Ashlynn Three Weeks Later
I wake to the once-again familiar sound of Cam breathing in my ear, and the smell of himâsoap and spring-time mountainsâenveloping me. The barricade of pillows I placed between us while we watched tv last night has somehow been discarded, and Cam's sleeping close. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body.
We've ended up like this a few timesâfalling asleep watching tv together. I really need to make sure it doesn't happen again, because I can tell from the way he's snuggled up against me that cancer and chemo treatment aside, he's still very much a red-blooded dude with a high libido.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised.
Cam always wins at everything. He's killed the second round of chemo. Knowing what to expect made all the difference for him, and he put his mind to overcoming the symptoms. He handled his recovery week with not much more than fatigue and a couple of days of nausea that kept him moving slow, but he stayed on his feet this time, instead of the bathroom floor.
And that was a good thing, because I've needed him as much as he's needed me. I've been a mess. I've cried every single day since I left LA.
The morning after I flew home to Atlanta, a courier arrived at my parents' door, with the replacement phone Leed had bought me, two lengthy legal documents and a note from Riley.
Leed would like all necessary final communications regarding press to go through me. Please call once you've had a chance to read over the NDA. Also included is MdM Philanthropies' Sweet Child Of Mine Foundation proposal. Marianne will serve as Chair of the Advisory Board, offering you the one year trial position as Operations Director. Should you accept the position, your board and staff appointments will be subject to MdM Philanthropy approval. Leed will underwrite as he indicated to Laurie Davis. His involvement will be strictly silent and all budgets/operations concerns will be guided by MdM Philanthropies.
Later in the morning, Riley sent a text link to the terse Official Press Statement Marcy released.
Leed Lawson and Ashlynn Ballard wish to respond to repeated reports of a serious relationship between them, and the rumors that Ms. Ballard is pregnant with Mr. Lawson's child. There was never a serious relationship nor pregnancy. Both parties feel their romantic interlude has run its course and are happy to remain friends. Mr. Lawson will be concentrating on his responsibilities as a new father and upcoming Soundcrush activities. He asks that the press respect Ms. Ballard's privacy, as she has no desire to remain a public figure.
Riley sent a second text:
Requests for your privacy will be ignored. Expect aggressive paparazzi. Trace contracted local security for you. Arriving within the hour.
The NDA and the Foundation proposal are still lying on the foyer table in my parent's house. Riley's note and the press statement, I'm carrying those words around with me.
Final communications. Never a serious relationship. Romantic Interlude. Run Its Course. Remain friends.
I didn't believe any of them the first time I read them. They barely scratched the surface of my thick skin. I was sure it was just a maneuver to protect me.
But every day of Leed's silence, the words are writing themselves deeper into my heartâan open wound much more painful than the hateful word that scars my flesh.
At first I cried just because I miss him so much, but every day I fall further into doubt that what we had was even real.
Am I just naive? Did I fall so fast and hard and completely for Leed that I just convinced myself he felt the same? Is he just a player that loves the game? Was I just an unaware friend with benefits all along? Were all those "I love you's" and "always" just reckless declarations from an impulsive creature with a runaway heart way out in front of his reason? Has his better judgment finally caught up with him?
I should be used to the taste of tears by now, but every morning I wake to the salt leaking down my throat, and I feel desperate to for a glass of water to wash them away. I try to roll quietly away from Cam but his arm comes around me, his fingers lacing over mine.
"One morning, you will wake without tears," he murmurs. "I promise you. It won't hurt this much, forever."
I take a long measured breath to be able to summon words. "How do you know?"
"Because I love you at least as much as you love him," he whispers, pulling my fingers back against his face. "See? No tears. Just love."
I burst into sobs. This is so fucked up.
Cam rolls me over, wraps his arms around me, letting my grieve for the lost love I know he can never replace, and yet I'm too selfish and needy and scared of using drugs again to push him away. I just hold on tight to him.
