She pulled away from the curb. Twenty minutes later her car was in the garage and she was on her laptop. She logged into the TMZ website, then swore when she saw the headlines. News of Treasure’s new lover was everywhere along with pictures of the singer with Nigel. Worse, there were clips from the interview on the AM SoCal show, showing a very shell-shocked Finola. At the time people had assumed she’d merely had an off show. In hindsight, everyone would know she’d just been told the news and was having to deal on live TV.
Humiliation and anger fought for dominance. Damn Nigel. Why had he done this to her? She hadn’t done anything to deserve it. He was a total asshole, but hers was the life that was destroyed. Nobody cared if their plastic surgeon had an affair with a singer. But she was all about home and family. Her brand was smart and fun, without any kind of edge. Her viewers would wonder, much like her stepfather had, how she was to blame.
Her phone started chiming as text messages came in, then it rang. She glanced at the screen. She didn’t know the number, so didn’t answer. She put it on silent, then watched as it buzzed as if it were being electrocuted.
She needed a plan. It was only a matter of hours until the press found out where she lived. The deed was in both her and Nigel’s names, so hardly secure. She really didn’t want to go live in a hotel. That would be too depressing and she would feel too vulnerable in such a public location. Anyone could knock on her door.
She dismissed her sisters. Ali was struggling with her own living situation and Zennie’s place was the size of a postage stamp. While she loved Rochelle, she wasn’t going to violate their relationship by imposing.
Her mother’s house was an option. Finola had kept her late father’s last name even after her mother had married Bill. She used it professionally and personally. Her mother’s last name was different, making her more difficult to trace.
She pushed Ignore on an incoming call, then dialed her mother.
“Finola, darling. How are things? I’m sorry you couldn’t come by yesterday but your sisters got so much work done. The whole upstairs is cleaned out.”
“That’s great, Mom. So I have a situation.” She quickly explained what had happened. “Can I come stay with you for a few days?”
“Of course. Your bedroom is always waiting for you, Finola. What a mess. I’m very angry with Nigel. I expected better from him. Pack what you need and come over. I’ll be waiting.”
“Thanks, Mom. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“It’s never a problem.”
Finola hurried into the bedroom. She would need to pack enough to last at least a week, she thought grimly. Her work clothes were at the studio. Still, she had to assume she could be photographed anytime she was out in public.
It took her over an hour to pull everything together. Before she left, she called Rochelle and asked her assistant to pick her up a burner phone. When they hung up, she turned off her phone and wondered briefly if it would ever be safe to turn it on again.
Chapter Fifteen
Zennie nearly canceled her blind date Sunday night. She certainly wasn’t in the mood—not when she was still sore from her ridiculous fall down the side of a mountain. But Cassie had insisted on setting it up, saying it would take Zennie’s mind off her recovery, and Zennie hadn’t come up with a reason to say no quick enough. So she dutifully applied mascara, fluffed her hair and pulled on her go-to date outfit.
At least the cropped pants were a soft fabric that didn’t irritate her still scabbing wound, she thought as she drove the short distance to the trendy bar in Toluca Lake. Much more important, so far there had been no ill effects of her tumble. No cramping, no signs of bleeding. If she was pregnant, then the tiny life inside of her seemed to have ridden out the fall with no problem.
The bar was small, with bistro tables clustered too close together. The decor leaned toward midcentury modern, with a heavy emphasis on TV shows from the 1950s. She found the old posters and memorabilia just a little over the top.
She looked around for “a guy tall enough to be a basketball player” wearing a black shirt, and spotted a brown-haired guy fitting that description. He looked up, saw her and smiled before coming to his feet and approaching.
“Zennie? I’m Jake.”
“Nice to meet you, Jake.”
They shook hands and went back to the table he’d claimed. The chairs seemed hard, although maybe that was just because she was a little battered. Still, a little padding would have been nice, she thought, shifting to get comfortable.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Jake said when they were sitting across from each other.
