“Fuck off.”
“Sorry, sorry. So she’s pregnant, and you’re sure it’s yours,” he clarifies. “Are you going to see the doctor?”
“Yes. I made an appointment for tomorrow.”
“Does that mean you want to keep the baby?”
My heart skips a beat. I haven’t even considered that. I just wanted to make sure Riley knew she could count on me. And because I’m a selfish jerk, I didn’t bother to ask Riley how she felt.
I lick my dry lips. “We’ll make that decision together.”
“Just want to confirm,” he says, pen scratching in the background. “You want to make sure no one knows about the pregnancy, and if you decide to keep the baby, you also want to keep the mother’s identity under wraps.”
“Yes. For her safety, I want her to stay out of the limelight. I don’twant Riley to have to go through what Owen and Ines did when fans found out they were married.”
Glenn sighs. “Fuck, that was bad. And for you…the uproar would be so much worse. You’ve never dated anyone for longer than a couple of months. The fans like thinking you’re a playboy. They’ll lose it if they find out you’re tied down.”
“That’s why it needs to stay under the radar.”
“Got it. Let me know when the two of you decide, and we’ll go from there.” He clears his throat. “If you decide to keep the baby, does that mean you and this girl are going to be together?”
I close my eyes, reminding myself Riley can’t hear me now. I knew Glenn would ask this question. “No. We’re just friends.”
“Okay. If anything changes, let me know.”
“Thanks, Glenn. I appreciate your help more than you know.”
“And I appreciate the heads-up. Accidental pregnancies and surprise weddings are the stuff of nightmares for a manager.”
I rough a hand down my face. “Happy to help.”
“Go fuck yourself, man. It’d be better than fucking your best friend’s sister.”
With his thundering laughter in my ear, I end the call. He’s a great manager, but his sense of humor needs work.
In the living room, Riley stands in front of the window. She looks so fragile. All I want is to hold her, make sure she knows I’m here for her.
But it’s safer for both of us if I keep my hands to myself.
“We have an appointment at ten a.m. tomorrow.” I stop beside her, my shoulder brushing hers.
“Okay,” she says quietly. Then, she turns to me. “Why did you lie to me?”
My heart thuds uncomfortably. Lie? “What are you talking about?”
“While I was away, you kept saying you were busy, that you were spending time in the studio and at Ines’. But I know this place. I know how your penthouse looks when you’re in one of your moods. When you’re letting your depression win.”
“Riley, look around?—”
“And see what?” she asks, her eyes hard. “It’s too clean. Even the piano you haven’t touched in months. Did you clean up to create an illusion for me? To make me believe you were doing fine while I was on vacation?” She jabs my chest with a finger. “Don’t lie to me. I know you too well.”
I stare at her, at a loss for words. How is it possible she sees right through me? Past my bullshit? Past the façade I so carefully crafted?
Head low, I admit, “You’re right. I did go into the studio, and I did spend time with Ines and Santi. But most days, I was home, trying to survive, barely functioning. That’s what I did.”
Her lip trembles slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want to worry Hunter or Piper.” I shake my head. “I didn’t want to bother any of you.”
