Page 84 of Loved Out Loud
O’Malley makes a joke about Hazel that pisses me off, so I scroll until the video stops, and I read the blurb beneath thevideo. It’s just a rehash of what everyone knows, but then I see how many comments are already beneath the article.
Comment sections are none of my business. I know this. But curiosity wins, and I scroll down. Most comments are positive, talking about how romantic the moment was. Others are speculative, mentioning that they can’t clearly see Hazel so who knows if it was her or some other mystery girl. There are few jealous bitches who make mean comments about Hazel but nothing too horrible.
“I didn’t realize people could see me last night,” Hazel says. “Sorry you have all this to deal with now.”
“Hey.” I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “I’m the one who kissed you and made a big sweeping declaration. It’s on me. There’s nothing to apologize for.” I sure as fuck don’t feel as though I need to. I meant every word and will never regret any kiss I share with her.
The table quiets as our server brings out our food and we settle in to eat. Hazel doesn’t join the conversation I have with Adam and Dan as we eat except to occasionally nod in agreement. I wish I knew what was going through her mind right now. I can’t help but worry the media scrutiny has weakened the ground between us.
I feel her withdrawing, and that just won’t fucking do.
Twenty-Seven
HAZEL
All of thehotels we’ve stayed at have been beautiful, but they have nothing on the one we’ll call home for the week in Chicago. The suite we have is at the corner of the building which gives us views of the city to the north and the lake to the east. With the floor to ceiling windows, it almost feels like we’re floating above the city in some futuristic sci-fi movie.
Stone has been as attentive as ever and even more protective now that we’ve been publicly linked. I thought having Dan with me everywhere I go was good enough protection, but he’s assigned me another detail just in case when I’m out in public alone. The band has interviews all day today that will run late into the evening.
I’ve decided to take advantage of that and go see my father. Knocking on their door during peak dinner hours is probably not the best way to approach them, but it’s the best time to possiblysee him. And, to be fair, I’m not too worried about pulling him away from his meal for a few minutes, all things considered.
My knee bounces as the driver winds through the tree-lined suburban streets. The homes are large but set on small lots. People pushing strollers or walking dogs dot the sidewalks, sometimes stopping to speak to each other. It looks idyllic. The type of neighborhood they used to set sitcoms in.
The house numbers climb until we’re right in front of my father’s home. Warm light filters through the blinds from windows on the main level. The front steps are lined with white pots full of flowers in all shades of yellow and purple.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go up with you?” Dan turns around from the passenger seat and looks at me.
“Yeah.” I pull my eyes from the house to him. “I honestly have no idea how he’ll respond to me being here. Having a giant at my back might throw him off even more.”
He nods. “I’ll keep an eye on you. Text me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
After a deep breath I open the door and step out into the humid, evening air. The cloying scent of the flowers wafts around me in the stagnant air, but I keep pushing. One foot after another until I’m crossing the wooden porch and lifting my hand to knock.
I nearly jump out of my skin when the door swings open. A torrent of emotions floods me as my gaze locks on a face I haven’t seen in over a decade but is still so familiar to me I could describe it with my eyes closed.
“Hi, Dad.” The words are nothing but a whisper as they pass my lips.
“Hazel.” His achingly familiar gray eyes widen as he steps out onto the porch, gently closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m in Chicago on business. I thought I would stop by and say hello.”
I can already tell he’s not happy to see me. At least he recognizes me. He must not have completely erased me from his mind. His eyes roam all over me, my face, my hair, but he remains quiet.
“It’s not a good time,” he finally says. “We’re about to sit down for dinner.”
“I figured.”
Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the door opens behind him, and I see Sara in person for the first time. She flashes me a friendly smile but halts. “Dinner’s ready, Dad.”
It’s jarring to hear her call him that.
She starts to go inside but stops and turns back to me. “I’m sorry, this is going to sound crazy, but do I know you? You look so familiar.”
I glance quickly at my father. That answers that question. She doesn’t know about me. I’ve thought about this moment so many times, whether I’d blow up his lies and life or just take it. Like I take everything else.
“I hear that a lot. Just one of those faces, I guess.”