ââââââ
Two weeks later
My dad must have gotten up extremely. I can see him breezing into the kitchen from my vantage point on the sunporch where I'm doing my morning yoga. He puts a mixed tray of everyone's favorite coffee orders and a pink bakery box of danishes on the counter and strolls onto the sunporch with two of the cups, setting mine on a small sidetable while I tip into a tripod headstand. I smile at him upside down and waggle my toes in greeting as he throws himself into the corner of a deep-cushioned loveseat.
"Amazing," he says softly, rubbing his goatee and shaking his head slightly at me. "How do you do that, Sweet Pea?"
I kick it over and rise from a backbend, adjusting my ponytail as I drop down beside him. He hands over my coffee and I take a fortifying swig.
"Practice," I grin.
"You were always a good practicer," he agrees. He squints at me, "Do you play piano anymore?"
"Yes, of course. I've been hanging out with Soundcrush on and off for three years. I've actually gotten better, I think. Mac's a better keyboardist than meâmuch better at improv. I've picked up some things from her."
I fiddle with the tab on my coffee cup and stare at the house next door.
My dad throws an arm around me, looking me over carefully. I'm sure he notices that my eyes are red and puffy. They pretty much stay that way. "That," he sighs as he gestures at the Soundcrush house, "Seemed like such a good idea two months ago. But now...not so much. It's technically outside the rules of the neighborhood covenant to have a multi-family dwelling. I can talk to the HOA...make sure Trace knows the band is not welcome, given the circumstances."
I flash my dad a wan smile. "You still don't get your future son-in-law, do you? Telling Trace he's not allowed to do something is the best way to make him hell-bent on doing it, Dad. You try to bar his band, he'll put neon signs on the roof and fly in half of LA every weekend for a house party...and not give a flying flip about lawsuit the HOA will leverage against him. What's more, Kat will be the life of the party and shoot you birds from the Swan float in the pool. Probably topless."
My dad's groan ends in a mild chuckle. "You're right, Sweet Pea, you're right. I just want to protect you, though. I did such a bad job of it for the last five years." He kisses my scar. "I have no damn clue how to protect my adult daughters in this world. It was so easy when you were little. A baby gate, a life jacket, a bike helmet..."
"A shotgun," Cam's voice is filled with mischief as he strolls from the guest apartment with a gym bag.
"As I recall, that particular threat was not effective on you, Cameron," my father says dryly.
Cameron doesn't break his stride but he raises his hands in surrender and says, "Hey, Mikeâ I'm still perfectly willing to buy back what I stole," he tugs on my ponytail and slides to the kitchen for his coffee as I blush to tips of my ears.
"That's not funny," I call resentfully over my shoulder.
"'Cause I'm not joking," Cam tosses lightly as he peruses the danishes.
My dad is looking between us with raised eyebrows, but he says nothing. Now I think even my hair is blushing. I flip around on my knees and grip the back of the sofa.
"Where do you think you are going, anyway? You should be in bed."
"If you wanted me to stay in bed, you shouldn't have gotten up," he smirks as he tears into the Danish with his perfect even little teeth.
"Cameron Martin!" I scold. My parents retire to their room early and I always get up before them to do yoga...I'm not sure they realize Cameron and I are accidentally sharing a bed some nightsâonly because I fall asleep there watching tv. Or crying. "Just stop. I mean it."
His smiles is genuine. "I'm sorry, Ashlynn. It's just...it's still as much fun as ever to tease you."
I glare at him and cut a side-eye to my dad, who's pretending to look at his phone and drink his coffee.
I keep scolding. "Seriously, Cam. You just got off shift six hours ago and you had chemo last week. Aren't there rules about interns getting enough sleep so they don't make mistakes and kill people?"
"It's my day off, remember?"
I blink. No, I didn't remember. I'm in a fog nearly all the time. It's like my brain is on a Leed detox.
