Chapter Twenty-Seven
“HOW BAD IS it?” I ask. In front of me is the Los Angeles skyline—hazy brown and blue—from Syd’s conference room window. Behind me, the seats around the table are occupied by my manager, Chase, Courtney, and my lawyer, Jackson.
“It’s not good, chief,” Chase says in a low voice. “Twitter, or whatever it’s called, has blown up.”
“They’re not loving you for the timing,” Courtney says slowly. “Rowan is taking a lot of heat too. Homewrecker vibes.”
I flinch. There was no home to wreck, but who needs facts when you have click-bait?
“Maybe I’m too old, but I don’t understand why anyone’s mad,” Syd puts in. “Why is everyone assuming that you’re…well, that you’re—”
“The father?” I say without turning, the word like a knife in my chest.
“Er, yes.”
“Implied correlations and how The Scandal Sheet is worded,” Courtney explains. “The public has seen Zach and Eva together at the Oscars splashed over every magazine and online site for the last nine weeks, and she hasn’t been linked with anyone since. So, there’s a perception. And while Eva doesn’t come out and say it, the alleged backlash points to Zach as the…um, responsible party. So now there’s actual backlash.”
“ Alleged backlash? Those quotes weren’t real?” Jackson gives a low whistle. “That’s some bullshit.”
“I don’t see how they can get away with manufacturing these outrageous leaps in logic,” Syd grumbles. “How do we even know she’s pregnant?”
“We don’t,” Courtney says, and then the room goes silent.
The weight of expectation—of questions that only I can answer—falls heavily on my shoulders while humiliation burns through my veins like molten glass. Because I don’t have answers. Because I was drunk and blacked out and don’t know what Eva did or didn’t do to me.
To be a father, I think. I’ve always wanted to be one, someday, but not like this. Fucking hell, not like this.
I turn and it’s like facing the world’s most compassionate firing squad. My team all wear the same expressions of concern mixed with delicate curiosity. My options: tell the truth or lie and say I knowingly— willingly —slept with Eva on Oscar night.
Or I could hurl myself out the window and save us all the headache.
I turn to Jackson. My lawyer looks like a movie star himself in a blue suit and yellow paisley tie. “Has she reached out to you about any of this?”
“I talked to her recently, but not about this particular subject,” he says. “She’s making noise about the sale of the house. She wants a cut.”
Unsurprising. And the least of my worries. I look to Chase. “Is this going to screw the deal with Paramount and No Man’s Land ?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Chase demurs. “But it’s not great. Your reputation is impeccable. I’d hate to see this kind of thing tarnish it.”
I imagine his unspoken questions: Did you do the tarnishing? Did “the internet’s boyfriend” fuck Eva, knock her up, then kick her out of the house in order to immediately move on with another woman?
“Zach?”
I break from my thoughts. “What do you think, Courtney? Do we have to respond?”
“Without more information, I don’t see any upside to responding,” My publicist says, tossing a long length of dark hair over her shoulder and peering at me through black-framed glasses. “I feel we have two options: we can wait it out, take the chance that she’s not pregnant—”
“Would she lie about something like that?” Syd cuts in.
“Yes,” I say instantly. “She’s a narcissist and a sociopath. Even if she’s telling the truth, it’s a fucked-up game to her.”
The people around the table exchange looks; this is all news to them, as I’d done my best to not trash talk Eva to anyone.
No good deed goes unpunished, I think, and glance away from Syd’s concerned gaze. “What’s the other option?”
“If she is pregnant and claims you’re the father, we could get seven more months of her writing the narrative. In either case, I recommend reaching out to her. Clearing the air, before we make any response.”
Which is exactly what Eva wants. Ignoring her only makes her angrier, and God knows what she’d do or say if she got angrier. I can take it, but she’d ruin Rowan’s career. She’s already begun to paint her as a villain. I have to get to Eva quick, stop the blood flow before it’s too late.
And just how the fuck do you think you’re going to do that? Reason with her?
The idea nearly makes me laugh. I scrub my face with both hands. “I’ll go see her. Jackson, let her know immediately that I want a face-to-face.”
“You got it.”
“Where is she, anyway?”
“Florida. In Miami, in meetings with Rob Melvin about Hellbent, the Godsent spinoff.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go to Miami. Thanks, all. We’re done here. Syd, can I have a word?”
They all rise except for my manager, and Jackson slides a set of keys across the table. “Before I forget. The house is yours. I’ll text you the security code.”
“Right. Thanks.”
Yesterday, before the shit hit the fan, I’d toured a place in the Trousdale Estates and made an offer to rent. It’s smaller than the house in the Hills, but still plenty big, and feels homier. Like a place I could settle down in. It’s amazing how much has changed since I had that feeling and now.
My team files out but for Syd. When the door is closed, he folds his hands on the desk. “I notice you didn’t put this whole thing to rest by saying it’s impossible for you to be the father.”
“Because I don’t know, Syd,” I say, and let out a breath. “The truth is, I don’t know what happened on Oscar night with Eva. I was blackout drunk, so yes, it’s possible she’s pregnant and it’s mine.”
“Did you want to reconcile with her that night?”
“Fuck no. We had a fight. She got physical, as usual. The next thing I know, I’m waking up beside her and she’s all lovey-dovey. So, you can see how fucked I am. If I told Chase and everyone the truth, they might think nothing of it—that I can get laid even in my sleep. Or…”
“Or they’d know it was wrong,” Syd says quietly. “Like I do.”
“It might change their perception of me entirely. I’d have to face them with that degradation always hanging between us.”
“But you don’t mind that with me?”
