfather. Nothing.

There was no relation whatsoever.

Meaning...

Chloe wasn’t his stepsister.

They weren’t related at all. Not by marriage. Not in any way.

The revelation was too good to be true, though. He needed more than one source to confirm, before he ran with it. Otherwise he’d open up himself and Chloe to another disappointment. One that might very well kill them this time around.

Hands shaking, he called his mother, barely able to speak when she answered. “Rosie? Mom.” Until she made a sound at his use of the word “mom,” until that very moment, the implication of this news where his mother was concerned didn’t occur to him. Now, the shock jolted him almost violently in his seat, his head shaking no of its own volition. She’d known. She’d held the key to his prison cell this entire time and hadn’t offered it to him. “Rosie.”

“Yes, Sig?” Silence passed. “Is something the matter?”

“He’s not my father,” Sig managed, lips parched. “Harvey. He’s not my dad. Is that the truth? Yes or no?”

He held his breath.

“Sig, I...” Something toppled over in the background. “Why would you a-ask—”

Anger and something else—betrayal, possibly, yes—locked around his windpipe, causing the breath he’d been holding to burst out of him. “Don’t lie to me, please. Give me a straight answer, just this once. This... God, if this is true, if Harvey isn’t my father, not knowing the truth could have kept me from her. I could have left her for no reason, don’t you see that?”

Her confusion was palpable even through the phone. “Who, Sig? Who are you talking about?”

“ Chloe. ” Sure, he’d never told his mother about Chloe. He’d locked the magic of her up tight, refusing to share until he knew for sure they were forever. But wanting to know the truth about his parentage should have been enough. No, it was enough. “Who is my father, Rosie? I want the truth now. Now, okay? No more games.”

Several moments swam past, each of them a blur. “Bobby Prince.” Her exhale spoke of relief tinged with a telling dose of shame. “The man I was seeing before Harvey swooped back in... I— Oh my God. I’m very sorry, Sig. I should have told you. Old habits die hard and I was brought up to keep secrets, avoid anything that could poison the family name. And there was... more. There’s more.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I just wanted to prove we didn’t need any of them. We didn’t.”

Sig struggled to locate his compassion—and miraculously, he did, though it was buried deep beneath a wealth of anger and relief and urgency. Maybe because his mother’s quest to make it alone reminded him of Chloe’s journey. Or maybe staying mad wasn’t possible when life had just become worth living again.

He and Chloe could be together. There wasn’t anything stopping them.

Nothing but this flight to Los Angeles. Signing with another team.

He gulped in a shuddering breath, filling his lungs completely for the first time in a full minute. Maybe days. “Thank you for finally telling me the truth, Rosie. But right now, I have somewhere to be. I’ll call you another time.” He swallowed hard. “And I’ll tell you about her.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” she said in a weepy voice.

Sig hung up and stood on shaky legs, lurching forward to catch himself on the partition in front of him, the relief so wild and potent, it was hitting him in startling waves, knocking the air out of him over and over and over again. “Stop.” He raised his thousand-pound arm, waving at the young woman who was in the process of closing the airplane door. “Stop, I’m getting off. I have to go. Now.”

“I... what?” she sputtered. “Is something wrong?”

No. Something was finally right.

Christ. Chloe’s performance was tonight and he wasn’t there. But he’d get there. He’d fucking be there, like she’d asked. And afterward, he’d hold her and inform her he’d never let her go. Not ever. The misery and madness were over.

It seemed to take a million years for the steps to be lowered once again, but as soon as they touched the tarmac, Sig raced to the bottom and sprinted for the charter office, phone in one hand, bag in the other. He didn’t bother calling an Uber, wasn’t even sure he could manage to think critically enough for that, because the joy was an explosion inside of him, sending his muscles into bouts of weakness, followed by bursts of strength. And he couldn’t think, he just ran, throwing himself into the back of a waiting cab once he exited the building.

“Symphony Hall, please,” he said raggedly.

Satisfied that the driver was picking up on the urgency in his tone, based on the way the man hit the gas, Sig looked down at his phone once again and dialed, not even bothering to catch his breath.

“Reese?” Sig slumped back against the leather seat, unashamed of the moisture blurring his vision. “Reese, it’s Sig. I’m going to forward you an email. It’s from a private investigator. Read the attachment.” He could barely operate his phone, his hands were shaking so violently, so he blew a heavy breath up at the ceiling, tried again and finally succeeded. “If that’s enough for you, if the organization will accept this information and use it to have my back if anyone comes for me or Chloe, then I’ll stay in Boston.”

