“Right. Your site views and subscribers are through the roof. Have you looked at your social media?”
“I don’t care about any of that. I just want you to be okay.”
“Don’t do this. You don’t have to pretend anymore. You got what you wanted.”
“Not if I don’t have you.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
“Whoever did this wants us to be separated. Don’t allow them to win.”
A car pulls into the driveway, and I watch as Jackson Lawson steps out of his black BMW with a knowing smile. “Like I said before, Anders, I’ll always be around.”
“Did you really do all of this to prove a point?” I shove him backward.
“Why the hell would I put my child through this, you fame hungry bastard?” He shoves me back.
“I did not do this,” I growl, balling my fists.
“You’re the only one who gained anything from it.”
“It wouldn’t be worth it if I lost her.” I gesture toward the door.
Jackson blinks and rocks back on his heels.
The door opens. “What are you doing here?” Matilda’s face is puffy, and her eyes are red-rimmed. Her voice is thick, and I can feel her hurt in my soul.
“I came to see if you were okay,” we both say at the same time.
My blood boils. “You lost that right.”
“You shouldn’t be alone right now, Tild
a,” Jackson says softly. “Misplaced trust in someone you care for is difficult.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I explode.
“Just go. Both of you,” she whispers brokenly. “I have to pull myself together for Clem today. And you need to go back to your fiancée.”
His phone rings, and the song “Girlfriend” by Charlie Puth blasts out of the speaker.
“Better hurry, Brittany’s calling,” I say.
He answers his phone. “What? ... I’m at Tilda’s. ... Because of what happened. ... No, Clem is in school. ... Fine.” He hangs up and turns back to Matilda. “You know where I am if you need me. I’ll see you at the bake sale.” He moves to the end of the porch and stops. “You coming?” he asks.
“After I’ve said my piece.”
“Leave, Jackson,” Tilly snaps.
“I’m watching you, Anders.” He gestures from his eyes to me with two fingers as he returns to his car.
Ignoring him, I focus on the woman in front of me.
“I didn’t do this, Tilly. I never would. Not to you or Clem. I don’t know what it’ll take to convince you of that.”
“I don’t either,” she whispers.
“I know you need some time. I’ll give you that now. Just know, I’ll be back. Because what we have is worth fighting for. I hope you come to the same conclusion.” I want to handcuff myself to her front door like a passionate activist trying to save an endangered plant species. Everything in me protests as I walk away, but my mind is already forming a strategy. She thinks my work is the most important to me. If I want to keep her, I need to prove her wrong. The words forming in my mind bring me peace and hope. My fingers are itching for the keys as I drive.