Page 130 of Chasing After You
“Of course,” I respond, just before JJ hangs up on me.
I’m not surprised to see an even bigger swarm of photographers hanging out on her street. Thank god Sebastian and Thalia had a security gate installed in front of the house during the renovation.
I honk in warning to tell everyone to get out of my way, and if they don’t,fuck it, I’ll run them over. Nothing is going to stop me from getting to Mirabelle.
They scatter like ants, choosing self-preservation as I pull up, entering the code. Looking at the house, you’d never know there had been a fire five months ago.
It’s only when I step outside my car that I realize I’m still shirtless from my run because I didn’t think to throw a shirt on. The photographers start yelling at me through the gate. I didn’t consider the optics of showing up shirtless, but it’s too late. I’ve already added fuel to the madness, and I can’t do anything about it now.
I take a gamble that the garage code is the same as the beach house’s, and thankfully, it is.
“Mirabelle? It’s Henry,” I call out, announcing myself after closing the door behind me. With everyone outside, I don’t want her to think someone is breaking in.
I make it to the living room when she comes flying down the stairs behind me. Mirabelle slams into my chest, forcing my balance to waver as I wrap my arms around her. She sobs against me, her tears burning my skin as a lump forms in my throat.
“I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,mon cœur,” I say, holding Mirabelle tightly to me. Her knees buckle, and I catch her, carefully lowering us to the ground, cradling Mirabelle’s shaking body in my arms. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the top of her head.
“You’re here.You’re really here,” she mumbles against my skin, and I stroke my hand over her hair repeatedly, tears pooling in my eyes as I silently promise I’m never going to leave her for as long as I live.
“I’m here.”
~
Mirabelle is curled up against my side on the couch where she fell asleep, completely exhausted.
We spoke with her parents and their lawyer, but there’s nothing that can be done other than suing the shit out of the magazine that originally ran the photos, and hope they’ll give up the photographer who took them. As for the audio recording that the town car driver posted, a cease and desist has already been filed, and the Walkers’ lawyer is drafting a lawsuit for privacy violation. The original article and recording were taken down, but it doesn’t matter.They’re already everywhere.
I looked outside earlier, and there were even more people camped out than before, probably waiting for a shot of the two of us together. They’re vultures.
I slip out from underneath Mirabelle to grab my phone from where I discarded it earlier on the kitchen counter. By the time I return the necessary calls, I’m drained, but I’m desperate for a shower.
I feel a little better after, but not by much. Borrowing clothes from Sebastian, I make my way toward the stairs to take a nap with Mirabelle when I see she left all the lights on in her room.
I flip the switches, and at the last second, I decide to shut the laptop sitting open on her bed. I wasn’t trying to look at it, but when the screen lit up before I could shut it, I couldn’t look away from the email to Stacey.
Stacey,
Here is the piece about Henry that I promised you. I hope you find it satisfactory. Please let me know if it requires any changes.
Best wishes,
Mirabelle Walker
Against my better judgment, I click the file Mirabelle attached to the email to see for myself if she wrote some kind of scathing article. Not that I wouldn’t deserve it, I’ve been a total dick to her.
The Real Henry Price
By: Mirabelle Walker
Henry Price is many things. To all of you, he’s the quarterback for the Charlotte Blue Panthers, doing his best to help bring home another Super Bowl win. Henry probably looks like the kind of guy you dread your daughter will bring home: a brooding, dark-haired man with tattoos. While he does brood more than he probably should, when he smiles, it could light up the whole world.
I’ve had the privilege of knowing him my entire life, and yes, I do mean theprivilege.Henry is one of a kind. You’ll never meet a more loyal friend, a more supportive teammate, or a more dedicated player. He’s the first person to offer you the shirt off his back, and let me tell you, the view isn’t so bad either. Kidding! (Actually, I’m not, but for the sake of this article, we can pretend I am.)
Henry also carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, never settling for anything less than perfection. You’re probably wondering what he could possibly be stressed about when he has everything?
He constantly worries about not being enough for everyone. That kind of pressure can be crippling, especially for a professional athlete. Henry puts his mental and physical health on the line every single day for this team. You praise him when the team succeeds, but the second he’s human, it’s time for the guillotine. It’s harder than it looks to be the best when you’re also competing against the best.
To me, Henry Price is a perfectly imperfect human being. He has good days and bad days. He’s just like you, and like you, he enjoys having privacy despite being a public figure. Excelling at the highest level when it comes to throwing a football doesn’t mean the private details of his life need to be made public for your entertainment.
