45. Helen
HELEN
I’m starting this morning feeling like I’ve been out all night. Except I didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been asleep for hours, yet my body feels drugged rather than rested.
And then there’s the other problem. I’m so damn horny it’s ridiculous, and nothing can make it go away.
I only found out I was pregnant yesterday, but this looks to be how my body handles early pregnancy.
No morning sickness. No fainting spells.
Just this unquenchable need and relentless exhaustion.
All of which I’m enduring while trapped on a conference call that’s been running for an hour, and counting. “No, I understand,” I say, keeping my voice even. “But the whole point is that the dogs look like themselves.”
On the other end, Diane sighs. She’s a new client Summit Tail sent my way, and a different beast entirely. “I just worry the fur is reading…messy.”
“It’s fur,” I say, as gently as I can manage. “It moves.”
“Yes, but can we smooth it? Maybe use a stronger brush? A little product?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose to counter the throbs. I’ve already moved the reshoot to the afternoon and told her I needed technical prep time. That part wasn’t entirely a lie. I just didn’t explain that the technical issue is my hormones mutinying.
“We can do light grooming,” I say. “But if we over-style them, they won’t look comfortable. And the moment they don’t look comfortable, the audience doesn’t trust the brand.”
Another call vibrates through my palm.
I ignore it.
“And what about the background?” she presses. “The park feels ordinary, don’t you think? Can we make it look more premium?”
The phone vibrates again.
I pull it slightly away from my ear and glance at the screen.
Liam.
Decline.
The vibration returns almost immediately.
Maximilian Hunt.
“What the heck?”
“Sorry?” Diane says.
“Nothing. Just reviewing something,” I reply smoothly, switching back. “About the park—”
Max rings again. I decline again.
Nice try. Liam must’ve summoned his brother to do the softer approach. Max is charming, and under normal circumstances I’d enjoy talking to him. We get on well, but right now I don’t need charm.
Diane is still talking when the phone buzzes again.
Liam.
Relentless.
My patience thins.
“Diane,” I interrupt gently, “we’ve covered the major elements. I’ll send you a revised mood board within the hour. If anything feels off once you see it in context, we’ll pivot.”
“All right,” she says finally. “But I want options.”
“You’ll have them.”
We hang up.
My head is still buzzing from everything. The pregnancy. Diane’s endless revisions. Liam’s calls. Max’s calls. And something else that has nothing to do with this morning but won’t loosen its grip.
I may be rejecting his calls right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m done. There’s something I need to say. I can’t let myself believe Liam will want anything to do with this baby—or that I should let myself want anything to do with him—until he answers one question.
I open my messages and start typing.
Cowards take the money and leave. Sounds familiar? Well, guess what, Liam Hunt, I’m not your bet. I’m not your anything. You’re the freaking coward.
My finger hovers over send.
I should know by now that overeager fingers and a phone don’t mix. Much as I loathe him right now, that message goes too far. I erase it and start again.
Cowards take the money and leave. Sounds familiar? Liam Hunt, I’m not your bet. But there’s something I need to
Alaska barks.
Before I can react, my bedroom door swings open.
“Helen!”
“Victor? Get out!”
He steps inside, composed but not casual, as though he’s been walking fast.
“Helen, before you get mad at me—”
“Did Anna let you in again?”
“No. The door was open. I’m sorry. This is urgent.”
“What did I tell you? We’re over. You have no right coming here!”
“My contact in Mexico says there’s been an accident.”
Something cold slides through my chest. “What about Mexico?”
“Olivia is there, right?”
“How do you—”
“Anna mentioned she was going. You think you’re the only one who worries about her?”
He doesn’t move closer or try to crowd me. He just stands there, his voice even. “You and I may not be what we were,” he continues, “but I still care about you and Olivia. That hasn’t changed.”
My thoughts feel foggy.
“She’s in Tijuana,” I say automatically.
“She was,” he replies. “A group of American girls were in a crash outside the city. My associate picked it up through embassy chatter.”
“What accident?”
“Details are still murky,” he says. “They’re trying to confirm identities and location. It seems to have happened somewhere inland. If they’ve been taken anywhere by now, it would be the nearest hospital. The question is which one.”
“No, this can’t be.” I grab my phone and call Olivia.
Voicemail.
I call again.
Straight to voicemail.
I try Pru, her best friend.
Nothing.
Another friend.
Nothing.
“Please,” Victor says. “You know I wouldn’t play about this.”
I call Olivia again. Still unanswered.
My head feels hotter now. The faint pressure behind my eyes sharpening into something more focused.
“What do you actually know?” I ask.
“Only that there’s confusion on the ground. And that I can get us there faster than commercial.”
I look up sharply. “Us?”
“I’ve prepared a jet.”
I stare at him. “You have a jet?”
A self-satisfied smile touches his mouth. “My business may be taking a hit right now, but I still have assets I haven’t converted to cash. I won’t hesitate to use them for family—for you, for Olivia.”
“Why hasn’t anyone called me?”
“If they don’t have confirmed identities, they won’t start contacting next of kin. Bureaucracy takes time.”
Time. Every second suddenly feels like something slipping away from me.
“I need to call someone,” I say, suddenly aware of Alaska pressing against my legs. “I can’t just leave her here.”
“Anna will take care of her.”
I cringe.
“Maybe. But—”
“Helen,” he says gently, “if Olivia is hurt, the sooner we’re there, the better.”
My mind keeps trying to make sense of it. But I don’t have time for that. Olivia is not waking up in a foreign hospital without me.
“Okay,” I decide. “Let me pack.”
He steps back immediately, giving me space.
I move through the room quickly. Passport. Charger. Loose clothes. Essentials. When I bend to zip the bag, dizziness washes over me briefly and I steady myself on the bed.
Don’t stress, the baby can feel it.
I call Jenna.
“Yeah, no problem. I’ll dogsit Alaska,” she says right away. “Like when you were shooting in Florida. I’m nearby. I’ll only be a sec.”
“Thank you.”
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s Olivia. There’s been an accident in Mexico.”
“Oh my God. Don’t worry about Alaska. Is someone with you?”
I glance toward the hallway where Victor waits.
“Yes,” I answer after a second. “An old friend.”
“Okay. Good.”
I hang up and kneel to hold Alaska’s face.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. “Be good.”
When I step into the hall, Victor takes my bag without comment. A taxi is already waiting outside the door.
The drive to the airport stretches through dense traffic. Victor mentions half of New York is at a standstill after two major accidents. Ours is heavy but moving.
At the private terminal, staff move me through without lines or delay, and the jet waits on the tarmac. I pause at the bottom of the stairs and glance at my phone.
For a second, I hesitate.
Victor notices.
No matter what, Liam needs to know I’m going.
I tap his name.
It goes straight to voicemail.
“Liam. It’s me. Something happened to Olivia. There’s been an accident in Mexico. Tijuana. I’m heading there now.” I swallow. “Call me back.”
“Come on,” Victor says. “We need to go.”
“Maybe I should text him too…” I pull up my messages.
“I’ll forward him whatever details I receive,” he replies. “So he knows where we are.”
“Okay. Thanks, Jag.”
He smiles, almost boyish. “Have I told you I prefer that to Victor?”
“Don’t push it,” I say, though a hint of a smile catches at my mouth.
The engines begin to stir as soon as we step inside. I’m fastening my lap belt when a soft whoosh comes from my pocket.
That wasn’t a new message. It was one being sent.
I pull the phone out. The draft is gone.
Sent.
The aircraft lurches gently as we taxi. No Wi-Fi. No signal. No undo.
Victor glances back at me. “Everything all right?”
I lock the screen and reply, “Yes.”