Grady clears his throat. “No, well, sort of. How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’ve been better.”
“What’s wrong?” I question as I take a sip of my coffee.
“Someone threw a brick through my window last night,” he says with a sigh. I place my coffee mug back on the counter.
“A brick?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow, sorry, that sucks. Are you OK?” I question.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Calvin has us meeting with our new security firm tomorrow. So, that’ll be good. And hopefully, they catch the asshole who keeps doing shit like this.”
“I hope they can too.”
“You want to grab some coffee today?”
I look at the stack of books on my coffee table. It’s like they are mocking me. But my heart wins out over my head.
“Sure.”
“Great. I’ll come to get you in about an hour.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I reply. “See you in a bit.”
“Bye, Emma.”
I hang up and stare at my coffee. Guess I’ll leave it for later. I’m gonna need it tonight, I think as I glance once more at my homework before heading to shower.
Promptly forty-five minutes after my shower, there’s a knock at my door. I open it to find a grinning Grady.
“You ready?” he asks, giving me a panty-melting smile. I can see why girls flock to him. He’s ridiculously handsome in that boy-next-door, not-even-trying way.
“Yeah,” I mutter as I grab my purse and shut my door. We walk to the café a few blocks from my apartment. He tells me more about the incident at his home.
“I don’t know how celebrities do it,” I say once he finishes.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, deal with all of that. Stalkers, the press, everything.”
He shrugs. “You just do. It’s part of it. There’s good and bad.”
“I suppose,” I agree as he holds the door to the café open. We order lattes and find a quiet table in the corner. No one bats an eye at him or me. It’s nice, normal even.
“Can I ask your advice about something?”
His question catches me off guard. “Uh, s-sure,” I say, stumbling over the words.
“I…God, I don’t even know where to start.”
I haven’t seen him flustered like this since he apologized for breaking things off with me. I reach across the table and place my hand over his. “Take your time. Maybe, start at the beginning.”
He looks up at me, his head slightly bowed. His beautiful eyes look so, sad.
“What I’m about to tell you is…” He looks around but the café is nearly empty, and no one is sitting close to us. “Promise you won’t say a word to anyone. I can trust you, right?”
His face is earnest, so hopeful. It makes me wonder what others have done to him to have him question my trust. I realize we haven’t known each other for long, but the thought that he is so protected is a reminder of his fame and the unfortunate downside of the life he’s lived.
“Of course, you can,” I say, squeezing his hand before grabbing my coffee.
“I have a brother,” he whispers, looking around again.
“A brother?” I repeat, frowning because nowhere in anything I read did it mention a brother.
He nods. “When my dad died, he left some stuff to me. I didn’t go through it all. Honestly, it was too painful at first and then I got busy. Anyhow, I found this box inside an old trunk about two years ago. It had notes, photos. There was a woman. He had an affair not long after I was born. I suspected from the notebooks and photos that the woman had a baby. I questioned my mom about my dad’s fidelity, but she just said she was ninety-nine percent sure he hadn’t cheated on her. She did admit they went through a rough patch when I was a few years old. They almost separated, but in the end, they worked it out and stayed together.” He pauses and I can tell he’s struggling to tell me this. I can’t blame him; this is heavy stuff to tell an old friend, let alone a new one. He takes a sip of coffee. I’m quiet, letting him pause before continuing. “Last year, I decided to hire a PI to track him down. And the PI found him. I got his information a few weeks ago.”
“Are you going to contact him?” I ask, truly curious.
He shrugs. “That’s why I’m confiding in you. You have this air about you, Emma. This, wise-beyond-your-age persona. I know this is crazy and we just met, but I feel like I can tell you anything. I feel like I can be vulnerable with you, which is a strange fucking feeling, and even stranger that I can admit that to you,” he confesses.
I squeeze his hand again and he turns his over, gripping mine like I’m the strength he needs right now. It’s raw and powerful, and I shiver at the contact.
“You should reach out,” I urge without thought.
“Really?”
I nod. “If you don’t, you’ll always wonder. Does he know about you? Would he want to? But…have you thought about what will happen if the press gets wind of it? Does your mom know?” I question, the thought of Blythe suddenly has me concerned for the woman who’s become like a mother figure to me in the past weeks.
He sighs and closes his eyes. When he opens them, I can already see the pain and I know the answer before he speaks. “No…I haven’t said a word to her.”
“You know you have to, right?”
“I know,” he replies with a grimace. “I just…it’s gonna break her heart. How do I break her heart?” He looks into my eyes and I can imagine him as a child, innocent and wanting to please his parents. The most powerful urge to protect him comes over me as we lock gazes.
“Look at it this way. What if this guy finds out and goes to the press on his own? Then what? At least by doing it this way, you have control. You can prepare for it,” I point out as I run my thumb over his palm.
“I suppose. I mean, that’s a good point, it’s just…” He trails off and stares across the shop at nothing.
“I know. I’m sorry. I wish there was another way, but I can’t think of one.”
“No, you’re right. I guess I just needed to hear it out loud. It’s not as though I haven’t thought of everything you’ve just said. It just sounds different when someone else says it to you.”
“I can be there with you, if that would help,” I offer.
“No, it’s something I need to do on my own.”
I nod. “I understand. And I agree.”
“Thank you, Emma,” he says, his thumb brushing over mine.
“You’re welcome,” I say, smiling shyly back at him. We finish our coffee with much less heavy conversation before he walks me back to my apartment. His kiss goodbye is short, sweet even. It’s his hug that catches me off guard. He envelops me in his arms, squeezing me as though I was his only lifeline, a life raft in the open water.
“Thank you again,” he whispers in my ear.
I squeeze him back. “You’re welcome,” I whisper back before he releases me. His hand caresses my cheek as he steps back.