Chapter Fifty-Eight
Griffin
–Noah: You okay?
–Emmett: We need proof of life or we’re calling 911.
–Sebastian: I’m worried about you.
–Huxley: It’s going to blow over. Trust me on this.
–Nicholas: Tell me you’re okay.
–Grant: Don’t make me go over there.
When I open my eyes the next morning, I see hundreds of texts from my brothers. I only read the last six or seven and snort at Grant’s threat.
–Me: I’m not dead. I was sleeping.
There. That should shut them up.
–Emmett: Do you need anything?
–Grant: Are you hung over?
–Me: No. I didn’t drink.
The devastation I felt last night wasn’t something alcohol could soothe. The problem is that I don’t know what could.
–Nicholas: Good for you. Excessive drinking solves nothing.
–Me: I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.
It’s a lie. I feel anything but fine. As a matter of fact, I feel worse than I did yesterday. My career is fucked, all the respect I worked for lost. And the girl I thought was special couldn’t keep her mouth shut. The fact that I’m her sex toy muse is the final nail in the coffin.
Charles sent a couple of texts, but I don’t look at them. They aren’t going to be anything positive, and my mood is gloomy enough.
My phone rings. I stare at the ceiling. If it’s a gossip-seeking reporter, I’m going to pitch the phone against the wall.
The screen reads Mom. What does she want?
The phone quits ringing. Maybe she butt-dialed.
The phone starts ringing again. I pick it up.
“Haven’t you done enough?” I demand rudely. I’m beyond caring.
“What do you mean?”
“That damn article. All my adult life, I’ve only asked for one thing: keep me out of your melodrama. I told you I don’t want to be mentioned in any of the articles about you. I begged you to make sure our relationship didn’t become public. But no, you couldn’t do that.”
“Griffin, I did my best,” she says. “Nobody knew who you were for thirty-four years. It’s not my fault the paparazzi are persistent.” She pauses for a moment. “You knew you couldn’t hide forever. Eventually they were going to find out you’re Ted’s and my son.” Another pause. “Although the love-child angle is ridiculous. There was never any love between me and your father.”
“Who cares about your relationship with him?”
“I do!”
“Well, I don’t!” The ache in my head throbs. “Why are you even calling? To defend yourself?”