They were what she wore when she stayed at someone’s house or at a nice hotel. Anywhere she might be seen by a friend or a member of staff. She realized that wouldn’t be the case here, but they felt like the right things to put on.
The shower was roomy, the water hot, the pressure strong enough to beat most of the tension out of her muscles. There was body wash, shampoo, and conditioner in the shower already. Expensive stuff left behind by Arlington and his last wife, Lisa.
Lisa had been left a large sum of money and the main house in the Hollywood Hills. Apparently, that had been enough to keep her from saying anything to Harper about getting this one.
Harper used the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash she’d brought. She realized she was acting like a guest in what was now her own home, but it didn’t feel like home.
Her home in L.A. was a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a converted house with a view of…not much. She could see into the neighbor’s driveway and a little into the backyard, which was a postage stamp of grass. This place was obviously a lot nicer. It was just hard to think of it as hers.
Maybe that would sink in after a few days.
She dried off, wrapped a towel around her hair, and got into her pajamas. Out in the living room, Archie was laying on the blanket she’d set out for him. When he saw her, he rolled over and showed his tummy.
“You like that couch, don’t you?” She leaned on the back of it and smiled at him. “Goofy dog. I’m going to make a salad then come sit with you.”
The salad came together fast, since most of it was already prepped. She sliced up some veggies, tossed in some chicken, a few toasted pumpkin seeds, and some blueberries, then drizzled a little poppyseed dressing on.
She was just about to sit on the couch with Archie and attempt to decipher the television remote when she heard her phone going off.
Could be someone seeking to confirm if that was her in the pictures with Ford, but it could be a client, so she had to check. She put her salad bowl on the coffee table and dug her phone out of her purse.
She recognized the number and hoped it wasn’t more bad news. She wasn’t sure she could take anything else happening right now. She answered. “Hi, Frankie.”
“Hi, Harry. I mean Harper. Sorry. Anyway, it’s your sister.”
“I know. That’s why I said, ‘Hi, Frankie,’ and not, ‘Who is this’.” Harper rolled her eyes in amusement.
“Right. Lots on my mind, I guess,” Frankie said with more than a modicum of amusement.
Harper sat on the couch and slouched back against the cushion. She put her bare feet on the edge of the coffee table. “You okay? What’s going on?”
“You know, the usual crap. But I didn’t call about me. I called because it’s not every day your sister is all over the news.”
ChapterFour
Harper sat up so fast that Archie raised his head in concern. “What do you mean I’m all over the news? What news? Where?”
“The internet news. Twitter mostly, or X. Whatever it’s called these days. And some Instagram. I can’t tell you about TikTok because I’m not on there.”
“So not on television?”
“No.”
That was something, but Harper remained rigid with apprehension. “What kind of stuff are they saying? Are they using my name?”
“No, they’re not using your name. Yet. They’re trying to figure out who you are. The woman who broke Ford Keating’s heart. Did you really date him?”
“Yes.” The media trying to figure out who she was bothered her deeply. That was exactly what Harper was worried about. And exactly why she’d ignored her phone on the drive out here.
But the fact that they didn’t have her name was a small bright spot in this whole mess. She relaxed against the back of the couch again and reached over to play with Archie’s fur. “I hope they get bored of trying to figure it out and move on to the next thing.”
“There needs to be a next thing for that to happen.”
“It’s Hollywood. It won’t take long.” She hoped.
“Listen, your fifteen minutes of fame isn’t all that I called about. I wish you were closer so we could talk in person—”
“I’m actually not in L.A. right now.”
