"I hope so," she whispers, curling against my side as Henry navigates us through the narrow Nantucket streets.
My throat tightens watching her small fingers twist anxiously in her lap. Posey's already lost so much. Her grandparents—her entire world — upended.
And now she's witnessed her newfound father being dragged away in handcuffs. The protective fury that rises in me is almost overwhelming.
When we arrive home, I leave Posey in Mrs. Bixby's capable hands, briefly explaining what happened out of her hearing.
Mrs. Bixby's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. Then she gets that look. The one that clearly says:That's what happens when you let a rockstar into Nantucket.
I ignore her judgment and head up to my room, my body finally allowing the tremors I've been suppressing all afternoon.
My hands shake as I reach for my phone to call Radha. When Cameron first gave it to me for an emergency, I thought I'd never have to use it.
By the time I reach her, Radha’s already in motion. "I'm in a car for the airport," she says without preamble. "I posted bail as soon as Cameron called me. With luck, he'll be released before my flight lands. What happened, Tara? Cameron couldn't speak freely at the police station."
I tell her briefly what transpired, my voice catching as I relive the moment Cameron's control finally snapped. The sound of thatexpensive camera exploding against brick. Posey's terrified screams. The cold click of handcuffs around his wrists.
"Thanks for hanging in there," Radha says when I finish. "I don't know you well, but you seem like a good person."
When she hangs up, I feel suddenly, achingly alone in this big house without Cameron's presence filling it. The silence presses against me like a weight. I can hear Mrs. Bixby running Posey's bath. It feels reassuring to know Posey’s in good hands.
I call Zaza, needing to hear a familiar voice.
“Hey there, diva,” Zaza says when I answer the phone. Her silly nickname for me usually makes me smile, but tonight it barely registers.
"You sound down,” she says a few minutes later. “What’s wrong?”
I take a deep breath. “I’ll tell you because you'll probably read it in Vanessa Sinclair's column soon. But Cameron was just arrested for busting a guy's camera today."
"You're kidding!"
“No. And I'm afraid for him, Zaza."
"Why? He has the money to bail himself out, right?"
"It's not just about the money."
I can't burden her with Jason and the paternity case—that's not my story to tell.
So I let her comfort me in her own inimitable way, her familiar silly chatter washing over me like a balm.
When we finally hang up, the house feels even quieter. I pace my room, unable to settle. I check the time obsessively.How long will it be before he's home?
Cameron and Radha arrive just as Mrs. Bellows is putting dinner on the table. Relief floods through me so powerfully it nearly brings me to my knees.
Upon meeting Radha, I’m struck by how beautiful Cameron’s lawyer is in person. She's older than me—maybe twenty-seven. But she has a polished Manhattan sophistication that money and connections bestow on women with high-profile careers.
Her beige Armani pantsuit is nothing I'd ever wear—too corporate, too severe. But she makes it look effortlessly sexy.
I feel suddenly young and underdressed in my simple jeans and cotton shirt.
Seeing Radha, Edison darts over to bark his hello. I watch as Radha kneels and rubs her beautiful face against his warm fur.
"Good to see you, Ed," she says. "Looks like you enjoy Nantucket."
Edison woofs his reply.
"Mr. Cameron," Mrs. Bellows says, looking surprised as she appears from the dining room. "We weren't expecting you or your guest. I'll set another place."