"Oh." I take in his appearance. He's wearing athletic shorts and a tight tank top that not only shows his biceps, but the rippling six pack beneath. He's been to the gym three times already this week. "You sure you should be lifting so much? You just had surgery eight weeks ago. And chemo last week," I repeat.
"Baby, I'm fine. I might lose my hair to cancer, but I'll be damned before I lose this," he taps his pecs, sliding his hands down his abs. I roll my eyes. It seems a life threatening illness only sidelined Dr. Quarterback for a couple of weeks, and now he's back in the game.
I flounce back around on the sofa beside me dad, smiling softly at my coffee, thinking of the funny, mean names Leed has for Cam. I don't where he comes up with them, but they have never seemed more appropriate to me. I love CamâI will always love himâbut for some reason, I see for the first time what Trace has always saidâthat Cam takes his "privilege" for granted. I'm pretty sure he's already looking past the "win" with me to the next big game. Like I'm the sure victory and he has to keep his eyes on the bigger game down the roadâhis career. Staying in shape, looking great, feeling confidentâthat's all part of his "career training."
He's talking to my mom now. "Good morning, Mrs. Ballardâyou are still as pretty as a bride," I think that's a weird thing for Cam to say until he follows it up with, "Happy anniversary." I hear her murmur thanks and she's probably hugging him from the way she sounds muffled.
Shit! My brain right now...I have no clue what the date is. "Sorry, Daddy," I hug him. "Happy anniversary."
He kisses the top of my head in thanks and rises. He elbows Cam off my mom. "Not a bride. My bride. You're stealing my thunder."
My fair father envelops my dark haired mother in a hug. "This is the twenty-eighth anniversary of the best decision I ever made. I'm so glad I didn't bolt out of the church." He winks at her and she swats at him, but tilts her head up to receive his kiss.
"Happy Anniversary on the luckiest merger you ever made," she winks at him. "Let's all go out to dinner to celebrate?" she looks expectantly at me then Cam.
"Twenty eight years of love is a wonderful thing to celebrate. I'm in," Cam agrees, putting an arm around me. "Hey, you have your acupuncture in a little bit, right? Can you do me a favor and pick me up a suit from my apartment, since it's a block away?" He disconnects a key and gives it to me. "Just keep the key, I have a spare in the car. Annnnddd...I'm out. After the gym I'm headed to the medical library to do some research for grand rounds tomorrow. What time are we leaving for dinner?" he looks at my mom.
"I already made a reservation at Bones for 8...I'll call and add two," my dad winks at me.
"Okay, I'll be back in plenty of time to shower and change."
"Wonderful!" my mom beams.
"Wait...hold up..." I look around at three faces surprised at my protest. "I don't think Cam and I should go. You two should have a romantic dinner, not a wade through a sea of paparazzi."
They've been following me everywhereâto acupuncture, to yoga, to Starbucks. After one grabbed off my sunglasses, Trace lost his shit and now I have two bodyguards to keep a perimeter.
I hate going out in public. It's embarrassing, all this attention. Famous for getting dumped by Leed Lawson? Actually, it's beyond embarrassing. It's pathetic.
"Ashlynn, you can't become a hermit. The harder you try not to be photographed, the more valuable shots of you become and the longer they will persist," my mother explains, as if I were still a child and didn't understand the dubious nature of my unwilling celebrity. I snort. Kat probably explained all that to her.
I've been mostly keeping my conversations with Kat brief, to avoid asking her how and what and who Leed is doing.
Cam kisses me casually on the temple and rubs my back. "Your mom is right. In fact you should hold your head high and dress to kill tonight. Fuck himâshow off that revenge body."
I sigh. I do have a revenge bodyâbut not because I've tried to lose weight or gain tone. Just because, I'm too sad to eat and I do more yoga than ever. It keeps my mind off Leed and keeps my cravings for oxy curbed.
"I didn't bring any dress clothes," I mumble.