S IG DIDN’T WASTE time exhaling with relief when the white pillars of Symphony Hall came into view. The taxi hadn’t even reached a full stop before he dove onto the sidewalk, taking the concrete steps two at a time. Whether or not he’d planned on attending tonight, Chloe would have left him a ticket at the box office. He didn’t even question that—their loyalty to each other was an unwavering fact—and the small ticket window was where he headed as soon as he cleared the entrance...

But he stopped in his tracks before he could reach it.

Harvey and Sofia stood between Sig and will call.

They were in a small group of people, Sofia holding out her diamond-bedecked hand for everyone to admire. An hour ago, that sight might have gutted Sig. Not now. Right there, in that moment, he could only think I’m going to buy one twice as big for my girl .

As if he’d made that declaration out loud, Harvey turned partially and locked eyes with Sig over the heads of the milling crowd. The older man didn’t appear surprised to see him, but whatever he read in Sig’s expression caused Harvey’s eyes to narrow. With a gentle pat of his new wife’s shoulder, he began cutting through the crowd toward Sig.

Sig waited, not willing to take a single step to meet the other man halfway.

Not now. Maybe not ever again.

At the moment, he didn’t feel forgiving, but something in the back of his mind told him he was on the verge of so much happiness that holding grudges wasn’t in his future.

“Son,” Harvey said, by way of greeting, flicking a glance at Sig’s attire. “Did you just come from practice—”

“Son?” Sig could feel his pulse hammering in his neck. “Care to rephrase that?”

Harvey rocked back on his heels. Took a long pull of the champagne in his hand. “Your mother finally told you the truth.”

They’d both known. Son of a bitch. It took everything inside of Sig to suppress the fresh wave of rage. “I had to find out for myself first,” Sig snapped.

“The private investigator?” Harvey made a sound. “He must be good.”

“Answer my questions, please. Don’t draw this out any more than you already have.” Chloe was in the building. He just needed to get to where she was. The delay burned. “Did you find out you weren’t my real father? Is that why you really left?”

“It was a complicated time—”

“Answers. Now.”

“Christ. Fine.” Harvey lost some of the starch in his spine, a hint of the bravado in his expression and for a handful of seconds, Sig could almost picture the man thirty years younger. “I was going to stick around, Sig. I was going to be your dad. You have to believe me on that. I spent that entire pregnancy at your mother’s side. I was there in the delivery room. And believe me, her parents didn’t want me there. I was not of their ilk, you see. But I was determined to raise you.” He paused to take the final swallow of his champagne. “They couldn’t have been more gleeful when the paternity test determined you belonged to your mother’s on again, off again boyfriend, Bobby Prince, the rich kid they’d handpicked for her.”

Sig forced his features to remain schooled at the utterance of his real father’s name for the second time in an hour. Someday, with Chloe at his side, he’d track down Bobby Prince. He wouldn’t get his hopes up for a tearful meeting or a meaningful relationship. At the very least he’d hope for clarity, closure. A chance to set the record straight. But he had a long way to go before he crossed that bridge. Knowing he’d cross it with Chloe as his wife made it a lot less daunting.

“Once those test results came back,” Harvey continued, “they assumed your mother would drop me, go back to Bobby so you could be raised by your rightful father, but...” A fond smile danced reluctantly across his mouth. “Your mother was too stubborn for that. I’d forgiven her and we were determined to make it on our own. The three of us.”

Sig could feel it. He was about to find the missing piece he’d been searching for since he’d been old enough to wonder why he didn’t have a father. “What happened?”

Harvey’s collar moved with the force of his swallow. “Her parents offered me money. A lot of it, Sig. Enough to support me my entire life.” He looked Sig in the eye. “All I had to do was leave.”

Sig’s chest dipped with an inhale. “They bribed you.”

“And I took it. I’m sorry, but I took it. I left.”

“So you didn’t steal anything. It was given to you.”

Harvey nodded. “Again, they incorrectly assumed that your mother would return home like an obedient daughter, marry the right man, live the life they were organizing for her. But... she didn’t. I only found out later through mutual friends that she’d given her parents the proverbial finger and left to raise you as a single mother. I was proud of her. And I was ashamed that I’d been the weak one. I regret it every day.”

