Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 65643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Rowena sat back on her heels. Her face was carefully blank. “I support anything you do.”
“I’m going to keep it,” I said, firmer this time. I raised my head off the toilet seat and gathered my hair back with trembling fingers. The weight and texture was soothing somehow. I could do this. I didn’t need anyone to hold my hair back–or run their fingers through it. I could feel my determination and confidence swimming back. It was the same potent combination that had brought me to LA and carried me through auditions. It had been dormant for a while now. I’d made some mistakes, but I was still me.
“We can set up the third bedroom as a nursery,” Rowena offered, hope brightening her eyes.
I shook my head. I hated to disappoint her, but pregnant or not, I wasn’t staying in Denver. Motherhood was a new and unexpected vocation, but it didn’t mean I was giving up on my first love. I wanted to act badly enough to lie for it, to fight for it, to scheme and manipulate for it. Those tactics hadn’t worked out for me, but I wasn’t deterred. I would try new tactics. I wouldn’t hide from the press. I’d tell them the truth–what was mine to tell–and offer myself up for public dissection. And in return, maybe there would be a measure of forgiveness. I’d seen it happen before. It was trial by fire, but at least I would be on the witness stand.
“I’ll come back to LA,” Rowena redirected. She put her hands on her knees firmly and looked around the spacious bathroom as if sizing it up for auction.
“Mom.” I let go of my hair and reached out, putting my hands over hers. “It’s okay. I can do this.”
Her face reflected her doubt. “Honey, I think you can do anything, but motherhood isn’t something you want to do alone. It’s harder than you can imagine, especially if you’re building a career at the same time.”
“I’ll have help. And you can visit all the time, but your life is here.” Even though I’d largely spent the week burying my head in the sand, trying to avoid the spectacle of my life, it had been impossible not to notice how content my mom was here. She loved seeing my grandmother every other day. And she hadn’t come out and said so, but there was a man who called her every night. One who made her step out onto the front porch in the frigid subzero temperatures to talk with complete privacy. She came in, rosy cheeked, bright eyed, and teeth chattering.
She looked more alive here than she ever had in LA.
I imagined LA did the same for me. I was a shadow of myself here. A pale imitation of what I should be. My mom had seen that when I was a child and made about a million sacrifices to get me where I needed to be. Now it was my turn.
It was hard to convince her, but in the end, Rowena agreed to stay behind. The compromise was that she wouldn’t take a full-time position next year but would continue subbing so that she could come to LA on a moment’s notice if I needed her.
She cried when she drove me to the airport. “I’m not just putting my daughter on a plane; I’m putting my grandchild on one too,” she explained as she hugged me goodbye for several moments too long. I was twisted across the gearshift, the emergency brake jabbing through the quilted jacket I wore. I didn’t complain, though. It was one thing to tell my mom I didn’t need her. It was another to head back to LA to face the music alone.
“Mom, I’m going to miss my flight,” I said breathlessly.
She released me reluctantly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said, and just like that, I was back to my old habit. Acting out confidence I didn’t feel. Faking it until I made it.
I gathered it up like armor, and with one last look over my shoulder at my past, I headed into my future.
33
GARRETT
The whispers that Destiny was back crackled through town like a dry brush fire. It reached my ears before I could book my flight to Denver. I called her immediately, not expecting much. I’d called her a dozen times or more since the scandal broke. The calls always went to voicemail and never came back. This time, though, she texted.
I’m not ready to talk yet, but I will be soon.
I stared at the words. She was asking for space but throwing me a lifeline. I should reply that I’ll be here whenever she’s ready. But Landon’s words were still burning in my ears, scratching under my collar. You should be with someone you love enough to fight.
Fuck it. I texted I’m coming over, and got in my car.