Page 11 of Claim to Fame

“I’m sure they’ll move on to something else by the end of the week,” Liv said, though Hannah could hear the way the last word of the phrase turned up, the question she was posing to her husband, the only one of them who had been through this sort of thing before. Daemon rolled his lips through his teeth again, his eyes serious and stoic.

“You think it’ll be longer?” Hannah asked him.

“No way to tell,” Daemon said. “They’ll move on faster, though, if they can’t find you.”

Hannah shook her head. Nothing about this made sense. That morning she’d had the usual handful of photographers who followed her from her apartment to the diner, the ones who were hoping Jackson would magically materialize by her side—he was the one they wanted a picture of. Not her.

The bundle in Liv’s arms squawked and Daemon crossed the room in two steps, taking the baby from Liv’s arms and pacifying her with his pinky finger, rocking her and whispering to her with a low rumble.

Hannah eyed the baby in Daemon’s arms, the toddler dancing in front of the television, the adoring look on her friend’s face as Liv watched Daemon care for their child—it was beautiful. And she hated that it made her stomach twist with jealousy. She couldn’t stay there for a week, watching their perfect love, their perfect family. She’d lose the feeble hold she had on her sanity.

“I can’t just hide in Brooklyn. I have auditions this week.” She turned to Micah, desperate for someone to say something that made sense, to tell her this had all been a mistake and she could go back to her life.

“You can submit a self-tape,” Micah said. “Given the circumstances—” Micah’s phone dinged and he dug it out of his pocket, his nostrils flaring as he read whatever message had just come through. He shared a look with Daemon.

“It’ll be great, Han. Like a week-long sleepover,” Liv said, ignoring the strange tension crackling between the men.

“Liv.” The warning in Daemon’s voice was so fiercely protective it made something inside Hannah crack, a bit of the flailing panic poking through.

“More photographs were just leaked,” Micah said.

“How much worse can it get?” Hannah said.

“There’s a second woman. Rumors of a third,” Micah said matter-of-factly.

“Oh. So, three times as bad then.”

The doorbell rang again, and Liv and Daemon shared a confused look. “Are you expecting anyone?” he asked her. Liv shook her head as Daemon handed her back the baby and stalked towards the front door. He glared through the window at the side of the door, then pulled a curtain closed over it, muttering to himself.

“You must have been followed,” he said, returning to the living room. “There are photographers outside.”

“Here?” Hannah stood up, but then realized there was nowhere she could go, so she fell back onto the couch.

“We need to get you out of New York,” Micah said. “Just until the premiere.”

“I can go to my parents’,” Hannah said, swallowing down the panic and doing her best to block out the steady litany of Ben & Jerry’s flavors buzzing in the back of her head, daring her to give in. If there was ever a time to stress eat, this was it, right?

“Your parents are in a major city,” Micah said. “They’ll find you there too.”

“I—I—I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she said, fighting back the sudden tightness in her throat, the press of tears behind her eyes.

“I know a place,” Daemon said, his eyes bouncing between Liv and Hannah. “My brother lives in a small town in Rhode Island. He and his wife—”

“You’ll love them!” Liv turned to face Hannah more fully. “Jamie is a chef and his wife, Tessa, is a baker.”

“Rhode Island,” Hannah repeated, stunned.

Liv continued on as if she hadn’t said anything. “It’s the cutest town. Farmers’ markets and beaches and town festivals. It’s where Daemon and I got married. You’ll love it.”

“More importantly, the press aren’t likely to look for you there.”

“You want me to stay with your brother and sister-in-law, who I’ve never met, for two whole weeks?” Hannah shook her head. “I can’t—”

Liv cut in, “They’re good people. It’ll be like a mini vacation.”

By myself. Staying with people I don’t know in a place I’ve never been while the paparazzi try to hunt me down. What kind of vacation is that?

“Unless you have a better idea…” Micah trailed off.

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