Finally, I’m feeling better than I have in months. The first four were terrible, the last one wasn’t as bad, and now the Hyperemesis Gravidarum is easing off a fraction. The doctor told me it usually lasts about twenty weeks, and I’m almost at that stage.
Seeing as I was so sick and Patrick’s production company went south, my professional career has all but dried up. So, I’ve been looking into other avenues away from Hollywood. Even though acting was great, it forced me to be something and someone I don’t like. I’ll still do the occasional job, commercial or whatever, but for now, I’m looking into teaching special needs.
I’m taking an online course through a local college, working through everything I need with a bit of extra help—perks of fame, I guess—so I can make a real difference for those who need it most. This has always been my dream, even before I was thrust into the spotlight. And now, given the circumstances, it feels like the perfect time to pursue it finally.
Teaching is my true calling—it feels more meaningful than acting ever did, and I can’t wait to be fully qualified.
Security has informed me of a delivery of some kind, something I wasn’t expecting. So when the doorbell chimes, I head to the door. Pulling it open, the driver looks completely unimpressed and bored as I sign for the giant parcel.
He grunts when I tip him, then rushes off before I can even say thank you.
It’s pretty heavy, and I exhale as I maneuver it past the door. Grabbing a corner, I rip the brown paper and packaging to revealthe dove painting Nate started all those months ago. Seeing it makes my heart flutter, and tears stream from my eyes as I stare at this beautiful painting in awe. It’s perfect, totally stunning, and everything I’d pictured. I’ve been following the success of his business through Alex, and I’m so happy and grateful he’s doing this on his own merits. I knew he’d do well.
A small card peeks out from the side, so I pull it down, turning it over to see neat but child-like handwriting, and instantly I know it’s Nate’s.
My hand instinctively moves to my stomach, and tears fall from my chin.
I’ve been so stupid.
I miss him.
I’m going to be forever linked to him.
He needs to know.
I can’t keep this a secret anymore.
Just because I’m scared doesn’t give me the right to block him out.
I love him, and being apart has shown me that, and now I need to showhim.
I just hope he can forgive me.
Racing to the table, I grab my keys and head out to my car, sliding in as fast as I can. I’m not sure where he’ll be, but my first guess is the gallery, so I’m heading there.
I quickly drive there and park out the back so I won’t draw attention—my security team is parked behind me, knowing to keep a safe distance. I race down the same alleyway he took me down all those months ago and burst through the door.
“Nate,” I call out.
Alex turns and frowns.
“He’s in the studio… drowning,” she says.
I furrow my brows and nod, walking quickly toward the back studio. Opening the door, I walk in to see Nate slumped over a bottle of whiskey. I wince while my heart rejoices at seeing him for the first time in months.
“Nate,” I whisper.
His head slowly moves up and looks at me, then to my stomach.
Oh God, he knows!
My hand instinctively moves to my tummy, and he draws his eyebrows together in a frown.
Not the reaction I was after.
“It’s not mine, is it?” he asks so softly I can barely hear him.
“What?”
