It was only just after eight in the morning by the time I signed off from my early Zoom meeting with my East Coast team. We were looking at potential locations for new studios as I continued my expansion plans out East. I’d been in full business mode while the team talked to me about numbers, demographics, and potential opportunities. I was focused and sharp, the way I always was when it came to Go With The Flow.
But the second I shut the lid of my laptop, the silly smile that had been on my face since Blaze dropped me off the night before once more took its place on my face. I felt like a schoolgirl in love for the first time.
But it was more than that, because I was a forty-one-year-old woman in love for the first time. That’s what it was, too. I knew it in my heart.
Love.
The word should scare me more than it did. Especially considering I’d done such a good job avoiding it for my entire adult life. I felt anything but scared. Blaze felt right. Everything about him felt right. Except for being apart from him.
For the first time, I understood my girlfriends and why they always wanted to spend all their time with their men. The desire to see Blaze was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. To just be with him and talk to him…
I laughed out loud at myself, fully aware that I was acting ridiculous, but I didn’t care. Not one little bit.
In the kitchen, I boiled the water to brew myself a cup of tea and was just about to head out to my deck to spend the morning, when my phone rang. At the same time, there was a knock on the door.
It was unusual enough to get a call so early in the day, especially when I saw it was Jessie’s face on the screen. With my phone in my hand, I pressed Accept as I started walking toward the front door.
“Don’t answer the door,” Jessie barked into the phone.
“What?” I froze mid-step. “How did you—”
“Is there someone there already? Don’t answer it.”
Unsure, I stood in the small hallway of my home, unmoving. The excitement and peace I’d felt only moments before had given way to a new sensation. One I didn’t like nearly as much. My feet tingled and a trail of wariness traveled up my spine.
“Jessie?” My voice shook. “What’s going—”
“Brittany and Abby are on their way over,” she interrupted. “I’d be there too, but I’m out of town.”
Vaguely, I remembered her telling us that she’d be accompanying Shane on a trip to Florida.
“We’re two hours ahead here,” she continued. “That’s how I know.”
“Know what?”
“Wait for Britt and Abby,” Jessie said. “They should be there any minute. They’ll come in the back.”
I put the call on speakerphone, worry beginning to crawl over me as I moved to my kitchen and the back door. I slid the patio door open and a second later, I heard Jessie yell, “Don’t go outside!”
“But my deck—”
“Trust me, Darla. Stay inside. Out of view.”
That was it. I needed to know what was going on. “Jessie,” I spoke into the phone, “tell me what’s going on. Is everyone okay? Is it Sandy? Where’s Sandy?”
“Sandy’s fine. She’s at the ranch with Dylan and the kids.” There was a pause. “This is about you, Darla. You and Blaze.”
My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. I slid into a chair at the table right as Brittany and Abby appeared at my patio door. Everything moved quickly after that. They slipped inside, tugged the door closed, and tightened the curtains, shutting out the gorgeous day.
It wasn’t until someone put a mug of tea in front of me—Jessie, joined by Sandy, were on a video call on my phone in front of us, and Abby and Britt had both pulled up chairs—that I asked, “How bad is it?”
I wasn’t stupid. Blaze Barron was beyond famous. There’d been cameras all over the event the night before and we’d…well, we’d put on a bit of a show for anyone who happened to be watching. And everyone had been watching.
“The world knows about us now, I suppose.” I shrugged and chuckled a little. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of my picture being splashed all over the internet and on every magazine cover in the checkout line at the grocery store. But also, I didn’t really care. Not if that’s what it meant to be with Blaze. I’d only just made the decision to be with him and take a chance I’d never taken before with feelings I’d never felt before. It’s not like I was going to run away now. Not because of a few photos. I told my friends as much.
Abby reached over and put her hand over mine. “Darla, I’m so happy for you that you finally let yourself open up to all of this and the idea of being with someone. And…Blaze. He’s such a great guy…and…”
I tipped my head and looked at her quizzically. “You sure don’t look happy for me, Abby. And your energy.” I waved my free hand around in her direction. “Really, both of you.” I directed myself to Brittany as well. “What is going on with the two of you? You both are so tense.”
“Darla, I don’t think you understand,” Brittany started.
“I do.” Peace flowed through me as I realized finally why my friends had gathered around me. I was a private person and the furthest thing from a celebrity who would like my photo taken. Of course they’d be concerned that I’d freak out having my photo show up online. But what they didn’t understand was that I was okay with that part of Blaze’s life. And if not okay, I’d accept it. Because, despite myself, my feelings for him were growing by the second.
I tried again to explain it to them.