Sig stood stock-still, absorbing the events that had shaped his young life. He wanted to be angry at these adults for being selfish, rash. But again, he couldn’t help but admire his mother for striking out on her own. Not giving anyone power over her. Hanging on to her free will with both hands, even though it was hard.

“Rosie’s got her pride, that woman. You get that from her.” The lights were dimming in the lobby, signaling that the performance was about to start. Briefly, Harvey looked down at the carpeted floor, then back at Sig. “When you reached out to me eleven years ago, I wanted to tell you everything. The truth. You deserved that. I’d signed a nondisclosure in order to receive the funds... but if I’m being totally honest, the guilt was still with me. I thought I could make up for leaving. I’m sorry I allowed the lie to continue, Sig.”

Sig didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.

He needed time to sit with the news, the truth.

And he wanted to do all of that with Chloe.

“Does Sofia know you’re not my father?”

Harvey hung his head. “No, but I’ll tell her.”

“Good. Do it soon. I’m not hiding what I have with Chloe anymore,” Sig said, his voice rusted. “I need to be in there when the show starts. Excuse me—”

“I hope we can still... have some kind of relationship. Maybe that’s unrealistic, considering it was tentative before I met Sofia and now—”

“You were going to let me lose Chloe so you wouldn’t have to expose your shame. So you wouldn’t have to admit you’d been lying to me for over a decade.”

Harvey reddened slightly. “What do you want me to say? What can I say?”

“Say you and Sofia won’t get in the way of what I have with Chloe anymore. Believe me, I don’t care if I speak to either of you for the foreseeable future, possibly ever, but Chloe is a better person than me. And a lot more forgiving.”

“I won’t stand in your way.” Perhaps symbolically, Harvey stepped aside, no longer blocking Sig’s path to the will call window. “I’ll do what I can with my wife.”

Those two words, “my wife,” and the possibility of using them in reference to Chloe someday soon, made it impossible for Sig to say anything else. Only move toward the window at a fast clip while the rest of the crowd filed into the auditorium, his heart locked in his throat.

I’m coming, Chlo.

I’m coming.

“ G OOD LUCK TONIGHT,” whispered one of the violinists as she passed, getting in position a few yards away, one face among a sea of talented bodies, poised to play their instruments.

“Thank you,” Chloe said softly, going back to looking blindly at her harp.

Static snapped in her fingertips, urging her to touch the strings, but the crushing weight on her chest kept both arms stationary at her side. She’d play. She’d get through this. He wouldn’t be there, but she’d live through the night and that was the best she could hope for.

On the other side of the velvet curtain, voices blended together and silenced, followed by a pleasant voice introducing the symphony—and then the curtain was gone and Chloe moved on autopilot, pushing her posture one notch higher into perfection, fingers lifting to the strings, head turning to face the conductor. To wait for the cues that would guide them all through the performance, though they knew it by heart.

She’d been reckless, given her fragile mental state, to leave that ticket at will call for Sig. Her heart wouldn’t let her do anything different, however. She’d been compelled by some deep reserve of hope that hadn’t quite been erased yet. And now, despite the fact that she’d been told not to look out at the audience, to never take her attention off the instrument and her conductor, Chloe’s gaze ticked left, seeking out the seat she’d reserved.

Just in case.

Just...

Sig slid into the open spot.

Chloe’s heart barreled up into her throat, beating, beating.

Bright splotches of light temporarily blinded her. There he was. He’d come. A broad-shouldered badass among regular citizens. He was wearing jeans and a Bearcats hoodie and for some reason that made her want to burst into noisy, appreciative tears. Sig looked at her hard, his chest inflating, releasing, before cupping a hand over his mouth, like he was overcome.

Of course, he was. They both were, just being in the same room together.

Chloe gulped down a breath and tried to focus.

Focus.

And she did, because her soul had returned. He was right there, in the room.

Throughout the course of the next ninety minutes, she played every note for him, delivering them with imaginary kisses, closing her eyes, and reliving, relishing, memorizing every moment of their acquaintance from start to finish, even the hard parts. She let them bleed into her performance, her fingers moving over the strings unbidden.

When it ended, she stood up and bowed with the rest of her company, her skin turning clammy and cold when she found Sig’s chair empty. Had he left? When?

As soon as the curtain came down, she walked offstage in a trance, surrounded by her fellow musicians, but not absorbing any of their praise or congratulations, barely aware of her own voice as she returned those compliments. She just needed to get somewhere quiet so she could think and cry and bolster herself for the next day. And the day after that.

