Page 107 of Dr. Bad Boy

“I was heartbroken that Gracie would leave without even saying goodbye and I took it out on Frank every chance I got. Then one day, Frank slipped me an envelope and told me to go find a private place to read it.”

I slide my wallet from my back pocket and remove a piece of paper, carefully unfolding it. It’s fragile, and I rarely pull it out anymore. I know the words, I just need to keep them close.

I hand it to Violet because I can’t read it out loud. I’m already the most vulnerable I’ve ever let myself be.

I watch her face and mentally read it with her as her eyes follow the lines of shaky handwritten text.

Dearest Max,

You are the child of my heart. My blessing.

Every moment I spent with you was pure joy.

Now, as with all things, it’s my turn to make way for the future.

And for your future, sweet boy, I want love.

Open your heart and it will find you. I promise.

All my love,

Gracie.

Tears fill Violet’s eyes, but she says nothing as she hands back the letter. I carefully refold it and return it to my wallet, taking the silence to pull myself back together.

“I was sixteen when I found out my parents had Gracie sign an agreement saying they’d pay her medical bills and funeral expenses in exchange for her never seeing me again. The show had ended six months earlier and we were in talks and auditions for more projects that I didn't want to do. It was my breaking point, when I realized my so-called parents had taken away the only person who loved me because it would interfere with my ability to earn them buckets of money."

"That's when you walked away," she whispered.

I nod. She knows the rest from my business history. My entire adult life is spelled out in a file on her desk. Emancipated at sixteen. Independently wealthy thanks to funds held in trust by the actor's guild and continuing royalties. Max's parents had negotiated a spectacularly good contract for the last two seasons of the Tanner Harris show, and once I was emancipated, every last residual came to me.

Take that, fuckers.

My gut is churning and I’m exhausted from the emotional turmoil. All I want to do is drag Violet to my bed and hold her tight for the rest of my life. Instead I keep my distance because I know we’re not done talking. As much as I want to hold her tight, I can tell she's still wary.

“Max, I had no idea…”

Fuck. I don't want her sympathy. That's not why I told her. I can feel myself hardening up again. “No one did. Hollywood is so much better at keeping secrets than the tabloids would have you believe.”

But even as I say that, even as I hear my voice clipping off the words, I realize it's not because I'm closing myself off again. I'm just done with that weight. I’ve had all I can take of reliving Max, the early years. I need to move on to Max, the family years.

39

Violet

He’s leftme with a lot to unpack and process, and I’m going to need some time and space to work through it. But that will have to wait.

For the first time since we met, Max is not in control. He looks lost, almost broken. My throat is tight and achy and my heart just hurts. It hurts for Max, the little boy who grew up without love, and Max, the man who thinks he has to exist without it.

I go to him and curl up in his lap, resting my cheek against his shoulder, as I take his hand in mine and give it a little squeeze. When he squeezes back, I feel the now familiar little flutter in my belly. And it’s comforting.

I have so much I want to say—should say, but my thoughts are jumbled and confused and I need to untangle them into some kind of order.

Everything Max has told me tonight fills me with anger and resentment and feelings I can’t even name. Those people—because I can’t even consider them as parents—have not only destroyed Max’s childhood, but their toxicity now poses a threat to his relationship with our child. And that’s something I will fight against with everything I have, no matter what happens between Max and me.

We sit quietly, just holding each other for a long time, then Max wraps his arms tight around me and leans to the side, pulling me over so we’re lying on the sofa together, me in front of him.

I don't think I want to talk about the baby, but I feel like he needssomethingmore than I’m giving him.

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