Page 84 of Almost Perfect
Mayhem Source Says She’ll Do Anything To Have Control.
How did any of that rate as news? Who was the “source,” and what did that person get for gossiping about Calla? Irritation had twisted in my gut, so Kristoffer’s call was a welcome, if surprising, distraction
“Someone just tipped us off that there’s more coming. Supposedly someone close to her has given the press information that implicates her in her mother’s death and confirms she cheated on Bri.”
I swore under my breath and glanced around. Thankfully, the place was empty at the moment. I spoke quietly when I asked, “Who would do that?”
“We have a few ideas and are looking into it. The bigger point is that I need you to keep a tight lip. She told me she explained to you and your brother not to talk to the reporters, but I’m going to say it again—please don’t.”
“Of course not.” I had nothing to say to them, anyway. Anything between me and Calla was just that—between me and Calla. “Warrick won’t say a word either.”
“Good news.”
A loaded pause followed. I shifted on my feet and waited for him to hang up. “Well, thanks—”
“Let me be honest—”
We both stopped, halting the overlap.
Kristoffer spoke first. “Apologies. I was just saying, don’t be surprised if you don’t hear much from her. She’s going to need to focus. She forbade me from sending you and your brother NDAs, but I’m going to at least say that much.”
“Sure.”
What else did I say to that? I guessed the lack of paperwork was a sign of her trust in us, but I would’ve gladly signed one.If it makes her feel more secure, I’ll do just about anything.
That thought echoed through me, the truth of it spiraling down into my gut and taking root.
“And please don’t speak to anyone about anything.”
This guy was paranoid to the gills, but maybe that was what Calla needed now. And if that helped her, more power to him. I wasn’t about to make her or his job any harder. “You have nothing to worry about from me. I live a small life, and I like it that way. I’m not looking to use this, or her, for my gain. I care about her, and I’m not going to expect her to be thinking about me while she deals with this.”
Silence met me, but after a few seconds, he said, “Well, good. I’m sure she’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.”
With that, he was gone, and I slumped into a chair set at a little table at the end of the line of stacks where I’d paced.
Shutting my eyes against the flood of worry for her, I thought about Calla when she left. She’d seemed focused and sure about the choice to go now, to get this interview done and address all the nonsense. Her publicist had assured her it was the right move, and everyone in her circle had agreed.
But I wanted her here. I wanted her hidden away with me, safe, where I could make sure nothing harmed her. And yet, I couldn’t offer that anyway. Because something had been hurting her, gnawing at her, for years—first the loss of her mother, and then the spiraling insanity that was her life.
This interview wouldn’t put a stop to all that, but I hoped it might slow the spin. It might ease away some of that sense of doom she seemed to carry around with her. She embodied strength and resilience, but she’d been knocked down, and hard.
I didn’t want her to have to face this alone.
I should’ve gone with her.
I shot to my feet, restless with the realization that I could’ve at least offered. What did I have to stay behind for? Someone else would check on Sheridan, and my business was as hands-off as it could get.
Why hadn’t I offered?
“Did you need any help?” Mia Morrison asked from behind the circulation desk, her belly giant in front of her.
I’d heard Mom say it was twins this time.
“No, thanks, Mia. All set here.”
“Okay. Have a good one!” She waved and returned her attention to the computer in front of her.