"You could wear that pretty dress upstairs in that big box," Cam winks at me. "I'd like to see you in that." He pretends to look confused. "Or wait...that would be bad luck, wouldn't it?"
"Ha-ha." It's not a wedding gown but it is mostly ivory and very beautiful. Cam keeps insisting that it looks like a wedding dress for a classic bride who also has a little dark streak. He keeps teasing me about getting the cart before the horse. He said, "Let a guy keep his pride and get you a ring before you pick out a dress, ok?"
My mom isn't in on the joke...she thinks he's serious. "Oh Cam don't be silly...she can't wear that to dinner, but we can certainly go shopping for a nice dress this afternoon."
They all bustle off like everything is settled, leaving me holding the key to Cam's apartment. I shove it in my sports bra resentfully. I'm not putting in on my key chain.
Once I'm in the car alone, on my way to the acupuncturistâletting one of the security guys driveâI text "Gene Smith" aka Varrick Von. Officially, he's on a business trip, wooing a client in Brazil, but actually he's in Costa Rica, trying to find evidence that Viggo was there at the time of Megan's death.
Me: Anything?
"Gene": He was here.
But he didn't come with murderous intent.
Me: How do you know?
"Gene": He used his Diplomatic passport to travel
That's always too well documented.
Finally found a clerk at the German Embassy
I could bribe for the record.
I huff. If it was so easy, had no oneâthe police, Varrick himselfâthought to check out Viggo's alibi? I guess I'm one of the few people that sees him as highly likely to kill someone and like doing it.
Me: That doesn't mean it wasn't a crime of passion
Or insanity, but I don't say that. This is very hard on Varrick. I can't believe I feel sorry for him, but I do.
"Gene": Yes. But without a body there is no crime.
The only way to search for her
Is to recreate Viggo's movements step by step
Twenty years ago before social media?
Before security cameras on every corner?
In a third world, cash based area?
It's an impossible task.
I sigh.
Me: So you are giving up?
"Gene": No. I can't. Not now.
Not now that he believes Viggo murdered her, he means.
Me: I'm glad.
"Gene": I'm going to keep digging until I come back for the Grammy's.
Viggo will be suspicious if I don't attend his party.
Heat spreads across my skin, making every inch of me feel...tight, like all my feelings are trying to escape. I take a sip of water, trying to wash them down into a small space inside.
I was supposed to go the Grammy's with Leed, but of course, not now. Tamara actually called last week, explaining to me that I had to confirm her cancellation of my final gown fitting. She was very quiet and apologetic.
"I'm sorry. I hate to bother you with this, but they are extremely professional at Givenchy. They always confirm cancellations with the actual client, to make sure there are no miscommunication. Expect a call from Lorena Ricci. You don't have to explain anything, okay? Just tell her you don't need the gown."
But because I'm break-up crazy right now? When the Givency employee called, I told her to send the gown here. Now it's sitting in my old bedroom in a giant box. I know it's stupid and ridiculous, but I just want to see what I would have looked like. I never even got to put it on...it's vintage and had to be completely reworked because the movie star who wore it all those years ago was much more petite than me. I know that I'm probably going to do something ridiculous like cry and snot all over it and then I'll be spending a hundred thousand dollars just to buy the damn thing instead of the standard "leasing" of itâbut sometimes when your heart is completely broken, you are self-destructive, and you just want to keep bleeding.
So every day, I take the lid off the box and look at the fairy tale gown and miss my Prince.
âââââ
Later, as I'm shopping with my mom, I get a call from Mac. My thumb moves to decline, but at the last second I answer.
"Hi ex-Sis," I joke likely.
"Not funny," she says softly. Too soft. Way too soft.
"Why do you sound like that? Is something wrong? Is it Leed?"
"Do you care?" she asks again, deadly calm.
"Yes, of course I care. You're scaring me."
"You should be scared," she says with the sweetness in the world. She's really freaking me out right now.
