Chapter 34 Baird
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
BAIRD
My stomach was sick with worry as I drove a silent Maia back to her place.
After Hilary’s phone call, we’d googled the article in question and sure enough, there it was, front-page headline in the same national tabloid that published the photo of me partying a few months ago.
Same fucking journo too. Craig Bennet. There was a picture of Maia from the campaign plastered on the front and then a picture of Maryanne Lewis, Maia’s mother, looking surprisingly well and not at all the haggard heroin addict Maia had described from her childhood.
The headline stated:
SOCIAL MEDIA SWEETHEART ABANDONED ME IN MY TIME OF NEED
The subhead: Maia MacLeod’s mum speaks out about her addiction and how her estranged daughter left her behind to fend for herself while she pursued fame and money.
The double spread article had more photos of Maia when she was a kid, more of Maryanne Lewis, and was just a bunch of bullshit that any moron could see through.
How does a kid abandon their heroin-addict parent?
She stated that Maia had left their home when she was fifteen to go live with her dad and that Maryanne had felt abandoned by her.
That she was clean now and working to help other people get sober.
She said she was shocked to see Maia online and it had brought back a lot of painful memories.
I fucking despised the woman, and I’d never met her.
“Not only did she sell a lie, but she got sober,” Maia whispered. “She got sober and … she never reached out. Instead, she sold a twisted version of events to the public.”
“Baby …” I reached over to squeeze her hand, but it was limp in mine.
Fear crawled through me at how distant she was.
“Even if she’s clean now … she … she hasn’t changed. She still cares more about herself than she ever cared about me. I can’t blame the addiction anymore. It’s her. She’s just a terrible fucking person.”
I didn’t know what to say because I knew deep down there wasn’t anything I could say to make it better, and I hated that.
I felt powerless in the worst way.
I’d driven Maia to Pennington’s, and her bosses Hilary and Christina were kind enough about the situation.
I’d wanted to wipe the smug smirk off that rat Becky’s face.
The marketing team had decided the best response was no response.
It seemed from the commentary online that most people weren’t buying the sob story, anyway.
A lot of people were on Maia’s side. But there were also a loud few calling Maia fake.
There were also a lot of arseholes using filthy language they’d never dare use in front of me as they suggested I dump Maia.
Becky took a wee bit too much satisfaction in relaying those comments.
“Enough,” I’d snapped at her. “We don’t need to know what people are saying.”
Her lips had pinched together in that sour way of hers. “Well, actually, we do need to know what the public response to this is and how damaging it is to our campaign and to the company.”
Maia had sat in shocked silence throughout the whole conversation, only murmuring agreements when asked to. “Maia isn’t her mum. Maia has nothing to do with her mum. Maia is a hardworking member of staff who has, quite frankly, given a lot to this company.”
“No one is saying she hasn’t,” Hilary assured me.
“And we’re grateful for the boost in sales Pennington’s has seen nationally because of the campaign.
We just needed to talk strategy and make sure we’re all on the same page.
Ultimately, we think we shouldn’t fan the flames by giving either Maia’s mother or the tabloids the satisfaction of a reaction. ”
Even though I knew that was smart, it didn’t mean I didn’t want to kill Craig Bennet for writing that article. Or Maia’s mum for hurting her. Again.
Maia’s phone had blown up with friends and family trying to contact her. Her dad and Grace were the only people she spoke to. It had been a quick call, and she’d promised to call them again when I got her home.
That could wait, though.
I parked on Hart Street and rounded the car to grab Maia’s hand as she got out.
“I’m okay,” she murmured, finally giving me a wee squeeze.
“Let’s get you inside, eh.” I locked up the car and held tight to her hand as we strode down the lane to her apartment building.
Once inside, I settled her on the couch, kneeling to help her out of her trainers.
“I’m fine.” She attempted to shove me off, but I insisted on helping.
Her tan cheeks were a concerning chalky color.
“I’ll make you some tea and toast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Just try to eat a wee something.” I marched into the kitchen and quickly made her a snack.
Maia looked at it like it was a pile of shite.
“Please.” I nudged the plate toward her.
On a heavy sigh, she took it and placed it beside her on the couch. She wrapped her palms around the hot mug and relaxed against the sofa, closing her eyes.
