Page 160 of Slapshot Bride

“Honey?”

“He… He got ahead of it.”

“What?”

“His PR director. Diane.” My voice sounds like it’s coming from the next room. “You don’t put out a statement at six in the morning unless you’re beating someone to it. She’s making it a confession instead of an exposé.”

And it means he wasn’t caught.

“Riley, the coffee—”

I’m on the edge of the bed with my coffee tilting in my hand and my mother taking it away from me before it goes on the carpet.

He was being blackmailed the entire time.

Every single day I lived in that house. The morning I made coffee in his kitchen, and he flipped his phone face-down so fast he nearly knocked the cup over. Maya’s name on the dashboard on the way home from Valentina’s.

He carried it through all of it.

And Maya sold it to Preston.

He doesn’t know. He’s sitting somewhere right now thinking he beat Maya to it, and he has no idea Preston has a copy in a safe.

“I have to…”

I stop.

Because the next word was going to be call him, and my hand is already moving toward the nightstand.

The confession is still fresh out there. He might not have a career by the end of the week. And the last thing he has from me is a note on his kitchen counter that called what we had fake.

He’s in the middle of the worst week of his life. The last thing he needs is me there, telling him how much worse it could have been.

I wouldn’t be that person. He deserves his freedom too. A break from all of it. Just like I got away from Preston.

Maybe time to also figure out his next step, without me walking in to remind him of the past, and everything he’s about to lose.

I sit with my mom for a few minutes, and she eventually leaves with the mugs, after a warm hug.

My father knocks around ten.

I’ve dressed by then in jeans and a sweater from a drawer I hadn’t opened since I was twenty.

He’s got a box under one arm and he stands in the doorway the way he did last night, like he’s not sure yet whether he’s allowed in.

“Come in, Dad.” I offer him a small smile.

He walks in and sets the box on the bed.

I know what it is before I open it. The shape gives it away, and my throat closes.

“You came empty-handed, and I thought you’d need this to get your mind off things,” he says, watching me with careful eyes. “So, I did some reading last night to get some info on the best camera and lighting setup you’ll need. We have a large space at the north wing of the property. You could set up a studio there and have a fresh start. And if you want a different environment, we can arrange that…”

“Dad.” Tears spring to my eyes.

I hug him for a long time.

When he’s gone, I sit on the bed with the box on my lap and my hands flat on the lid.