“Look,” I said with a light smile. “I’m not thrilled about the idea of being in the public spotlight. But that’s part of who Blaze is. He said himself that he had a lot to be thankful for when it came to his fans, and he’s quite open with them. If I’m going to be with him, then—”
“Be with him?” On the video, Sandy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Is that what I seriously just heard you say? You want to be with him? I mean, like a couple? Not just…”
“Not just one of your friends?” Abby finished for her.
I didn’t hesitate with my answer. If anything, the time that had passed since I’d told Blaze the same thing had only concreted how I felt. “Yes,” I said. “I really do.”
“Then you need to see this.” Brittany pressed her lips together and slid a tablet in front of me. “This is why we’re so worried for you, Darla. It’s more than the paparazzi exposing your relationship.” She pressed something on the screen to make it come to life. “A lot more,” she finished.
But I’d already seen the headline, and suddenly it all made sense why my friends had gathered around.
I read the headline on the website in front of me. Quickly at first, scanning. Then again, slower.
I couldn’t feel my hands or feet, almost as if I were having an out-of-body experience. “What?” Finally, I found the energy to look up at my friends. “But…this…” Again, my gaze fell to the article and the accompanying photos.
“Amelia is carrying my love child!” Blaze Barron excited to be a father!
The photo under the headline was Blaze. I recognized the suit he’d worn the night before. He was leaning against his SUV outside the gate of his house, a huge grin on his face. It must have been taken only minutes after he’d said goodbye to me. After he’d kissed me. After I’d told him—
“Oh, God.” A hand flew to my face. I didn’t want to see any more. “It’s not true.” I shook my head. “It can’t be true. It’s just a tabloid. They twist things.” I looked up to Brittany, needing her to agree with me and tell me it didn’t mean anything. Instead, she pressed another button on her tablet, and a video popped up on the screen.
It was Blaze, the night before, standing outside of his vehicle. It would have been taken at the same time as the photo I’d just seen. “Blaze,” an unseen woman’s voice behind the camera said, “who was the woman you were with tonight? Is it serious? How long have you known her? Are you dating? Where is she now?”
I held my breath.
“Just a friend,” he said casually to the reporter. “It’s definitely nothing serious. And no, we’re not dating.”
His words sliced deep, but it was the way he looked into the camera and laughed that cut the deepest.
I pushed the tablet away, dropped my head on the table, and let the tears flow.
“No,” I told Sheila, again. “Absolutely not,” I said. “There is no way the baby is mine.” I scrubbed a hand over my face and through my hair, leaving it standing at dramatic angles. It had been a long night.
We’d been over and over it for hours. Even before she’d arrived in Aspen Valley. Being the excellent manager she was, Sheila had already chartered a flight to Aspen Valley, along with her own assistant, for damage control, long before Rochelle accosted me outside my home. I’d been so wrapped up in Darla that I hadn’t paid any attention to…well, anything else going on. Besides, I didn’t make it a habit to check the tabloid sites for news about my own life.
So, of course, I’d missed the photo that had been posted of Darla and me enjoying an innocent tea after yoga. Sheila hadn’t. And she knew what was no doubt to follow.
But neither of us could have predicted the baby bombshell. Fortunately, Sheila and George, her assistant who’d set up camp at the kitchen table with multiple laptops, arrived only about thirty minutes after my run-in with Rochelle. I was beyond thankful for her and her sixth sense to know when to just be there.
I’d spent every second since hearing the news replaying all the potential scenarios in my head and asking myself a million questions. By the time Sheila buzzed herself in through the gate—of course she had a code—I was beyond worked up.
“We broke up,” I told Sheila again. I’d only had a few minutes of sleep, and it was starting to take its toll. I could hardly think straight anymore. “The baby can’t be mine.” But, could it?
I’d gone over the math in my head a million times, but there was one key point that was missing from my calculations. “We need to know how far along she is,” I told Sheila. “How can we—”
“Call her.”
“No.” It was the last thing I wanted to do.
Sheila shook her head, her sharp, dark bob hardly moving a hair. “You broke up six months ago? She’d have to be pretty far along by now…”
I dropped my head, unwilling to look at my manager.
“Blaze? What aren’t you telling me?”
She knew me too well. Besides, it’s not like I could hide it. Not now.
“We reconnected in Paris a few months ago,” I said without looking up. “I was there for a screening and she was…well... It was a mistake, and we both said so. She was with what’s-his-name, and I…well, I didn’t want anything to do with her. It was a moment of weakness and alcohol and…well, I guess it doesn’t matter now.”
“It doesn’t.” Sheila was all business. She scrolled through her phone. “Okay, the screening in Paris was four months ago. Fifteen weeks, if we’re being exact.” She looked up. “And we are being exact.”
