Chapter 29 I Guess I Got Myself a Roommate
i guess i got myself a roommate
HAYDEN
Riley’s skin glows beneath the summer sun, her eyes bright and gleeful. She’s in a simple white tee, light blue jeans, and golden sandals. Twirling one blue lock of hair around her finger, she stares at a little orange dog perched on an old lady’s knees two tables away on the café’s terrace.
“So…are we keeping the news from our families for now?” I ask. It’s like walking on thin ice. One wrong step, and I’ll end up in frigid water. I don’t want to offend her, but there are things we need to discuss.
She nods, focusing on me. “Yeah. I think that would be best. When they find out, we’ll never hear the end of it.”
I chuckle. “We’ll have to tell them eventually.”
She sighs. “Let’s wait a month—or two.”
I tip my head. “Okay. Do you want to tell Nastya sooner? That would give you someone to talk to.”
She bites her bottom lip. “If that’s okay with you, yeah.”
“Whatever you need, Ry.” I pick up my tea and watch her as I take a sip.
Her attention strays to the dog again. It’s like a small cloud of fur, with beady eyes and a foxy face. Does she like it?
“Um, I talked to my manager. He’s going to help keep the news under wraps. If my fans find out, it’ll be chaos. You’ll be put on blast, and every aspect of your life will be under a magnifying glass.”
Shivering, she clasps the pendant dangling from her necklace.
“Yeah. I’d love to avoid that if possible.
I saw the way the media treated Piper and Hunter.
I’ve seen the way you and your bandmates can be hounded.
I don’t think I could handle that. Plus, if the news did get out, people would come out of the woodwork to share stories about me, and I doubt they would be kind. ”
My stomach drops. Does that have anything to do with why she stopped dancing? That comment, paired with her wanting to end her life because of pressure and expectations, spikes my anxiety. I want to help her, but to do that, I need to know what happened.
“Did you—”
“What did you tell your manager?”
I blink at the abrupt change in subject, but I allow it. After our argument last night, when she accused me of lying to her, she probably has no desire to be honest with me about her ballet career anyway.
“I told him I got someone pregnant.”
Her eyes flare, and she grimaces.
Shit. I suppose my choice of words leaves much to be desired.
I lurch forward, eager to fix my blunder. “He was worried it was a fan, so of course, I told him who you are. He’s met Piper several times, so he knows who we are to each other.”
Blue irises dark, she scrutinizes me. “And who are we to each other?”
Fuck me. I cornered myself with my big mouth, didn’t I?
“You’re Piper’s sister. You’re my friend. And you’re the mother of my child.”
“Sounds about right.” She bites her bottom lip and peers over at the little dog again.
I gulp my iced tea, but the cold liquid does nothing to dampen the fire raging in my lower abdomen. Her closeness is my worst enemy. I want to hold her, to touch her, to taste her…I want it all with her. But I can’t have it. I have to keep my distance.
She’s not my savior.
She’s not the cure for my depression and grief.
I have no right to use her to make myself feel better.
“I’m meeting Nastya for lunch.” Her words bring me back to reality. “Once I have my keys, I’ll be out of your hair.”
My heart sinks. My limbs feel weighed down. “You’re planning to go back to your apartment?”
Her lips form a little O, her expression one of surprise. “Of course I’m going back to my apartment. The whole point of hiring a cleaning service was so I could live there again.”
“But that was before you…”
Her surprised look turns into one of annoyance.
“Before I knew I was pregnant. Yes, I’m pregnant with your child.
” She pushes away from the table, relaxing her back against the chair.
“But that doesn’t mean I should stay with you.
That I should live in your penthouse. You said it yourself: we are friends, Hade. Not a couple.”
“I just thought—”
“You thought wrong.” She sneaks a glance at the older woman. The smile she gives the little dog makes me jealous. What’s so fucking special about that thing?
“Do you like that dog?”
She nods, dragging her eyes back to me. “I’m obsessed with Pomeranians. They’re so cute.”
“You should get one. Why haven’t you already?”
“Pets aren’t allowed in my building.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe one day.”
She fixes her pendant, and I narrow my eyes at it. I don’t think I’ve seen it before. It’s a small blue flower with little diamonds around the edges. Is it a forget-me-not?
