Page 24 of Time Out

Still breathing. I grabbed my smoothie, raspberry with oat milk and an extra dose of pea protein I’d had delivered every morning for the last week.

A soft laugh came through the phone. She was totally patronizing me, but it was working. As the smooth and cold, tart taste of raspberries hit my tongue, I was able to breathe again.

“Talk to me.”

“I work with a lot of famous people, Maggie. I’ve grown up in this world.”

“You are famous,” I reminded her.

“Hardly. The family name, maybe, but I digress.”

This was why I loved her. Her parents had more zeros in their income than I could write without my hand growing sore, and she was still so damn humble about all of it.

I was damn lucky she’d seen me crawling into the back seat of my car that night.

“Do you know how many scandals we hear in a day? How many rumors? How many emails we get saying someone we represent, someone who’s done a video with us, has gotten so-and-so knocked up? It’s the oldest trick in the book, Mags, and everything comes down to one thing and one thing only—”

“Money,” we said at the same time.

Rats. When she put it like that, she had a point.

“That’s why I wanted to go with you, to see him and meet him, but I knew as soon as he saw you, he wouldn’t be that guy. He’d want to be there for you. Everything I’ve been able to find out about Davis Hall is that he’s as wholesome and down-home as they come.”

Right. I bet he was. Until he got naked and had me bent over a bed, palming my ass with his large, strong hand. That was not very wholesome.

I shivered at the memory. Enough of that.

“So what are you saying? Besides I freaked out.”

And maybe screwed up?

She sighed. “I’m saying, of course, this guy would want to help you. Think about his perspective. He’s a rookie, being talked about all the time. The first night you met him, you told him you’d just gotten fired and were getting ready to lose your home. Then you show up telling him you’re pregnant?”

I picked at the pilling on my oversized sweat shorts from Goodwill. I mean, the very fact I was wearing old and worn and used sweat shorts from Goodwill made her point about the money.

“I freaked out,” I muttered. “Totally lost my shit on him.”

“And it’s understandable. You’re pregnant. Scared. You’re alone, and you were nervous about telling him, and your hormones are absolutely raging.”

“Thank you. I feel so much better about myself now that I see what an absolutely unstable basket case I am.”

She laughed. “Shut up. You know I love you, but I’m not wrong, either.”

She often wasn’t. “So what do I do?”

“Eat. Get some sleep. Take care of yourself, and in a few days, go see him again. And this time, maybe go on a full stomach so you don’t get hangry?”

“Haha. It’s a shame you work in music, should have gone the comedy route.”

“Love you, Mags. All my heart. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met with the sweetest heart, and you’ve been through so much, and you’re still fighting. You should be proud of all of that. Everything else will work itself out if you give him another chance. I promise.”

It would have been lovely growing up in a home like hers. With parents who might have billions but loved her to death and kept her grounded. Sure, their vacations were Mediterranean cruises and trips to Spain and whatever, so she wasn’t normal, but they were good people, and she was one of the best, too. They gave her confidence and the freedom to be herself.

What a world that must be.

“Thanks, Belle.” I sniffed again and reached for tissues. “Just what I needed. More crying.”

“Love you Mag-pie. Take a couple days, figure out what it is you do want from him. Maybe if you go to him with a better idea, it’ll help.”

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