There was a costuming room in the depths of the backstage area that no member of the ensemble used, because musicians came and went in the same clothing—and she moved toward it now, closing herself inside the cool darkness, falling back against the door and pressing her palms to the surface. Leaning her head back and inhaling, exhaling.

A knock sounded behind Chloe and her inclination was to ignore it.

To take her moment.

But the knock grew more insistent. Had someone left their purse in the room and needed to retrieve it? Why was this the one time someone needed access?

“Sorry,” she said, forcing her wobbly voice to firm, while turning around and opening the door. “I was just taking a second...”

Sig.

Sig was there. Holding a bouquet of lipstick pink roses.

Her heart went into a sprint.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.” His gaze covered every inch of her face. “I couldn’t stand the idea of not having flowers after watching you be so incredible up there.”

“Thank you.”

He shook his head slowly. “I wish I could watch you do it another ten thousand times.”

“But you can’t,” she finished for him. “I know.”

“I can, actually. And I will. Do you think they’ll give me the same seat every time? It’s the perfect angle to watch your lips move with the notes.”

Confusion clashed with her joyfulness over seeing him. “I don’t understand.”

Briefly, Sig looked over his shoulder to find the crowd thinning backstage. Then he let the roses drop to his side and shuffled her forward, into the room, clicking it shut behind them. The sudden muffling of sound, the dimness of the room was so intimate, she felt a sob well in her chest. “We can’t keep doing this.” She was already twisting her fingers in the collar of his hoodie. “We’re setting ourselves back—”

“Chloe.” Without looking, he set the roses on a nearby vanity, quickly taking her face in his hands. “The private investigator I hired... he sent me a report days ago and I didn’t think there was any point in looking at it, but, Jesus, there was. He caught me right before I took off for LA. I almost... oh God, I almost signed with another team. Away from you.”

It took him several moments to keep going.

“Remember I told you my mother’s family never approved of Harvey? It turns out, they paid him off to leave us. They bribed him. He took it because he wanted the money, yeah, but there was more. A paternity test done when I was born. I guess this is why it has been so hard for my mother to talk about what happened back then, but...” He choked on a laugh, before sobering. Stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Chloe, Harvey isn’t my father. He isn’t even related to me by marriage, Chlo. We can be together.”

“But...” The world had turned into a choppy ocean beneath her feet, wind whooshing in her ears. No. No... what? Was she imagining this? “Really? Really? ”

“Cleared it with the team. I can’t imagine you’ll have any problems with the symphony...” A line formed between his brows. “If you want to wait until you speak to them, until you know for sure they won’t—”

“No waiting. No.” She was already midlaunch, her body colliding with Sig’s so hard, his back slammed into the door. He was laughing, though. They were both laughing as they embraced, his powerful arms lifting her off the floor and squeezing tight as a vise, and it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard in her life. There were no reservations, their joy totally unfettered. And when his mouth found hers and the hunger came roaring in, they did nothing to stop it. They couldn’t.

Sig reversed their positions, flattening Chloe to the door, his hands already rucking up her dress to her waist, unzipping his jeans while he looked her right in the eye, letting her see the love that ran wild there. Love that was no longer hesitant or worried or penned in. It would grow until it took up every corner of the universe.

His eyes slid closed and squeezed, squeezed so tight, his mouth slanting over Chloe’s in a slow, thorough kiss that communicated promises and lifetimes together. “We could wait until I get you home,” he rasped, pressing his hard flesh to the swath of cotton between her legs, finding her entrance through the thin barrier and rubbing. “We have forever now.”

“I told you,” she murmured, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, encircling his hips with her thighs. “No more waiting. No more. I love you too much. I love you so much .”

“I love you, too. I love you ,” he said hoarsely, his mouth open and panting against hers as he jerked her panties aside and thrust home, his hand raising and cupping over her lips to trap the ensuing gasp and whimper. “Shh. Everything is okay now, Chlo.” His voice vibrated with intensity. “We found a way. The bad is behind us.”

Her neck lost power as he rocked into her roughly, tenderly, her chest almost in pain from the sheer amount of bliss that had been unlocked. “Wake up with me tomorrow morning. Wake up with me every morning.”

He rolled their foreheads together, holding himself deep. So deep, she could feel him, and the fervent promise that followed, everywhere. All over. “Until my last sunrise, dream girl.”