After the first ten days, I decided to focus more on why she left instead of where she’s gone. She left because I was an asshole. She left because I did what I always do. I worried about my image over everything else. I asked her to lie about us because it would be easier than letting a bunch of people judge me on someone she used to be.
But, fuck, I never stopped to think in my self-absorbed panic that it meant I was treating her like she was a problem and like she was still that person with a problem. So I started trying to make amends; even though I knew I couldn’t tell her how wrong I was, I could at least show the world how wrong I was.
I found a new company to do my clothing line with, and then I picked that charity the reporter mentioned, the Canadian one called Roadways that helps teen runaways, to give my profits from that clothing line to. I issued a press release and gave an interview to that same reporter, as a thank-you for not running that original footage. We didn’t mention Stephanie, but I did explain that I was a firm believer that a troubled youth didn’t mean a troubled adulthood.
I shower, shave and get in my car, leaving early and stopping at a drive-through to grab a coffee on the way to the airport. My phone rings as I’m walking into the airport. Hope fills me like it does every time it rings, because I want it to be Stephanie. And like every other time, it’s not. This time it’s my father. I have sent his calls to voice mail for the last month. I fired him, but he is still working. Not so much as working but sending me detailed emails and leaving voice mails telling me what I need to do to keep all the projects he had been managing. There are a lot. I didn’t realize how much my father actually did. Approving promotional shots, negotiating contracts and fielding new offers. My phone is constantly ringing and my inbox is overflowing.
I send him to voice mail again and ten seconds later my phone starts ringing. This time it’s my sister, Kate. I pick it up even though I know that she’s going to do nothing but bitch. “Hey.”
“You can’t keep punishing him for something he didn’t do,” she hollers so loudly I have to hold the phone away from my ear.
“Except that we don’t know he didn’t do it,” I reply, calming her down because it’s becoming habit. She calls to yell at me at least once a week.
“He said he didn’t do it, so he didn’t do it,” Kate wails, then pauses and lowers her voice. “Avery, he’s a lot of things—overbearing, distant, a jerk—but he’s not a liar. He’s always been honest. Brutally so. I know you know this.”
I do know this. But if he didn’t leak Stephanie’s past to the media, then who did? It had to be him. “Do you need to talk to me about something else, Kate?”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “When did you become such an asshole?”
“When my dad outed my girlfriend to the media,” I reply as I push open the doors to the airport. “Anything else?”
“Avs, come on. Please,” Kate begs, changing her tactic completely. “He’s all we’ve got, and he’s always been there for us.”
She’s talking about the fact that our mom died when I was four and Kate was two. Don Westwood might have been far from perfect, but he didn’t give up on or ignore his two toddlers when his wife died. He was there for us; even if he was overbearing and treated me like more of a client than a son, he was still there.
For the first time since this thing with Stephanie blew up in my face, I start to feel bad about this fight with my dad. But if he really did this…Then again, if he didn’t…
“Just answer one of his calls, okay?” Kate asks. “Just one. Come on.”
“Fine. I’m getting on a plane, but I’ll talk to him when we land in Seattle,” I promise, and walk toward the security for the private plane area. “How’s everything with you?”
“Fine,” Kate says. “Except my brother is breaking my dad’s heart.”
“I have a broken heart.”
She pauses at that admission. She’s not used to me having feelings, let alone expressing them. “So maybe you should do something about that other than act like a selfish, ungrateful brat to Dad.”
“Oh, my God, you’re relentless.” I roll my eyes. “I’m hanging up now.”
“Safe travels.”
I hang up and put my phone and belongings in the bin before passing through the metal detector. Once on the other side, I still have probably a good half hour before the rest of the team starts wandering in, so I make my way over to the waiting area and do what I always do when I have too much time on my hands. I scroll through the photos on my phone until I get to my favorite one.
It was taken before anything happened between us. When we were still flirty friends. She’s sitting on her porch, the sun is setting behind her, making the sky pink and gold. She’s holding her phone in her hand and laughing at me because I’d tripped over the railing trying to climb from my side to hers. She snapped a pic of me sprawled on the ground and was threatening to sell it to the tabloids. So I pulled out my phone and snapped one of her. I told her it was because she wasn’t wearing any makeup and had six chins from this angle so I could use it for blackmail. But the truth was she looked beautiful in it. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes sparkling, hair tousled.
I must stare at it for a long time, because suddenly someone gently kicks my foot. I look up and see Ty standing above me, coffee in his hand and headphones dangling around his neck. “What the hell are you staring at? You look downright morose, buddy.”
“Morose? Look at you with the fancy words,” I snark.
He laughs and drops down into the seat beside me. “My girlfriend is super smart. She’s expanding my vocabulary,” he says. “She’s talking about going back to school to get her law degree.”
“Good for Maddie.” I smile. “What if she ends up at University of Wisconsin or something?”
“She won’t,” he says without the slightest worry in his voice. “We’ve talked about it. She’s only applying to schools in Southern Cali. And she’s going to move in with me next year.”
“Holy shit. That’s great, Ty. Happy for you.” I smile at him and he grins back. I don’t ask the questions that I’m thinking, like,Will Steph keep the cottage or move somewhere else?
He fiddles with the lid on his coffee. “Hey, so…Steph called Maddie.”
