When Stars Fall by Wendy Million
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ellie
Present Day
I curl up in my bed, and I wish Haven was home. Nights like these, when I can’t sleep, I crawl into bed with her. Something about the steady rhythm of her breathing always lulls me to sleep. Nothing is working tonight.
Frustrated, I climb out of bed and pad to the kitchen for a drink of water. My normal phone is charged on the counter, and I turn it on. There’s nothing else to do this late at night, so I might as well see what’s going on in the world.
My mind flicks to my ex-boyfriend’s earlier text on my private phone. I didn’t even look at his message before I turned it off. We haven’t spoken in months. Whatever he has to say can wait for another day. Not right now.
Out of habit, I’ve navigated to Wyatt’s Twitter feed. An hour ago, he tweeted: Listening to Alicia Keys’ “If I Ain’t Got You” on repeat. Thinking, wishing, wondering. Wyatt’s alone in his hotel room, just as lost as me.
I was so close to telling him earlier. So close. He’s not using anymore. I’m almost positive. Anna, though. She and her son are complications I didn’t see coming. If she’s worse than she used to be, putting Haven in that household is wrong. Irresponsible. Her behavior is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid for the last nine years. Haven could have her father’s addictive personality. Living with, being around someone who is an active user is extremely risky.
Isaac spiraled and hit bottom, never to emerge again. Wyatt spent years telling me his problem wasn’t a problem at all. Anna’s decline makes her one more person who’s lost themselves to drugs. If Haven goes down their path, I’ll scrutinize this moment and my wrong decision forever. My choice might be the difference between a healthy life for her or picking up the pieces if she becomes an addict. Once Wyatt knows she’s his, there’s no backtracking.
My brain isn’t going to quiet.I pick up my phone and dial Nikki’s number. When Nikki answers, I don’t waste any time. She sounds wide awake anyway. “Can I come over?”
“Are you listening to Alicia Keys on repeat too?”
“I’m not the only one Twitter-stalking Wyatt?” My voice is light, but my insides are heavy. I dig my nail under a piece of paint on the counter. One of Haven’s art projects left a little behind. Life is rarely neat and tidy.
“You didn’t tell him?”
“He told me some things, and now the situation seems more complicated. Maybe dangerous.”
Once she agrees to let me crash at hers, I throw a change of clothes into a bag and hustle out of the house to my car. When I arrive at Nikki’s, the door is unlocked.
I drop my bag in the entryway, round the couch, and collapse next to her. It’s three in the morning, but Nikki looks like she never went to bed.
“Did Matt get ahold of you?” Nikki scrolls through Wyatt’s Twitter feed.
Pictures, articles, and other reminders of the past fly by. He certainly stirred up a shitstorm with that interview. He’s also retweeting the nonsense. Stoking the fire. And he says he’d have no problem quitting.
“Earth to Ellie.” Nikki waves her hand in front of my face.
“What?” I blink at her.
“Matt. He called me to get in touch with you. He said you weren’t answering your phone. I tried to call you. No answer.”
My phone is off because Wyatt and I were talking earlier, and I didn’t want any distractions. I rummage around in my purse until I find my second phone and wait for the home screen to load. At the flood of notifications, my heart starts to race. I have a lot of voice mails. Holding up a finger to Nikki, I take a seat at her kitchen table so I can concentrate.
“Ellie—it’s Matt. I had a phone call from one of those shitty tabloids snooping into your life. I think, well . . . I think Wyatt has created a problem. Call me.”
I delete the message. Tabloids cold call people acquainted with me. They offer a lot of money to entice someone to say something, anything they can spin into a story. Of course they’re going to contact Matt and anyone else who might talk now that Wyatt has made a spectacle of my life. The next message starts to play.
“Ellie—it’s Calshae. There are reporters at the hotel. I—I . . . things are blowing up.” There’s a long pause. “The one at the concierge desk asked about Haven. We’re locking things down here, but I thought you’d want to know.”
My heart booms in my chest. Sweat breaks out under my armpits. Nikki is staring at me, but I can’t look at her. Why did I turn off my phone? How do I stop this? I delete her message and start the next one, pressing a hand over my heart. I’m about to have a heart attack at thirty-four.
