“Cars,” he said in his singsong way.“Cars.”
“You want to play cars?Okay, kid, let’s do it.”Pushing cars on the floor with a two-year-old would be a much more diplomatic way to spend the evening.“Where are they?”
“Mommy bag.”
Of course, they were.Karim tugged at the straps of Libby’s bag-of-everything, and a whole load of stuff spilled out onto the floor.Clothes, books, coloring pencils…
“Maybe we’d better wait for your mum.She’ll be out in a minute.”
“Cars in here.”Karim continued to rummage, chucking out a packet of tissues and a comb, a pen, and the notebook he’d seen Libby writing in earlier.
“Okay, kid, I’ll help you.Just maybe let’s not throw all of your mum’s things on the floor.We better—”
Dan’s gaze hit on his name scrawled on the open page of the notebook.
Lightning Strike: The Highs and Lows of Daniel Jones.
“Red car!”Karim shoved the toy under Dan’s nose.
“Uh…yay, kiddo.That’s great.”But Dan was too absorbed in the words that glared back at him.
The Real Daniel Jones…
The effects of accident/injuries on relationship with Isabella…
What the…?Why was Libby writing about him?
The blue strap poking out of her bag caught his attention.Dan pulled it out, and the words PRESS screamed at him.
Liberta Jones,Freelance Journalist.In the photograph, her hair was dark and natural.Professional.No funky pink and purple streaks in sight.
The toilet flushed.
He saw red.Clutching the notebook in one hand and the pass in the other, Dan stormed to the bathroom.As soon as Libby cracked open the door, he pushed through it.She stepped back, and he slammed it shut behind him.
“You’re a journalist?”The strap of her press pass swung between them as he shook his fist at her.“You’re writing a fucking story about me?”
“I—”
“When were you gonna tell me?”he demanded.Shit, all the things she’d witnessed this past week!She’d seen him at his worst.Angry and foul-mouthed, spewing and crawling on the floor.“Is that why you were so keen to stay when I was sick?Because you wanted a story out of me?”
“No, I wanted to help you.”
“Help?By stalking me?By worming your way into my life?”
“How dare—”
“And last night, you were sneaking around, eavesdropping on me talking to my mother.Shit, Libby,” he hissed.“Who are you working for?”
“No one.Dan, listen, I—”
“I bet you couldn’t believe your bloody luck when Malek turned up, could you?You gonna write a sordid tale about my mum and her toy boy?”
“I wouldn’t do a thing like that!”
“And I’ll believe you because…?”
“Because I wouldn’t!I like your mom.”
