“Okay Mom. Love you. Love you, Dad.”
My dad’s face reappears next to my mom.
“Love you, son,” they both respond in unison before hanging up.
I tap my phone into my hand as I peer out the window.
The argument with Paul in the car continues to play out in my head. Maybe I should speak to my lawyer, John, to get the ball rolling and explore my options. But that only addresses one of my problems. Christopher is the other. And a lawyer isn’t going to provide a solution there. In fact, hiring people to help me with Christopher is what got me into this mess in the first place.
I stop tapping and hold the phone up to my face to unlock it—intending to call him—when I remember that I don’t have Christopher’s number. When Lucy updated my phone, the last backup was from a week ago, before all this started.
Rob had knocked on Chris’s door for me when I got back,but there was no answer. And he didn’t pick up when I tried to call his room on the landline.
I want to apologize to him.
To tell him I never should have let the team go through with compiling the dossier on him.
How amazing the response toStolen Momentswas tonight.
Just have him hold me in his arms again.
I’ve already lost Samuel forever. I don’t want to lose the first guy I’ve truly cared about since. But there’s nothing more I can do. Nothing but wait and hope that Christopher reaches out. That he will forgive me.
My stomach gurgling is a stark reminder that not only have I not eaten anything all day aside from a packet of nuts, but that room service is taking forever. My gaze drifts to the side table where the packets are stacked, weighing up whether to have another when a knock comes from the door.
“I’ve got it,” I say, almost running to the door as Rob reappears from the bathroom.
“Finally,” I say opening the door.
But it’s not room service that greets me.
18.Christopher
Tuesday
I’m stunned into silence.
Of all the responses I’d anticipated from Alexander,Finally, was not one I was expecting.
“Oh God. I thought you were room service. I’m sorry.” Alexander is rapidly blinking, his body freezing momentarily, before he takes two steps back and ushers me in.
I’m taken aback when I see Rob occupying one of the armchairs in the living room. Well, that explains in part why there was no one on guard at the door after the Rita incident the other night. His dark-chocolate eyes scan me from head to toe.
“Rob, would you give us the room, please?” Alexander motions me onto the couch, and picks up a packet of peanuts from above the minibar before joining me.
“I’m under strict orders not to leave you alone,” he says. Rob’s glare makes me fidget uncomfortably.
Does he think I’m responsible for what happened last night?
Am I considered a threat to Alexander’s safety? Like the fans downstairs? Like Rita?
“I’ll be fine, I promise. Look, he doesn’t have anything on him.”
Rob gives me another once over before pushing himself up out of the armchair.
“Okay, I’ll be in the meeting room, but the doorwillbe staying open.” He looks back at Alexander, who shakes his head, before leaving us alone.
I reach for the pillow, the same one that I threw off the couch two nights ago to get closer to Alexander, and settle it on my lap as a layer of protection.