I look around, suddenly feeling nervous. "Are you coming to kill me?" I whisper.
"I should fucking kill you!" she shouts, all sweetness evaporated in the boil of her rage "How could you do this? I don't understand!!! Do you know how awful it is to be...to be Leedâall giant hearted like thatâand have it ripped out?"
"I didn't rip his heart out," I hiss hiding from my mother behind a clearance rack in Nordstrom. "I told him we needed a breather to calm down, and he told me not to come back to LA and broke up with me in a press statement!"
She pauses. "What? No. He's definitely acting like you broke up with him. He won't talk about you at all but he's day drinking at Grammy rehearsals. He's so drunk every day he keeps flubbing the lyrics to the special cover we have to perform. We haven't had a clean run-through yet, and the producers are talking about pulling our performance and even Matt fucking del Marco can't do a goddamn thing with him. I'm not telling you this because I'm worried about the show. I'm telling you this because Leed does not fuck up his performance like this. Ever. He's ruined over you. You need to get on a planeâtoday. Come fix my brother before he hurts himself."
"It's not just a simple break-up, okay? It's complicated."
"Adam told me about Varrick Von. Look, I don't care what psycho is out to get you, because he's not gonna get you. Trust me...bitches like you and me are hard to kill. Cain Gannon is walking around free now and he's shopping his lies about how he and I were lovers and I'm into auto-erotic asphyxiation and he was wrongfully imprisoned to cover up his tell-all in the first place and I don't give a fuck about it. I don't care what he does to my reputation. And neither does Adam. I'm still living my life exactly like I want. Cain Gannon doesn't matter. Varrick Von doesn't matter. What matters is that you love Leed and he's dying without you, okay?"
I'm silent, because I absolutely agree with her. If were just a matter of me, I would be with Leed right now. But it's not about me. Or Varrick Von. It's about Leed. And Slade. And nothing I can say to Mac is going to make her understand.
Right at that exact moment, my friend Penelope texts me a string of angry emoji's. I put Mac on speaker phone while I read the text, "I thought Leed was so nice when I worked for them, but he's acting like a douche. I'm so sorry. Call me." I thumb the link that is below her text.
It's a TMZ article, "The Lion Loves The Single Life."
Embedded in the article are three pictures taken this week of Leed clubbing with various starletsâ close-talking, smiling, drinking with them. He's wearing different clothes in each shot, so obviously he's been out a lot this week. The one that hurts the most is the fourth and final pictureâthe girl the article speculates might have won herself top honors this week.
Sophie Marin, the Angel that was the closest thing he ever had to a girlfriend, before me, all over my man. In that picture, he's wearing sunglasses, holding her hand, pulling her into a limo, with a smirk on his face. She's wearing her fuck-me expression which is much larger than the teeny body-con tube dress that's thisclose to wardrobe malfunction. I see Leed has a small object in his hand.
His house key on my sunflower chain. He's taking her home.
Pain flashes all over me. Like real, horrible, paralyzing pain. So sharp and overwhelming, I think I might collapse and die.
I can't move. I can't blink. I can't do anything but stare at Leed's expression and the key to his houseâmy key. He doesn't even need a key...he has keypads...why would he have that in his hand? Is he giving it to Sophie?
For one long moment in time, I want to die.
But Mac is right. Her and me? We're hard to kill. After an unending moment of agony and Mac asking over and over if I'm still there, I take the pain and I turn it to the only purpose that will keep me off the floor sobbing right now.
I let the pain flip my bitch switch.
"He's dying without me you say? Is that why he needs Sophie Marinâto fucking resuscitate him?" I hiss at Mac.
She's quiet. "Look it's almost Grammy week. It's just a publicity stunt-all the clubbing. It even looks like Adam and I have been out four timesâbut it was two nights and we changed in the limo and we were literally only at each club for about twenty minutes. It's just part of the job. It doesn't mean anything. He's not having fun."
