Page 47 of Saving Ian Pope

“What?” I tossed the pillow aside and half-rose from the chair. “No. You don’t have to leave. Where would you go?”

“Umm, there are these things called hotels. They actually let you stay there overnight if you pay them.” He spun around toward the hallway.

Those hotels also had those things calledminibars. I raised my arms and dropped them. “Please, don’t leave. You don’t need to leave. It’s just one more night. We don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to. You can work here, and I-I’ll give you some space. You stay here, and I’ll take off for a while.”

Before he could answer, or worse, collect his bags, I launched myself out of the chair, grabbed my purse, my sweatshirt, my keys and slipped out of the house, leaving him with his hands shoved into his pockets and his head bent forward.

By the time I reached my car, I’d already shed enough tears to end the California drought. I couldn’t guarantee that Ian would stay at my place, but it would be easier for him to be there without me right now. Did he believe me? I’d raised enough of a fuss about his celebrity and getting recognized that it would make sense to him.

What wouldn’t make sense is how I could let the difficulties of his stardom override our deep connection with each other. He’d have to come to his own conclusions about that, but anything would be better than the fallout if I stayed with him and Matt found out.

Matt had already cautioned me about what lay ahead for me if I was really in a relationship with Ian Pope. He had proof of my involvement in Dad’s con. I’d seen the tape with my own eyes the afternoon Matt had called me.

He’d also done his research, like any good confidence man. While the crime of fraud might have a five-year statute of limitations, the scam Dad had pulled on the Browne family had also involved bank fraud, and Matt had gleefully informed me that the statute of limitations for that was ten years. I could still be criminally charged for my participation. Did I want to find out?

Of course, I could always tell Ian the whole sordid truth about my life and how my father had used both me and my brother as his accomplices at various times. Matt’s tape wouldn’t have any power over me then.

I smacked the steering wheel as I pulled into the street. Who was I kidding? If I told Ian, and then told Matt I was staying with Ian, Matt could use that tape against both of us. He could blackmail Ian directly, and if Ian didn’t play along, I could go to jail.

Besides, did I really want to tell Ian about my criminal behavior? Ian hadn’t wanted to tell me he arranged the pap walk for fear I’d think less of him. The situation with the con was the pap walk on steroids. At least arranging photo ops for yourself wasn’t illegal, punishable by twenty years in the slammer.

And then there were the Brownes. Dad thought he could outsmart that criminal family, who had their fingers in auto theft, ID fraud, probably drugs. Figured the Brownes wouldn’t go to the cops due to their own illegal activities. The Brownes didn’t go to the cops. They’d taken care of Dad the old-fashioned way. They’d killed him. Sure, the hit and run looked like an accident and we couldn’t prove a thing, but both Matt and I knew better.

The Brownes hadn’t tracked down Dad’s accomplice that night. I’d played only a small role and had nothing to do with the money Dad had stolen from them, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t be awfully interested in the footage that was stolen from their warehouse that night showing me as the accomplice who ripped them off. Also, Matt and I always doubted the Brownes had retrieved all their money from Dad. Matt had been feverishly looking for it ever since. What if the Brownes believed I had it?

I also had to consider Ian’s reputation. He’d been working hard to repair it. News that his girlfriend was a scammer could blow all that to smithereens. No, I didn’t have any other choice. Breaking it off with Ian would keep Matt out of Ian’s orbit and keep him off my back, too. Matt had already suggested that I could still orchestrate fake claims against Ian to make him pay up.

Dizziness overcame me, and I could feel an anxiety attack gathering. I parked in front of the dog park and buzzed down the window to gulp in the salty sea air. If I could just get through the horrible part of breaking up with Ian, I could protect him and protect myself. He’d get over me soon enough, and I’d be able to limp along, knowing I did the right thing.

I clambered out of the car and let myself through the gate around the big dog side of the park. I dropped onto a bench and watched the pups play, through eyes swimming with tears. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but the lampposts stationed around the park were lit up, spotlighting the dogs as they ran and played and jumped without a care in the world.

An older woman with a gray braid hanging over one shoulder sat beside me, long skirt rustling, bracelets clinking on her arms, the smell of patchouli hovering around her. “Which one is yours?”

I sniffed and wiped the back of my hand across my nose. “None. I used to have a dog, but he passed away a few years ago. I just like coming here sometimes to watch them play. I used to bring him here.”

The woman patted my knee. “That’s rough. What kind of dog was he?”

“A Great Dane, harlequin. His name was Loki.”

“Aww, Loki’s over the rainbow bridge now, keeping watch over you.”

For some reason, this opened my tear ducts even more, and I covered my face with my hands. I couldn’t even get over Loki, how would I ever manage to move on after Ian?

“Do you know what works for me?”

Twisting my head to the side to look at the woman beside me, I asked, “What?”

“When I lost my Ginger, I got another dog a few months later.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “I know it doesn’t help everyone, and some people would see it as traitorous, but it helped me, and I just know Ginger approved. They don’t want to see us sad, do they? So, my advice to you, my dear—get yourself another dog.”

“I don’t want another dog. I want Loki back.” My bottom lip trembled. Was I talking about Loki now or Ian?

“Maybe you’ll find another Loki to love.” The woman jumped to her feet and trotted over to a scrum of dogs. “Who belongs to the German Shepherd. He’s trying to hump my Saffron.”

My wet sobs sputtered into laughter. I’d have to tell Ian about Saffron and the horny Shepherd. I gasped as a wave of grief tackled me, leaving me breathless.

After another thirty minutes in the dog park, I peeled myself from the bench. Darkness had engulfed the park, and only the pit bulls were cocky enough to stick around.

When I got to the car, I checked my phone. Nothing from Ian. We didn’t have any food in the house, and lunch at the beach was a distant, happy memory. Ian needed something to eat—unless he was already at some hotel or out with one of his LA friends. I called my favorite Chinese restaurant and ordered some food.

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