“Something new?” I nod at her neck.
“It’s from Nastya. She knows how much I love forget-me-nots, so she asked her sister to buy it for me in Minsk.”
“Can I?” I reach forward but pause an inch from her throat. “I saw flowers like this when we were on tour in Europe. Your eyes are the same color.”
Those gorgeous blue eyes sparkle as she leans in, pulling her pendant forward so I can look at it more closely.
Each of the flower’s petals curves gently, as if caught in a light breeze.
In the center, a golden bead perfectly contrasts the blue enamel and little diamonds around it.
It’s elegant and beautiful, and it suits Riley to a tee.
“I’ll keep in mind that they’re your favorites.”
She lets out a small huff, as if she doesn’t believe me.
Jaw clenched, I will myself not to argue with her, not to defend myself. She doesn’t trust me, and I can’t blame her. I have to put in the work to prove to her she can count on me.
“I actually love just about any kind of flower. I always have a bouquet at home.” She fiddles with her pendant. “But blue flowers are my favorites.”
I lean back, grinning at her. “Figures. Goddess of flowers and all that.”
A short laugh bubbles out of her. “Goddess of flowers?”
“Uh-huh.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Persephone’s got nothing on you.”
She blinks, and the air between us shifts, grows thick. “You know she wasn’t just flowers, right? She was the goddess of spring growth.”
“And queen of the underworld too.” I cock a brow and smirk.
She rolls her eyes, though her lips tip up. Then, she checks her phone and clears her throat. “We better go. I need to get my things from your place before I meet Nastya for lunch.”
A sharp pain pierces my heart, and bitterness fills my mouth. All the playfulness disappears. I hate the idea of her leaving, but I need to respect her wishes.
So, I stand and pick up both of our cups before I guide her toward the car.
It’s been a week since our visit to Dr. Bell, a week since I last saw Riley.
We’ve texted, nothing more, and I’m dying to see her. So, I begged her to have lunch with me this afternoon.
At ten, Glenn’s name flashes on my phone. I’m not in the mood, and I want to finish my coffee, so I contemplate letting it go to voicemail. But with a sigh, I answer, “Hey.”
“The word is out.” Glenn’s words are sharp, cutting through me like a knife slicing cake.
My pulse spikes. “What word?”
“About the pregnancy.”
Every muscle in my body locks up tight. I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “Anything about the mother?”
“Not yet.”
Those two words send me spiraling. The media was relentless after Owen’s suicide, and I know this news will be like a fucking explosion.
“I’m sending you an email with a list of outlets running the story,” Glenn continues. “Brace yourself, Hade. Paparazzi are going to be hounding you, and if they find out who the girl is, they won’t leave her alone either.”
Riley…
I slip my fingers into my hair, tugging at the roots. This is a fucking nightmare. She doesn’t want attention. She wants to avoid being in the public eye. The mere thought of cameras flashing in her face makes me want to put my fist through the wall.
“I’ll handle it,” I grind out, heading to my bedroom to change my clothes. There’s no way I’m waiting for our lunch date. “Thanks.”
“Anything you need—just let me know.”
I hang up without saying goodbye and call Wyatt, pacing my walk-in closet like a caged animal. “Hey. How fast can you meet me in the underground garage?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Avoid the front, please. The press is probably sniffing around.”
“Yes, sir.” The confidence in his tone makes it easier to breathe. I trust this guy with my life. I can’t count the number of times he’s saved me from unwanted attention.
I put on a black hoodie and pull on a cap then take the elevator to the garage, where Wyatt is already waiting. The hum of the SUV vibrates through me, my pulse hammering. Once I slide into the back seat, he looks over his shoulder, his dark brown eyes assessing me.
“You were right. The crowd is already gathering.”
I rock in my seat slightly, my shoulders curling forward. “Fuck. We need to leave, fast.”
He nods and shifts into gear. “Where to?”
“To Riley’s.”
He eases out of the garage, turning away from the crowd.
I risk a look out the dark-tinted window, though I stay low.
Anger and anxiety sweep over me. Why did I think we had a shot at keeping this hidden?
Gossip blogs and even a few newspapers published pictures of Owen’s hotel room just a few hours after his death.
His parents found out because of the fucking media.
