Page 195 of Collide
“Worth it,” he laughs.
Later that night,Alex prepares dinner while I sit on the sofa with some tea. “I can’t believe we have to leave tomorrow,” I sigh.
I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to let the world back in.
“Don’t tempt me,” he says, wicked and low.
I smile, watching him power on his phone.
“Back to reality.” I pout, grabbing mine from my bag on the table.
My screen lights up.
Calls. Texts. Notifications.
Riley. Philippa. My father. Mark. Kylie.
What the fuck is going on?
Every app is blowing up. I tap one. My thumb freezes mid-scroll.
Then I gasp.
What the fuck.
Flashing headlines.
My name.
Alex’s name.
Everywhere.
ALEXANDER WESTERBERG’S NEW LOVE AFFAIR—WHO IS THE MYSTERY BRUNETTE?
ALEXANDER WESTERBERG EXPECTING A BABY WITH CO-STAR MADISON WALSH. SOURCES CONFIRM.
I blink at the screen as a cold weight settles inside.
Then:MADISON PREGNANT—PREGNANT AND ABANDONED.
My fingers tremble.
But it’s the last headline that steals my breath:THE OTHER WOMAN? FANS ACCUSE SINGER ELENA MONTGOMERY OF HOMEWRECKING SCANDAL.
I claw at my chest.
“Alex,” I choke, shoving my phone at him with shaking hands.
His face pales instantly, his own phone vibrating violently in his grip. He freezes, eyes darting across the screen, reading every word in horror.
“No…no, no.” His voice is sharp and broken, like he can’t make sense of what he’s seeing.
He drags a hand through his hair, pacing now, panic pouring off him in waves. “This can’t—She’s pregnant?”
It feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke.
Hours ago, we were tangled in bed, laughing about Swedish mountain babies.