I nodded in agreement.
“So, that would mean, if it is your baby, Amelia would be not quite four months along. She’s so thin, that she’d probably have a bump. Are there any recent photos…”
I didn’t bother answering. Sheila was already scrolling through her phone and scouring websites while I sat on the couch and tried to figure out how to keep my life from completely spinning out of control.
If the baby was mine….of course I’d be there for her in any way I could. I would never deny my child anything. Ever. Except for being with his or her mother. I would not, as the reporter had implied, get back together with Amelia.
And all of this was a very big if the baby was mine.
It couldn’t be.
But even as I tried to convince myself otherwise, I knew there was a possibility, even a slight one. Dammit. I knew I shouldn’t have gone with her to have that drink after the Paris screening. It had been a moment of weakness. I’d been on the road for too long, and I was lonely. She’d smiled and flirted, and for the first time in such a long time, she reminded me of the Amelia I’d fallen for. I had no illusions of getting back together with her, but naively perhaps, I’d thought maybe we could be friends again. One thing led to another, and…well, I’d immediately regretted it.
Not that regret counted for anything. Not now.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Sheila declared. “Even if we need a paternity test. She’ll have to agree to that.”
I nodded.
“In the meantime,” Sheila shifted gears, “you’re going to need to issue a statement.”
I groaned, even though I knew that was coming.
“You need to get ahead of it, Blaze,” Sheila said seriously. “Well, maybe not ahead of it. But you know you can’t ignore it.”
“I know.”
“And your new…friend.” Sheila emphasized the word. “You’ll address that as well.”
My head shot up. “Darla?” I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to bring her into this.”
“She’s already in it, Blaze.” Sheila crossed the room and shoved a tablet in my face. “Have you not even looked at the internet this morning?”
It was a rhetorical question. She knew I didn’t read the gossip sites, with the exception of the articles she sent me from time to time.
I could only handle a few seconds of scrolling before my stomach roiled. I put the tablet face down and shook my head. “Fuck.”
“Fuck indeed.” Sheila put a hand on her hip. “What did Darla say about all of that?”
I looked up, opened my mouth, and shut it again.
“You haven’t spoken with her yet?”
Dumbly, I shook my head. “She had an early meeting this morning,” I said. “I didn’t want to disturb her and…well, I…” Truthfully, I’d been so twisted up about the bombshell Rochelle dropped on me, I hadn’t been able to think of much else. “Shit.”
“Do you think she’s seen it?”
I shook my head but followed it up with a shrug. Darla wasn’t the type to read trashy tabloids first thing in the morning. But then again, she wasn’t usually the subject of the headlines. I reached for my phone and pressed the button to call her. And if she had seen the clip that had obviously been edited where I basically brushed her off as an unimportant person…fuck.
“I’ve already arranged for a security detail to be sent to her house,” Sheila said while Darla’s phone started to ring.
“If they’re not there already, it won’t take long for the press to find her.”
“They’re already there.” George appeared at the door to the living room. “Security just arrived,” he said. “They’re keeping the reporters off her property.”
I looked up at the man and thanked him somewhat numbly as the call went to voicemail.
“She’ll need to be told not to make a statement to the press,” Sheila said. “No comment is our best bet until we know more.”
George nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
“No.” I held up my hand. “I’ll talk to her.” Again, I pressed the button to call her. This time it went to voicemail without ringing first.
“Dammit. I’m going over there.” I pushed up from the couch, but Sheila stood to block me.
“You know you can’t do that, Blaze. We need to figure this out first. You have to talk to Amelia.”
“Fuck Amelia.”
“You know you don’t mean that.”
But I did. Amelia was not the person I was worried about.
What about the baby?
Fuck.
As long as there was a chance the baby was mine, I did have to be concerned about Amelia.
Maybe Sheila was right. Maybe I should take care of that first. Maybe once I handled—
But…Darla.
My chest ached for her across town in her house—seeing all these things, reading these lies—and what if…what if she believe them? What if she—
I needed to go to her.
I needed to hold her. I needed to see her. I needed to look in her eyes and see for myself that she was okay. That we were okay.
What was she thinking? What was she feeling? After the night we’d shared. Hell, the nights we’d shared. She’d let down her walls. She’d let me in. And now… “I have to go, Sheila. I need to—”
“You need to take care of this,” she said, not unkindly. “We’ll take care of Darla.” She nodded in George’s direction.
“On my way.” He quickly disappeared from the room.
All I could do was watch, because Sheila was right. Whether I liked it or not, I needed to get to the bottom of things before I ruined everything else. If I hadn’t already.