“I don’t want him to know about the baby unless it is imperative.”
Luke’s eyes were wide with concern. When he leaned closer to her phone, she switched it to speaker so he could hear.
“What do I do now, legally?” she asked.
“When someone files a conservatorship, you are meant to have a period of time to respond to it. I’ll send a response vigorously rejecting the need. I’ll make sure it’s well documented that we expect and will take legal measures to ensure that we get that period of notice. The best way to stave off conservatorship is to get ahead of it. Thankfully, your dad’s ego has got ahead of him, and he’s shown his hand.”
“I knew he wasn’t going to like this. But I thought the worst that would happen was that he would be pissed. I’ll be honest, I’d reconciled in my own head that he might never speak to me again. But this? I never imagined this.”
A documentary had been made about the female pop star. About how steps were skipped and doctors fudged assessments. She could only hope her father wasn’t dumb enough to suggest it, that his lawyers’ moral compass was strong enough to refuse any hair-brained schemes, and Sasha was smart enough to stay one step ahead of him.
“Meanwhile, you should fire your dad officially as your manager, and when you do, I’ll take action to freeze the assets of the business before he starts the conservator process. This is going to get messy quickly. Are you sure you want to do this now, Willow?”
Fury reached her throat, choking the words. “If he is willing to try to challenge my mental capacity to make sure he gets to keep all the money, then there is no way forward beyond protecting what’s mine from him.”
“What a dick,” Luke muttered.
“Okay. So, we are on the attack. Let me get on with what I need to do. I’ll keep you updated.”
When the call disconnected, Willow put her phone down on the table.
“Will,” Luke said softly.
The gentleness in his tone almost broke her, until anger spilled over, filling her from head to toe, pulsing with every beat of her heart.
“You know what? Just go. Wherever it was you were going to.” He smelled good. Like soap and cologne which was annoyingly subtle. “I’ve got things I need to take care of.”
And with that, she shoved her chair back from the table, and marched to her room, giving the door a satisfying slam.
Luke blew out a breath.
Whatever had just happened, there was more to it than just the call. And while he wanted to go to her, to check she was okay, it felt like the hallway to her bedroom was littered with a thousand land mines.
He’d been able to catch chunks of the phone call, his head close enough to hers to overhear, then on speaker. Her dad was going to try and take legal control of her. Luke thought back over the conversations they’d had, the worries she felt. People only wanting her for what they could get out of her.
Shit.
That her own father would try to say she was mentally unstable.
He looked over to the bedroom door. There was nothing mentally unstable about the competent woman who was working hard to save the career she’d built, while pregnant, and having to deal with being and living in a foreign country.
Quickly, he fired off a text to Ben and Alex letting them know he wouldn’t be joining them for drinks in the Gay Village down by Canal Street.
He slipped his jacket off, draping it over the chair, then walked to her room. Setting his shoulders, he knocked, then pushed the door open. Willow was seated on the bed, her head in her hands. An overwhelming urge to scoop her up into his arms passed through him, but he got a distinct vibe that she wouldn’t appreciate that.
“Talk to me, Willow.” When she didn’t look up, he walked to the bed and sat down next to her. “What can I do?” He placed his hand on her back, but she shrugged it off and jumped to her feet.
“I told you. You can go. Go out and have fun with your friends. I’ll be right here trying to find the right words to fire my dad and trying to keep my heart rate below a hundred beats per minute because stress isn’t good for the baby.”
His dad had been so good at helping his mum with any problem she ever faced. He always seemed to know the right thing to say. Meanwhile, Luke was struggling to form a half-coherent sentence that wouldn’t make the situation worse.
“Come sit back down. Or we can go into the living room and talk about it. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Comfortable?” Willow huffed. “I haven’t been comfortable since the moment I boarded the damn plane. No. Wait. I haven’t been comfortable since I peed on a stick. Every single aspect of my life is on its head. My career. My finances. My body. My family. Everything. And yet, here I am, walking on eggshells with you, because God forbid me being here hits a nerve for you. I’m sorry it’s such a horrific idea that I’m pregnant with your kid and this is all such an inconvenience for you.”
“First, it’s not horrific. If I’d planned to get married and have kids, I’d be lucky to have you. It’s just taken some time to get used to. And it’s not an inconvenience. We’re in it together.”
Luke remembered something Cerys had said to Matt and Jase that helped turn their relationship around. What people fought about and what they were actually angry about were two different things. While he didn’t relish the idea of being a punching bag, he’d take it for her.
“What happened this evening? I thought it was great that you were going out with the girls, making your own friends and doing something social. I was heading out to have a drink with Alex and Ben, and then, we were going to find you and join you.”
“What happened was a grilling. No, shit. That’s not fair. They were funny . . . playful. But they wanted to know what was going on. And they told me how I should make all these allowances for you. They’re your friends, and yes, I could see them being mine in time. But, Jesus. Can somebody just be on my fucking side? Just mine. For once. Beyond me paying people like my lawyer to have my back.”
“Was it Iz? Do you need me to talk to her?”
“You know what? I need your friends to see you aren’t the only one making allowances here. You think I wanted to uproot my life and come and live in a foreign country for twelve months because puritanical skin care brands and clothing lines are obsessed with stereotypes? As if being a single mom is the worst thing that could happen to a woman, and it shouldn’t be something they aspire to. Because it sends the wrong message to young girls.” Willow paced back and forth. “I’d rather be home, where I know the difference between a pharmacy and a chemist, and jelly and jam. And where people don’t use a cup of tea as a cure for everything from feeling cold to depression. Instead, I’m here. Trying to create content that I have to think about all day to make sure it requires the absolute minimum effort from you, so you don’t huff and puff about the freaking inconvenience.”
“Will, please. I’ll be more accommodating when it comes to the content.” He reached for her wrist. “Don’t get upset.”
“Don’t get upset? Don’t. Get. Upset. I’m not upset. I’m furious. This isn’t just about you. It’s about . . . urgh . . . everything. You know what? This is a stupid fucking idea. I thought I could do this. I don’t think I can. I’ll just spin what we’ve got.”