Chapter 5
CAMERON
TWO WEEKS LATER
I wake up to Edison's wet tongue dragging across my face like sandpaper. My head pounds like a bass drum at sound check.
The morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows feels like silver daggers.
"Jesus, Eddie."
I push my black Lab away, but he whines and paws at my chest urgently. His tail isn't wagging. This isn't playful morning energy. This is desperation.
It takes a minute, then last night's club comes flooding back to me. The afterparty. Too many whiskeys. The endless parade of faces wanting selfies.
I need water. Coffee. And from the way Edison's yipping at me, he needs to be taken out for a potty break. Badly.
"Okay, Ed, I'll call the hotel reception desk and have Max take you out.”
As soon as Edison hears the name "Max," he yelps a sharp reprimand. Which means my dog doesn't want a replacement walker. Even though Max is the one with the bribery biscuits.
I rub my temples. “No, buddy. Not this morning.”
A groan escapes my lips as my head continues its pounding beat. I reach for the bottle of water the housekeeping staff always leaves on my bedside table.
My phone beeps so loudly it nearly vibrates off the nightstand. I grab it, struggling to focus on the caller ID. Radha Kumar. My attorney.
"What's this? Why are you calling so early?" I say without preamble.
"Cameron, I'm downstairs in your lobby. We need to talk.”
I squint at my watch through the pounding in my skull. It's 11 a.m. on a Sunday. Very early by rockstar standards. "Can we meet later today?" But even as I speak the words, I'm curious why she's asking to meet me instead of scheduling an appointment as she usually does.
"It's important, Cameron. I really need to talk to you. Now.”
Edison barks sharply, his bladder apparently reaching critical mass. "Okay, buddy." I gesture for him to be quiet. Ridiculous. As if a dog understands gestures. But he gets it somehow.
"All right," I tell Radha. "I'll have reception send you up.”
"Okay.”
Once I finish the call, I breathe deeply and dial the reception desk to send Max up for Edison's walk and to escort Radha to my penthouse. Thirty seconds later, I'm in the shower, letting the scalding water pound some life back into my skull.
I towel off and slip into one of the fluffy white bathrobes the hotel provides, complete with the gold Mandarin Oriental insignia.
When the doorbell rings, I see them both through the peephole: Max in his crisp white bellman uniform trimmed in gold, and Radha wearing a high-end Armani pantsuit that shows off her slim, yet curvy figure.
When I open the door, Max gives me a polite nod and clips on Edison’s leash. My dog shoots me one last betrayed look before following Max down the hall.
I step aside to let Radha into my sanctuary of white marble and minimalist furniture.
"You look to be in serious mode," I say, closing the door behind her.
"I'm always in serious mode.”
Most international rockstars don't hire young, beautiful lawyers, especially strictly religious ones who might cast disapproving gazes at their personal activities. But Radha's the best, and she keeps my messy life organized.
I usher Radha into my living room with its floor-to-ceiling views of Manhattan and white-on-white furniture. The space is stark, minimalist – twenty million dollars of real estate that feels more like a high-end hotel suite than a home.
"Should I call room service for coffee?"
"Thank you, that's unnecessary," she says, settling onto the white leather sofa with the practiced grace of someone who spends her days in boardrooms.
"Cameron, I have something very serious to talk to you about.”
"What is it?" I'm not very worried about bad news. Both my parents have been dead for years, and though I'm close with a few friends, I keep most people at arm's length.
What could possibly be the issue?
"Look, Cameron. Something happened five years ago. And that's what I'm here to talk to you about today.”
That immediately puts my antenna on high alert. Lots of things happened five years ago.
Hell, lots of things happened last night. Who is going to crawl out of the woodwork to bite me in the ass?
"All right. What is it?"
She takes a breath. I sense she's steeling herself for whatever bomb she's about to drop.
"Cameron, you have a daughter. Her name is Posey, and along with her uncle, you're her only living relative.”
The words hit me like a gut punch.
The hangover suddenly feels like nothing compared to the ringing in my ears.
A daughter. A tiny human who materialized from a forgotten night.
My meticulously chaotic, self-centered world, built on freedom and fleeting pleasures, just shattered.
"I don't have a daughter." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. The thought is terrifying and utterly overwhelming, all at once. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you know the name Alice Abernathy?"
"No," I say, but even as the word leaves my mouth, something flickers in the back of my mind. A face? A night? Nothing concrete—just a faint, disorienting echo. A flash of blonde hair. Nothing distinctive. Just another nameless face from a blur of club nights.
Did we hook up during an after-party? A festival? The sheer volume of fleeting connections makes it almost impossible to single one out.
The thought of a specific name attached to one of those nights feels like trying to grab smoke.
"How old is the baby now?" I ask, trying to narrow down a time frame.
"Not quite a baby. She's four years old.”
"Where is she? Why is this woman coming to me now? Does she want money?"
"No. She's gone — died in a hiking accident not long after Posey was born."
I pause, trying to take it all in.
"The reason I'm here today is that her own parents perished in a helicopter crash last week. They had been raising her. Posey's birth certificate was found. It listed you as the father.”
I'm too stunned to respond. "Without question, I'm the father?"
Radha pauses. She looks at me a long moment. "All we know is what the birth certificate says.”
"Anyone can name a man as the father," I say.
I can't quite read the expression on Radha's face, but she doesn't seem to be proud of the way I'm taking this news.
"Look, if I'm really her father, I'll step up to the situation."
"Glad you feel that way. Because that's exactly what you must do. Posey is alone at her grandparents' house in Nantucket with only her nanny and staff."
"You're suggesting we pick her up and take her back to New York?" I look around my pristine living room. No place for a four-year-old. "To this place?"
"Of course, Cameron. You're her father. She has no one else. I bought airline tickets. We just need to take a cab to the airport.”
"What happens if I don't claim her?"
Radha gives me another one of her looks. This one, darker than the first.
"Likely she'd go into foster care. Or a guardian will be appointed for her until she's of age.”
"The child's uncle doesn't want her?"
Radha’s silent for a moment. “I’m sure he does. But his parents disowned him years ago and cut him out of their will. From my elementary research, he has no claim on the estate or Posey. But we’ll find out more when we get to Nantucket.”
“I don’t understand …”
“Alice came from a wealthy family. Millions of dollars, Cameron. Properties, investments, trust funds. This isn't about a penniless orphan. There's serious money involved."
I run my hands through my hair, still damp from the shower.
"Cameron, I know it's early morning for you. But the first step is to get on that plane to Nantucket. I'll wait here while you get ready. We'll leave when you're dressed.”
A million thoughts fly through me at once. Airport. Nantucket. What to do with Edison when I’m gone. But then again, when I'm on tour, the staff always walks and feeds him.
Even though Nantucket is a short flight away and I could be back this afternoon, I’ll need Edison with me for emotional support.
"All right," I say, heading into my bedroom to change. "We'll leave as soon as Edison gets back from his walk."