No one cared about Owen, about his family, his bandmates.
They wanted profit. They wanted clicks. They wanted fucking traction.
They’ve left me alone for the last couple of months. I’ve mostly been locked in my penthouse, living a life that’s far too boring for them.
But hiding out after my friend’s death, only to end up getting a girl pregnant? That’s a fucking sensation.
They don’t care about the truth or how their actions affect the people they post about.
They want headlines. They’ll twist stories and sprinkle them with lies and assumptions.
To them, we aren’t people. We’re headlines.
A story to be sold. I’ve lived inside this circus for years—my skin is fucking thick.
But Riley? She doesn’t deserve this, and I’ll do everything I can to minimize the damage and protect her because I know exactly how low these people can go.
The plan forms in my head quickly. It’s the only way for me to be there for her like I promised. To be there for our baby. I can only hope she’ll agree.
I pull my buzzing phone from my pocket and find my mom’s name on the screen. Surely, she already read the news.
I don’t answer. Riley is my priority now.
Dad calls, then Hunter. I ignore them both, but when Piper’s name flashes on my screen, my heart twitches. She’s my best friend, though I can’t remember the last time I talked to her openly. Before Owen died, that’s for sure. There’s no way I’m reverting to that now.
I put my phone on silent and slip it back into my pocket. All these conversations can wait. They can think I’m being an asshole. I don’t give a flying fuck. This isn’t about them.
Wyatt stops around the corner from Riley’s place. I pull my cap lower, draw my hood up over it, and climb out of my car. Head low, I hurry into her building, praying no one sees me. If even one person photographs me, it won’t take them long to connect the dots.
I knock three times then wait, foot tapping, for her to answer.
“Hayden?” Riley’s eyes round as she opens the door for me. She’s in a light blue off-the-shoulder summer dress. “We aren’t meeting until twelve thirty. What are you doing here?”
I push inside her apartment without waiting for her to invite me in. I shut the door quickly. “Hi. Sorry—something came up, and I changed my plans.”
“I think you mean to say our plans.” She folds her arms over her chest. “What happened? You look like you’ve just been hit with bad news.”
Oh, how accurate she is.
“Someone leaked the pregnancy news,” I blurt. I don’t have the wherewithal to soften the blow. “Your name isn’t out yet, but the paparazzi are already outside my building. I didn’t want you to find out from the internet, so here I am.”
Her face drains of color as she takes a step back. “I don’t—” She presses a hand to her stomach, her shoulders drooping. “I don’t want public attention. I—”
She snaps her mouth shut and bolts for the bathroom.
I follow and crouch beside her on the floor as she leans over the toilet. I collect her hair and pull it back, then rub her back in gentle circles.
When her body convulses under my palm, my heart pinches. She’s small and fragile beside me, and I feel so damn helpless.
Eventually, she slumps back, her breathing faltering. “Can you…bring me some…w-water?”
I dart to the kitchen, and when I return, she sips the water slowly.
“Did they see you leave your penthouse?” she asks hoarsely.
“No. And I don’t think anyone saw me when I got here.”
“Okay, that’s good.” She fixes her focus on me, pressing her hand to her stomach. “After today, you can’t come here anymore. No one should know we’re close.”
“Close?” I rear back like I’ve been slapped. “I’m sorry, Ry, but you’re pregnant with my child. This is a thousand times more serious than us just being close.”
She frowns. “And what do you suggest we do?”
“You’re not doing this alone.” I take her hands. “Move in with me.”
Her only response is a scoff.
“I can keep you safe,” I plead, “but only if you stay close. If I start showing up here regularly, the media will catch on, and they’ll find you within minutes.”
“I don’t like it,” she mutters, her voice defeated.
I move closer and hug her to my chest. “Trust me, I know. But your safety and the safety of our baby come first. It doesn’t have to be forever. We can find a new place for you, somewhere closer to me, with better security. Maybe even in my building.”
She leans away, and her eyes search mine. Finally, she nods. “Okay. But you need to leave now. I can’t show up at your place with you. I’ll call Nastya. She’ll help me pack, and her husband can drop me off later.”
“Please let me help too. Then I promise I’ll leave.”
She takes a deep breath and nods.
Well, I guess I got myself a roommate.