After All - Romancing Manhattan

“Hey. I need to talk. About Gabby.”

“I’m all ears.”

Chapter Fifteen

~Nora~

“I hate you!” Gabby screams before slamming her bedroom door in my face. I tip my forehead against the smooth wood and sigh heavily.

There is not enough wine in the world for this.

“Gabby, you have to give me your phone.”

The door is yanked open and Gabby throws her phone down the hallway, glares at me, and slams the door again.

Awesome.

Thankfully, the phone didn’t break. I pick it up on my way to the kitchen, where I pour the biggest glass of wine I’ve ever seen, and go into the living room. I set Gabby’s phone on the coffee table next to my own and sit back with another heavy sigh.

I’ve had some challenging days in my thirty-four years of life. I’ve been yelled at. I’ve been the one yelling.

But I don’t think anything in the world compares to the venom a twelve-year-old can spew in your face.

Maybe I should call my own mother and apologize for once being twelve myself.

That would shock the hell out of her.

I smirk and take another sip of wine then notice Gabby’s phone light up with a notification.

I reach for it and feel my eyebrows hit my hairline. It’s a notification from Instagram.

Insta-fucking-gram.

The same Instagram that her father forbade her from downloading onto her phone.

“Oh, Gabs. What are you doing?”

I try to open the app, but her phone is locked. Tapping in the first four digits of her birthday opens it easily enough, and I start to comb through her phone.

Starting with the ’gram.

“Jesus.”

The photos she’s posted are harmless enough. Selfies of herself in the car, at Maggie’s, at home. Photos of food, and shoes. It seems she really loves food.

There are even photos from London’s show.

Nothing bad, thank God.

But when I open her DMs, I’m absolutely freaking horrified.

There are some messages from kids she knows at school, mostly just asking her what she’s doing, if she knew that so-and-so was dating so-and-so. But then there are the messages from grown-ass men.

I set my wine aside and lean forward, gobbling up every word.

There have to be ten or more of them.

Different men, contacting Gabby, whose account is not set to private, to tell her she’s cute. To ask for more photos.

And she fucking sent them.

No nudes that I can see, thank Jesus. But more selfies. Lips puckered. Sly smiles.

She’s twelve, not twenty-three, for fuck’s sake.

One guy by the name of JaCoBsLaDdEr2001 seems to be her favorite. She’s chatted with him for days. Going back before she even asked if she could have the social media app.

It seems she downloaded it long ago, then asked if it was okay.

I guess Gabby goes by the motto of ask for forgiveness, not permission.

Some of the content has expired, so I can’t see exactly what she’s said, but then I see that he gave her a phone number.

So I close out of the app and look at her texts.

Yep, there he is.

New York number.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter. He’s sent tons of photos, including dick pics, and asked her for the same.

But she refused.

She did, however, tell him that her dad is out of town and offered him this address so he could come over.

I’ll sneak you in, she says.

“Like hell you will.”

I want to call this asshole and tell him to stay the fuck away from Gabby. I’ll kill him before I’ll let him touch her.

But before I can, the doorbell rings.

“You’re an idiot to ring the bell.” I stomp to the door and jerk it open. “You can’t exactly sneak in, you little son of a bitch, when you ring the bell.”

But it’s not a pedophile standing in the doorway.

It’s Finn.

“Not sneaking,” he says with a frown.

“Sorry.” I step back and let him in, then return to the couch. “What’s up?”

“Carter asked me to check in with you. Rather than call, I thought I’d stop by. Are you okay?”

“Just peachy.”

He stands and watches me for a moment. “I’m going to check on our girl.”

“Help yourself. Good luck that she doesn’t throw something at your head or try to slap you across the face.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters as he walks away. He’s only gone a few moments when he returns. “She’s out cold.”

“I’m sure the tantrums she’s thrown all day exhausted her.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

I shrug one shoulder, then pass Gabby’s phone to Finn. “First, have a look at this.”

He starts to read, then his brows plummet in a scowl as he pages through.

“Open Instagram, too.”

“I didn’t think she was allowed—”

“She’s not,” I interrupt and offer him an ironic grin. “Seems she does what she wants.”

Once he’s had enough of the phone, he sets it aside and rubs his hands over his face. “Do you have any more of that wine?”

“Sure.” I move to go get him some, but he shakes his head and gestures for me to stay where I am, then stands to get it himself.