“Well.” He forced a smile, though his eyes looked guilty. “All the more reason for me to come back. I wasn’t there the first time. I will be this time. I’ll get a flight back tonight.”
“Won’t that just prove everyone right? Maybe you need to show up a couple more times in New York.”
“I’m afraid nothing is going to make this better, Libby. We’re just going to have to wait for something more interesting to come along and distract everyone.”
“Okay,” I agreed, honestly relieved that he’d be coming back. I wanted him to do what was best for him, but I also really wanted him to be here.
♪♫♪
He was already in my living room when I woke up the next morning. I stepped out of my room and watched him running his hands over his face and tilted my head in confusion. “Did you sleep here last night?”
He nodded. “I got back late, so I didn’t want to wake you, but I also didn’t feel okay leaving you by yourself.”
I shook my head and went into my pantry. “You’re becoming a grade-A stalker.”
“It’s not stalking if you were given a key,” he hollered from the living room.
I smiled.
“Seriously, though, we need to discuss security,” he said, coming into the kitchen.
I turned to face him slowly, wary of what was going to come next. “What do you mean?”
His face was all apology. He raised his hands to his side. “You’re in this with me now. Things are going to change.”
I stayed quiet, not wanting to say out loud what I thought he might be suggesting.
“You need a security detail.”
My shoulders sank. “No.” That one word landed somewhere between a whine and a cry. “I was fine after the last article.”
“They didn’t think you were carrying our love child before.”
Well…that shut me up. Still, I shook my head. “I don’t want a bodyguard, Sean. This isn’t New York or LA. It’s not the same.”
“I know, but it’s still a big deal.”
I shook my head and folded my arms in front of me.
“Libby.” His voice was a warning.
“I know you’re worried, but I still get to make my own decisions. I don’t want this.”
His face fell. “Please, Libs?”
“I’ll be careful,” I promised. “But I’m not going to overreact and start trooping around with some muscle man dressed in all black. That would attract more attention, not less.”
“Your security wouldn’t look like that. My security is meant to stand out and deter overzealous fans. Your security would be designed to blend in.”
I moved around him, pulling a bowl from the cabinet. “You’ve thought about this way too much.”
“Of course I have.” He walked over and put his hands on my belly. “I happen to have a vested interest in your safety.”
Whoa.
I was speechless for a moment. I had made Sean put his hand on my stomach several times to feel the baby kicking, but this was different. It felt less friendly and more intimate. There was also the look of soft sincerity in his eyes that made my chest constrict for a moment. Why did this moment hit me so hard? Was it simply that I recognized the look he gave me as something more than just friendly concern? Or was it the fact that he so seamlessly included my baby in the equation? He saw me for me, and he knew that I now came with another little human.
What had we been talking about?
I shook my head. Security. That was it.
“I don’t want a security detail. Not now.”
“If not now, then when?”
“When it’s actually necessary. I don’t want to turn my life upside down for something that might happen.”
He let out a deep sigh and ran his thumbs over my rounded belly. Was he doing that on purpose? “Okay,” he conceded, and it took me a moment to realize I had won the argument. “We’ll hold off for now.”
“Thanks,” I said, my voice a lot breathier than it should have been.
He kissed my forehead, then excused himself to go back to his house and get ready for the day.
I was left…befuddled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I noticed the car sitting in front of my house as I pulled up after work. If it was a paparazzo, they weren’t bothering to be inconspicuous. That meant either they were new at this, or they were brash and bloodthirsty.
I parked and quickly gathered my things, getting ready to make a dash for my front door, but when I glanced back at the mystery car, my hand froze where it sat poised on my car door handle.
Louisa Caster had just stepped out of the car.
Jonas’s mother was here.
My heart plummeted into the dark pit of my stomach and my eyes burned. Why hadn’t I thought of her? Why hadn’t I thought of any of Jonas’s family? They would have seen the photo. They would have read the accusations. Oh, my poor mother-in-law.
I stepped slowly from my car, my eyes fixed on Louisa where she stood, her knuckles white as she clutched her purse in front of her. Her eyes dropped to my mid-section, the line of her lips thin and stiff. When she looked back at my face, her eyes held accusation and anger.
“Louisa,” I began.
“I think it’s best if we speak inside, don’t you?” The chill in her voice left no room for argument.
I nodded and walked toward my front door, knowing she would follow. As I stood aside to let her in, I tried to smile in a welcoming, reassuring way, but she wouldn’t look at me. In fact, her expression turned to a glare as she faced my living room. I turned to see what she was looking at and found Sean facing away from us, a guitar in his lap, leaning forward to scribble on a notepad on the coffee table.
Not good, not good, not good.
He stopped writing. “I haven’t figured out dinner yet.” He glanced over his shoulder and then did a double take before standing up. “Libby—”
I cut him off. “Louisa, this is—”
“I don’t want an introduction,” she bit out.
Of course she didn’t. Time to explain, but first. “Sean, this is Jonas’s mom. I need you to go.”
His face went a couple shades paler as he stared at us. I gave him a pleading look and he pulled himself together. “Yeah, of course.” He grabbed his guitar and notepad and left through the back door.
“Louisa—”
She whirled on me. “It’s true!” she hissed in an angry whisper. “All of it’s true. Look at you, Libby!” She looked me over from head to toe in disgust. “Living with that musician, spitting on my son’s memory!”
“I’m not living with him. Our relationship isn’t like that.” I tried to speak firmly and without any hysterics. She had every right to be angry.
“I’m not blind, Libby.” She glared at my stomach.
My eyes stung and burned as the tears gathered. “The baby isn’t Sean’s. It’s Jonas’s,” I managed to get out before my throat choked with tears.
I dashed the tears away, trying to see Louisa’s face. It was twisted in anger and confusion and disbelief. “You expect me to believe that? When you have a man sitting in your living room, waiting for you to come home? He’s planning what to make for dinner, Libby!”