"He had fun with Sophie Marin. He's putting her in a limo in the picture. He took her home and fucked her, didn't he?"
She makes a sound of frustration. "I don't fucking know, Ash. He's been surprisingly tight lipped about it. But if he did, it's just his way of pushing away the pain of being apart from you. Adam and I did that shit to each other so many times. It didn't mean anything. He loves you. He's completely lost without you. He can't be held responsible for where his drunken devastation leads him right now. He is a rock star, you know..."
Mac says he's lost, but I'm still staring at the picture of Leed, guiding Sophie with a hand almost on her assâprobably guiding her right toward the bed we shared and a good fucking.
There's only one thing to doâwhen someone blows a hole through you like Leed is hitting me.
Fire back.
"Mac, I've got to go. I'm shopping."
"Shopping? You're shopping? My brother is imploding, Soundcrush is tanking, my baby is crying, my boobs are leaking, and you are shopping?!?!?" she screeches.
"Yes. You know what? I have a date tonight. You'll probably see the dress I pick out on TMZ tomorrow."
"Oh my god, Ashlynn, if you fuck Dr. Can't-Find-Your-Clit just to get back at Leed I will actually kill you."
That really pisses me off. What the fuck is Mac's problem? I'm supposed overlook the fact that Leed is getting under his ex to get over me but I can't do this same?
"You can try, bitch."
"Oh fuck no. Listen hereâ"
I hang up the phone. I ignore Mac's several calls back and gather up five tiny pink dresses.
Finally she texts: You got balls, but we aren't done, bitch. Don't make me come there.
I refuse to fight tears over losing Mac too, so I text back: If you come you better bring your dick, because I don't fuck with pussies.
She immediately texts back: Oh my god, Pollyanna, what is happening to you? You are dying inside too, aren't you?
Yes, I'm dying but I can't let Leed kill me. I can run my shit just as well as he runs his.
I pocket the phone and stalk over to my mother, holding up the sexy dresses for her to see.
She sucks on her lips a long moment. "Those will all look wonderful on you, But you and Cam are in a confusing place right now...you know he's never stopped loving you, and if you're not in the same place...Ashlynn are you sure want to dress that sexy? He might take it as a sign that you are encouraging his flirtation..."
"I am encouraging his flirtation. As of right now."
I thrust the picture of Leed and Sophie in my mother's face.
The gold color drains from it. "Oh Sweetheart, I'm sorry. But be careful...okay? You and Cam...I think you two might really be made for marriage. The last thing you should do is toy with his heart, while yours is hurting. Maybe just...wait until the dust settles. Wait until you are sure this about you and Cam, not you and Leed."
"I thought you liked Leed." I narrow my eyes at her.
"I like him tremendously. But it doesn't mean that Cameron might not be a better partner for you."
Why is everyone in my life pissing me off today? I breathe in and out and focus on not going on off on my mother. She's been nothing but wonderful to me this last month. And she's not wrong, in her advice, I just don't care to be right, right now.
I smile. "Advice duly noted. Now, are you going to give me your opinion on which dress?"
My mom smiles at me bleakly and holds out her hands for the hangers. "Of course."
We disagree on which dress is best. She likes the most modest bell sleeve A-line mini. I opt for the blush colored bodycon with a halter tie . The lotus-like floral pattern on the bust that accentuates my rack. It's very feminine and delicate. Leed would have loved it.
I hope he hates seeing Cam's hand on my bare back in the papers tomorrow.
Revenge body. Check.
Revenge dress. Double-check.
Revenge sex? TBD.
Wow, how do we feel about Ashlynn in this chapter? Break-ups do make you crazy sometimes...so they are so painful. In this chapter, she seems more like the Ashlynn we met for the first time way back in EPIC more than any other time since, I think. Are we worried about her?
Do you think Leed slept with Sophie? Will Ash sleep with Cam. Does that even matter? What's going to happen at the Grammy's?