“I want to wake up from this nightmare,” she whispered.
“We’ll get through this, My. I promise.”
Before she could respond, my phone rang in my back pocket. It had been blowing up too. Callan and John had called to check in. So had Mum and Ains. I had a bunch of texts from friends and family and even from the gaffer, but I hadn’t looked at any of them.
My plan was to send the call to voicemail, but it was Brian. A text and a call? Bugger.
I groaned. “It’s the gaffer. I need to take it.”
Maia nodded. “Of course.”
I answered as I strolled out of the living room. “Everything all right?”
His gruff voice rumbled down the line. “I’m sorry to call bearing this news on such a shit day, McMillan, but we have a big fucking problem.”
I paused in Maia’s hallway. “What kind of problem?”
“Fred saw the article today about your fiancée. He also saw the response online, and he’s furious.”
Fuck! Fred Burbank had been the bane of my existence this year. I didn’t want Maia to overhear this conversation, so I stepped out of the flat. “Why is he furious about the article?”
“Because of how it looks to the club that his goalkeeper’s fiancée’s mother is a recovering junkie who sells private stories to tabloid newspapers.”
“This had nothing to do with Maia.”
“It’s her mother, Baird.”
“Only in the biological sense. Maia has no contact with her.”
The gaffer sighed. “I know it’s not her fault. But I warned you that you were on your last life with Fred. This is it. He’s done. He wants you to end your engagement to Maia, end this campaign immediately, or … fuck … we’ll have to reconsider your place at this club.”
Boiling rage flooded through me so fast and furious, I hung up before I said something I might regret.
“Fuck!” I gripped my hair in my hands, lowering to my haunches, taking in deep breaths to try to calm the hell down before I jumped in my car to annihilate someone. I just wasnae sure who I’d kill first—Maryanne, Craig Bennet, or Fred Fucking Burbank.
The hitch of a breath had me launching to my feet and whirling around.
Maia stood in the doorway, violet eyes shimmering with tears. A sob caught in her throat, and she forced out hoarsely, “I heard. And I won’t let you lose everything because of this.”
My heart lurched. “My—”
“Call him back. Tell him it’s over between us. This campaign has done enough damage. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bear.” Her voice broke on the last word as she swung the door shut in my face, the lock sliding aggressively into place.
It happened so fast, I didn’t have time to react.
No.
Fucking no way!
“Maia!” I jiggled the door handle, but it didn’t budge. “Maia, don’t! I’m not losing you over this!”
I heard her sob on the other side of the door and tears thickened in my throat. “Maia, open the door. Let me in. We can fix this.”
“I—I a-am fixing i-it. You-you d-deserve better t-than this. Than me.” She sobbed harder, and the sharp ache in my chest made me breathless.
Tears burned my eyes as I banged on the door. “Maia.” Her name caught on a sob, and I didn’t care if she could hear me crying. “Maia, I love you. Don’t do this. Don’t fuck this up and twist it in your head, baby. Don’t let her win.”
In answer, her crying grew quieter as she moved away from the door.
Panic suffused me. “Maia! Maia!” I pounded on the door, begging her to open up. I didn’t know how long I slammed on her front door before a voice cut through mine.
“Right, that’s enough!”
I whirled to find an older woman I’d never seen before standing in the doorway of the flat opposite.
Her hard expression softened at the sight of me with tears on my fucking cheeks. “Och, I see. Well, I’m sorry, lad, but if the lass doesn’t want you at her door, then you need to leave. Or I will call the police.” She pointedly had her mobile ready to go in her hand.
Wrath at her, at the whole fucking world, threatened to consume me. I wiped at my cheeks and forced myself to walk away.
Temporarily.
This wasn’t it.
There was no way a bunch of arseholes would interfere in our relationship.
But it wasn’t really them I was afraid of.
It was Maia’s demons.
That seed her mum planted in her mind all those years ago, the one she’d worked so hard to get over … only for this to happen and prove that bullshit was rooted deep.
Deep enough to stop what was growing between me and her.
My chest felt tight at the thought, even as I tried to convince myself that in twenty-four hours, once she’d calmed down, Maia would come back to me.
She had to.
I’d never get over it if I lost her.