“Because I don’t think it would change your perception of me. Am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong, my boy, because you’d have nothing to be ashamed of. You know that, right?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what happened. Maybe nothing.” I smile wanly. “Guess I’m about to find out.”
I rise from my chair and start to head for the door. Syd says nothing for a moment, then gets up and stops me with a hug.
“You’re good kid, Zach. It hurts my old heart to think of anything untoward happening to you. Ever. Or that sweet girl, Rowan. You seem so happy with her.”
I hug him back. “I am. She’s a gift and I want to give her everything good. Not this bullshit.”
“You’ll get there, I have faith.” Syd thumps me on the back, then let’s go. “Be safe on your trip. If you need anything, I’m a phone call away.”
“Thanks, Syd,” I say. “I appreciate you more than I can say.”
Because what I don’t say is that he’s like a surrogate father to me. Someone I can unburden myself to without worrying my actual father. No sooner does the thought enter my mind than I get a text from Jeremy.
Zach???
Shit. I get in the elevator going down to the lobby. Have Mom or Dad seen it?
They don’t read that crap or any tabloid. But it’s all out there. Is it true?
I’ll touch base in a few days. Are you still home?
Yes. And you didn’t answer my question.
Try to keep them offline if you can. I’ll explain everything later.
There’s a pause, then: I’ll try. Damn, Zach. I’m going to be so happy if I’m an uncle but also so fucking pissed at you because we’ll be stuck with Eva forever.
Christ, he’s right. If Eva’s pregnant with my child, then I’ll be chained to her for the rest of my life. I wanted to cut her off for good, but instead I might have to be in communication weekly, if not daily—endless arguments over visitation, holidays, and school events; dealing with her outbursts and tantrums; potentially needing to protect my kid from his or her own mother.
“Fucking kill me now,” I mutter, and lean my head against the cool metal wall of the elevator.
I have to remind myself I’m not there yet. This might all be bullshit.
Or it might be the rest of my life.
At the house in the Trousdale Estates, I wander the empty rooms. It may feel warmer and less sparse than the previous one, but it’s still huge with stunning views of the city. Five bedrooms, seven bathrooms. I don’t know why I need seven bathrooms, but I can have family over. Friends.
My kid, on the days I have custody.
“Let’s not,” I mutter, and lie down on the floor in the empty living room and shoot Rowan at text.
I’m at the new house. Might buy it. Want to come look?
Because maybe she’ll love it and want to move in with me. Or maybe she’s decided this is all too much. Being torn apart online, her career in the hands of my psychotic ex…
“I’d leave me too.”
Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the front door that I’d left unlocked.
“Zach?”
“In here.”
Rowan approaches and stares down at me, hands on hips. She’s wearing jeans, white sneakers, and a green top. No black anymore; she’s in full Technicolor. I’m fucking crazy in love with her, and it might all be on the verge of imploding.
“What are we doing on the floor?” she asks and sits down cross-legged.
“I’m mentally planning how to furnish the house. Want to help?”
“Sure.”
Rowan lies down beside me. For a few moments, there’s silence as we lie still. Then our hands find each other’s and hold on, fingers entwined.
“This is bad.”
“Yes,” she says. “But it’ll pass.”
“Sure. Maybe in eighteen years,” I say with a sigh. “When I rented this house, I had the thought that it would be a great place for both of us. I was going to ask you to move in with me.”
“You were?”
I nod. “But now I might have a kid… Christ.” I turn to look at her. “Why are you still here?”
“I asked you that when I was crying my guts out, remember?” Rowan says, “so I’ll say the same thing to you that you said to me. Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“I have to go see her tomorrow,” I say. “In Miami. To…I don’t know. See what’s real and what’s bullshit. Try to keep her from messing up your life too.”
“I told you, you don’t have to—”
“And I’m telling you that if I can do anything to protect your career, I’m going to do it,” I say sternly. “It’s the least fucking thing I can do.”
Rowan’s quiet for a moment, and then she curls into me, her leg over my hip, head on my shoulder, arm on my chest. “I hate that you have to go so far away. That you have to do this at all, but maybe having it out with her will help somehow.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But if it doesn’t, and it all gets to be too much, I’ll understand.”
Rowan raises her head, frowning. “Understand what?”
“If you don’t want to put up with this shit. I wouldn’t blame you.”
She sniffs dismissively, and curls against me tighter. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”
For some reason, that simple declaration hits me harder than a big flowery speech.
My girl doesn’t do big flowery speeches.
I wrap my arms around her, press a kiss into her hair. “In that case, come live with me.”
“Do you really want that?”
“More than anything. If you’re going to ride this crazy train with me, you should at least get a really nice view.”
She laughs lightly. “Ohhh, I’m going to have the worst panic attack later.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s okay. It’s just part of the deal. Ten years’ worth of repressed guilt, regret, and grief has to come out. But I’m seeing my therapist tomorrow. I’m going to get through it, just like you’re going to get through it.” Rowan raises up on her elbow and strokes my cheek. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Zach. You’ve made my life a thousand times better. And if it turns out you’re a father, I have zero doubt you’ll be the best dad a kid could hope for.”
She leans close. Her mouth is sweet and soft, and she sighs into my kiss before nestling her face in my neck. We’re both quiet for a moment, the unknown future feeling like it’s hanging heavy in the room.
Or it’ll be whatever we make of it.
“This may sound wild,” Rowan says, “but I think this is where we put a couch.”
“And the dining room,” I say, “is where we’ll put a dining room table.”
“Where you’re going to come home to me, eat spaghetti, and tell me about your day.”
Goddamn…
I clench my jaw and hold her tighter, a newfound energy—and righteous anger—flooding me. To protect Rowan at all costs and to fight for this life we want. For a life we can build together.