“Ellie—it’s Vincent. I’m fielding calls left and right about Wyatt, about Haven, about you. There are fires, and I’m putting them out. We’re bleeding money. I’ve reminded people about NDAs. But I’ve got to warn you, I’m not sure I can contain the truth. I’m trying. One of the reporters from TMZ said they had a birth certificate naming Wyatt as the father. Please call me back and tell me you weren’t that dumb nine years ago. Call me. Anytime. Whenever you get this, okay?” No point in deleting his message. The word dumb bangs around my skull. Yes, Vincent, I was that dumb. But my mother made sure her birth certificate was sealed. Very few people could have leaked this. I close my eyes and drop my head onto the table.
Nikki gets up and comes over to give my back a rub. “What’s up?” she asks softly.
“I’m screwed. I’m so, so screwed. Matt tried to contact me because reporters called him. Reporters were at Wyatt’s hotel tonight. Calshae tried to get in touch with me. Vincent, my manager, left a message. TMZ has Haven’s birth certificate.”
That last sentence reverberates in my mind. The worst outcome.
“Oh, shit,” Nikki breathes. “Mom sealed that.”
“Unsealed now.” Bile rises into my throat. “Why did I put Wyatt’s name on it? Why? How could I be so stupid?”
“Because you didn’t want to hide the truth from Haven.” Nikki’s expression is pained.
“But I haven’t told him yet. If this breaks, he’ll—what will he do?”
My phone pings. I check the incoming message, and I suck in a sharp breath.
“What?” Nikki peers over my shoulder.
“Wyatt.” The blood leaves my head in a rush. Black spots appear at the edges of my vision. I’m going to faint. A heart attack might not be so bad.
“What’s it say?”
“Call me, now.” I stare at Nikki. My body is weightless, but the hot and cold flashes won’t stop coming.
“If your people were calling you . . .”
“Someone might have called him or one of his reps for comment. That’s where you’re going, right?” I can’t sit here. I rise, but I’m dizzy. The room swirls, and I grip the back of the kitchen chair.
“You can’t tell him via text message. And you can’t tell him over the phone. If the first question he’s going to ask is if it’s true, you need to be there.”
“He’s going to be so angry with me.”
“Maybe. Maybe. He might be reasonable. You said he’s different, right?”
“Yeah. And I didn’t tell him.”
“Why didn’t you tell him tonight?”
“I was going to. I was so close. Then his addiction person called and said Anna had disappeared.”
“His sister?”
“Yeah. His sister and her son live with Wyatt. I had no idea. I think—well, you know how I feel about Anna. Wyatt was hiding her from me. She’s still an addict, unstable, sometimes violent. I—I can’t put Haven in that environment. I left him because I didn’t want her in that environment.”
“Wyatt won’t turn his back on his sister and her son.”
“I can’t blame him for that.”
My phone pings again. Another text from Wyatt. He knows. The phone rings, shrill in the silence of the room. It’s him.
“Go,” Nikki says. “Just go. See him in person.”
“Don’t take her to school today, okay? It’ll be a circus.”
“We’ll stay around the house. Do you want us to go to yours instead? We can wake her and take her now.”
I shake my head, and I grab my bag off the floor. At the moment, I have no idea where I’ll be. Protecting Haven from the fallout is the most important aspect of all this.
“Stay here,” I say. “They’ll have to work to find your house. Go to Mom and Dad’s if you have to, okay? At least the gates and security there will keep them away, and I can handle the chaos at mine.” I open the front door. “If it gets intense or scary, call me. I’ll have Freddie or Jerome come here—both, if needed.”
Nikki nods, and worry overflows between us.
I get to the hotel in record time, but as I drive up to the spacious entrance, I realize I’ve dropped the ball in a big way. There are reporters everywhere. I slip into a side lot and drive around to the rear of the building. No one seems to be hovering around here yet. Reluctantly, I dial Calshae’s number. She answers on the fourth ring. “Sorry to wake you,” I say. “I’m at the back of the hotel. The front is flooded with reporters.”
