Page 36 of Her Supermodel Stalker
“Because he made you cry.”
I hold him tight. “Thank you, baby. But don’t you want a daddy?”
“Yeah, but not him. I want Devin to be my daddy.”
Oh. That’s another of my worries. I shouldn’t get his hopes high. “Silly child,” I say.
While I want to believe Devin will do his best to protect Jimmy and me, I have to do whatever I can to prevent a legal case from taking place. I rack my brain for possible actions that I can take.
I wish I had recorded what he said to me. I wish I saved the email or the texts he sent me. But the truth is I deleted all traces of Jackson from my life in order to forget him…Wait, maybe I didn’t! I reach for my phone and tap the messenger app. Shit. The earliest message I’m saving is from two years ago. No luck.
I spring to my feet and run to my bedroom. I turn on my computer, where I might have some older message stored on Outlook. Nothing in the inbox goes that far either. My shoulders sag and I sigh. I’m about to close the app when I notice a folder down the directory tree named “Jackson.” My heart leaps up with joy.
I click it open. Damn. There are quite a few messages. I check them one by one, and nearly all were from the time when we were dating. I cringe when I saw the messages he sent me when he was wooing me. “Lex, I think I’ll die if I don’t see you now,” he wrote. “My parents won’t be home this afternoon. Come to my house, please?”
My God. It was the day he took my virginity. Of course, I saved it.
There are a few more filled with his promises that he never fulfilled.
And then, it was my message to him, sent a day after Jimmy was born. “Jimmy is seven pounds. The doctor says he’s very healthy. I think he got your eyes and nose.”
He didn’t respond to this.
Next message. “I miss you, Jackson. Won’t you please come to see Jimmy just once?”
No response either.
And then, three months later, I sent him another photo of Jimmy at his sip and see. This time he responded, “Lexi, please do not send me the photos of your son anymore. I have nothing to do with him, or you. In fact, I don’t even know whether he is really my child. I don’t see any resemblance between us.”
After all these years, the words still stab my heart like daggers.
I want to hit the delete button but stop myself. This is the perfect evidence.
Chapter 17
Devin
When I saw the blond guy standing next to Lexi, I nearly exploded with jealousy and anger. I knew who he was right away. As much as I hate to admit, Jimmy is the spitting image of his father.
When my attention moved to Lexi, I quickly became worried. I saw not only loath but also fear in her eyes. When I found out what he was there for, it was all I could do not to punch a fist into his smug, stupid face.
The man has the nerve to call himself Jimmy’s daddy after abandoning them and not seeing him even once!
When I told Lexi I would take care of Jackson, I was serious. I would do anything to protect her and Jimmy from being harmed. I won’t let Jackson get hold of Jimmy because I know what he’s up to. He doesn’t even care for the boy. He will only deprive the boy of his mom.
I phoned the bastard earlier, telling him I had an important matter to discuss with him and it could affect his acting career. He said he was busy with interviews, but he would “squeeze” me in. What insolence. Okay. So I’m meeting him at the Hilton that’s nearly an hour’s drive from town. Why doesn’t the idiot stay with his own family?
Not surprisingly, the bastard makes me wait in the lobby. I’m pissed because I’m not used to this kind of treatment. Even though I’m famous, I seldom make people wait for me, but I tell myself to calm down. This is only Jackson’s trick to play me down. It means he isn’t confident at all. He might procrastinate out of fear.
Still, my time is precious. So at two o’clock, precisely thirty minutes after our appointed time, I speak to his manager, an inexperienced girl of barely twenty, who sits nervously and stiffly across the table to me. “I have to leave. I have another important appointment. Here is my attorney’s number. I would appreciate it if you tell Mr. Milhous to call him.”
“Sure,” the woman accepts the card with a trembling hand. God knows where he found her at the last minute. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gamble, but let me just tell him now, and would you please wait just a second?”
“Of course,” I say with a shrug.
“Mr. Milhous, Mr. Gamble has to go. Are you free now?” the girl says to the phone in a shaky voice. “Okay. Sure.”
She hangs up the phone and smiles at me. “He wants to see you now.”
