The Truth About Lennon

I scoff. “Of course I did.”

“It’s a beautiful color.”

> I smile to myself, picturing Nova in her yellow dress as she twirls around her house…that is if she even got the dress. The look on Noah’s face that day was anything but happy, and as much as I hate to believe he would keep it from her, I just can’t be certain.

And if that isn’t a punch to the gut, I don’t know what is.

Tears burn my nostrils, and I break eye contact with Brenna to keep myself from crying. Lowering my head, I remind myself what tonight is all about. I’ve worked damn hard to make Children Everywhere a success, and it deserves my undivided attention. I need to hold my shit together, make it through the night.

“Want to talk about it?” Brenna asks.

“Not really, no.” I sniff.

Brenna snags a Kleenex off the sink and hands it to me. “He’s very handsome,” she says, garnering my full attention. “And his daughter is beautiful. I can see why you would be drawn to them.”

Bringing the Kleenex to my face, I blow my nose and the stare at Brenna. “Let me guess, my mom told you about him?”

She shakes her head.

“Mathis?”

Solemnly, she shakes her head again, and this time she pulls out her cell. “Have you been paying attention to the news at all?” she asks, flipping through something on her phone.

“Forgive me if I shy away. The media hasn’t exactly been my friend lately.”

“Well, they haven’t exactly been Noah’s friend either,” she says, offering me her phone.

On the screen is a picture of Noah getting into his car, followed by several more pictures of him. I scroll down. There are photos of him walking in and out of work and others of him with Mikey, but it’s the picture of him holding Nova, shielding her from the cameras, that causes dread to settle low in my gut.

“What is this?” I cry, shoving the phone back at her. “Are they harassing him and Nova? Why didn’t someone tell me this sooner? He must think I’m a bitch for not doing something about it.”

Brenna blocks my path when I go to step around her. “First,” she says, “you can’t control where the paparazzi go. Second, Noah has handled himself surprisingly well. Lastly, I’ve already taken care of it.”

“What do you mean, you took care of it?”

“It looks like a lot of pictures, but it’s really not. It was mostly just local media trying to get info on you, which he hasn’t given, in case you were wondering. Noah has been tight-lipped about everything. I made a few calls, and let’s just say things have died down.”

Okay, that was vague. “What do you mean, they’ve died down? What did you do?”

“Leni, in case you forgot, your father is a very powerful man. Don’t worry about what I did.” Brenna stuffs her phone in her clutch and leans over the sink, checking her reflection in the mirror. When she stands up she asks, “Can I be honest with you for a second?”

“I expect nothing less.”

Her face softens, and she smiles. Grabbing my hand, she leads me out of the bathroom and guides me to the edge of my bed. “It’s probably for the best,” she says, sitting down next to me.

“What is?”

“What happened with you and Noah. I’m sure the breakup has been hard on you, but it’s for the best.”

I don’t know why this is any of her business. But as I stare at her quizzically, she continues. “You and Noah live two incredibly different lives. Your father is likely going to move into the White House, and your mother lives in a house that’s bigger than the White House.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I scoff. “You think I don’t realize that all of this—my life—would inevitably be difficult for Noah and Nova?”

Brenna looks at me, head cocked to the side, lips pressed together as though she doesn’t know what to say.

“This is my life, Brenna. I’ve been the one to live it, not you. I’m well aware that I’m a Barrick-St. James, and the media will follow me wherever I go. I know my name guarantees that I’ll never be rid of them.”

And what kind of life is that for a kid? I remember how hard it was growing up in that world, how hard it was to fly under the radar. I don’t want that for Nova. Especially with her mother’s past. The image of Noah shielding Nova from the cameras rolls through my head. I don’t want that for him, or her. That’s the kind of life I was running from, but it doesn’t seem to matter how far or fast I run; that’s the life I was born in to and the life I seem destined to have.