The table was so small and his legs so long, their knees were practically touching. Zennie fought against the need to move back to give herself more personal space.
“Cassie tells me you’re an OR nurse.”
“I am. Most of the doctors I work with are cardiac surgeons, so it’s very rewarding work. Cassie told me you’re a friend of her brother’s and that you’re a high school basketball coach.”
He grinned. “I am. Recently divorced.” His smile faded. “She left to go find herself.” He made air quotes. “I’ve moved on and am ready to start dating again.”
Oh, goody.
“What do you like to do for fun?” he asked. “Cassie said you’re pretty athletic.”
“I run and rock climb. I love surfing and I like yoga. Do you like being a coach?”
The awkward and uninspired get-to-know-you chitchat continued for several more minutes. Zennie tried to stay engaged—Jake was nice enough and attractive, but honestly, she felt nothing. Her faux date with C.J. had been a lot more fun. At least they’d had instant chemistry.
One of the servers stopped by. “What can I get you?” the pretty blonde asked. “Our Old-Fashioneds are really popular.”
“I’ll have one of those,” Jake said. “Zennie?”
Crap. Double crap. She couldn’t drink, something she should have thought of before agreeing to meet a guy in a bar. “I’ll have a club soda.”
Both Jake and the server stared at her for a second before the server shrugged and walked away.
“You don’t drink?” Jake asked. “Cassie never said anything.” His disapproval was clear.
“It’s not that I don’t drink,” she began, not sure how exactly to explain the situation. “I’m not drinking right now.”
He looked her up and down. “You’re on a diet?” His tone was doubtful.
“Not exactly.” She smiled. “Okay, I need you to promise not to say anything to Cassie because I haven’t told her yet and this is way over the TMI line for a first date, but it’s really exciting.”
Jake looked more wary than interested. “All right.”
She quickly explained about Bernie and the artificial insemination. “It’s only been a few days, but I don’t want to take the chance and drink right now.”
Jake stared at her. “You’re telling me you’re pregnant?”
His voice rose with each word until he was speaking loud enough to cause other patrons to turn and look.
“No, I’m saying I might be. I—”
He stood. “Yeah, this isn’t going to work for me. I have no idea what the hell Cassie was thinking. Jesus.”
Before Zennie could remind him Cassie didn’t know, he was gone, leaving her sitting alone. Seconds later the server returned with their drinks.
Zennie thanked her even as she realized Jake had taken off without paying for his drink. Nor had he wanted to listen to her explanation. As far as first dates went, it certainly wasn’t her best.
She took care of the bill and left. As she drove home, she replayed the disastrous few minutes, finding the situation more humorous than disappointing. Her mood lightened even more as she realized that she had the perfect excuse for not dating: she might be pregnant.
“I might be pregnant,” she whispered aloud, taking the concept on a test drive. Really, she might be and if she was, she couldn’t be dating. No one would understand—Jake was proof of that. So where did that leave her?
Alone, she thought as she pulled into her parking space. Happily and blissfully alone. She didn’t have to date anymore, not until she knew if she was having a baby and if she was, then hey, not for months and months.
She hurried inside, practically giddy with a sense of freedom. No more small talk, no more worrying about what to wear or if she’d shaved her legs that day. She could do what she wanted and the hell with a man. She could learn Italian or spend more time with her friends or figure out what she wanted from her life. She was free!
As Zennie stood in the center of her apartment, she wanted to spin or cheer or do both. What she did instead was to really look at the small space and wonder if she should start thinking about buying a condo. Just her, for her. She could get exactly what she wanted and not wait for some guy to transform her life. Because if she needed changing, by God, she was going to do it herself!
Word of Nigel’s affair seemed to be spreading more slowly than Finola would have thought. Apparently not everyone hung on TMZ’s every word. Of course not everyone had a husband sleeping with Treasure, so there was that.