“Oh, Ellie,” she breathes. “I’m so sorry. You haven’t told him yet? He didn’t know?”
“No, he didn’t.” My voice is thick with tears, and I close my eyes. When I found out I was pregnant, Calshae was adamant I tell Wyatt. Like my sister, she didn’t understand all the ins and outs of the life Wyatt and I led in LA. She thought love would be enough for Wyatt to overcome his addictions. I’m not sure what she thinks now or whether anything’s changed in the years that have passed in between. We stopped talking.
She whistles. “We disagreed about whether he should know, but I never wanted the truth to come out like this. Never. Never said a word this week.”
“I know. The time he spent with you didn’t bother me. I—I should have told him already, probably.” She’s moving around, doing something on her end. The back door swings open and she’s standing at the entrance, peering out into the darkness, looking for me. “I see you,” I say. In a rush, I exit my vehicle and squeeze into the hallway. “Didn’t realize you’d be here.”
“When the reporters started showing up late tonight, I came to help field questions. Then I stayed. I was worried. Just a bad feeling, and I tried to call you, but I couldn’t get you. I was sure something was coming. Hoped it wasn’t this, though.”
“What room is Wyatt in?” My legs wobble, and I brace a hand against the wall.
“Top floor. Number 56. Are you going to be okay? Should I have security on standby? I’ve heard he sometimes has a temper.”
“You might need a cleanup crew, but I doubt it,” I say with more confidence than I have. Wyatt’s reaction is an unknown. “He’d never hurt me. Never. No matter how mad he is.” She scans my face, but I don’t waver. “Stairs?” I glance down the hall.
Calshae points to the left. “Good luck.”
I hurry up the stairs. My choice is gone, just like my mother had warned. I have to talk about Haven. Tomorrow, the truth will be all over the news. Hell, Haven’s parentage might already be on TMZ’s newsfeed. If that’s how Wyatt found out, I’m in even more trouble. At the door to his room, I wipe my hands on my shorts and take a deep breath. My heart beats erratically. With one hand pressed to my chest to contain it, I knock on the door.
Almost immediately, the door flies open. Wyatt’s expression is beaten, bewildered. He searches my face. I can’t look away, even though he’ll recognize what I haven’t said in words.
“So it’s true.” He rocks back as though I’ve hit him. “Haven’s mine?” His voice cracks.
“Yes,” I whisper and close my eyes. “Yes.”
He leaves the door ajar and heads into the room. The balcony doors that face the ocean are open. The reporters don’t appear to be on this side of the hotel. But mere eyesight can be deceptive. Powerful camera lenses can get impossible shots.
“Can you shut the curtains or the door?” There’s only a bedside lamp on. The TV is switched to TMZ. I swallow. Shit. TMZ.
“Why? Why does it even matter? The whole fucking world knows I’m Haven’s father. TMZ knew before me. Christ, I’ve been sitting here thinking about the things people have said over the last few days, and I’m a complete idiot. She looks so much like your mother, Ellie, so much. But you know what’s not you? Her eyes. That blue comes from my family, doesn’t it? Now that I see it, I don’t understand how I didn’t see the truth before.”
I’m silent, clutching my middle, watching him pace around the room. There’s nothing I can possibly say. Sorry isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.
“Does Haven know? She does, doesn’t she? Some of the things she said to me . . .” He chuckles, humorless, and shakes his head. “Even she knew. A nine-year-old.” His expression is filled with disgust. He’s never leveled that in my direction before. “Were you going to tell me?” He stops pacing to stare at me.
I can’t make eye contact. The expression I glimpsed on his face is enough. He hates me. But I’ve never thought of myself as a coward, and I’m not going to start tonight—one of the most important moments in my life.
“While you were here? I’m not sure.” I flinch at the anger in his eyes. “I was going to tonight until you mentioned your drug-addicted, violent sister lives with you.”
He winces. “That’s a low blow, Ellie. I’m not the one who lied to you for ten years.”
“I told you back then.”
“When?” He puts his hands on his hips. The word is an accusation.
I scoff. “Why do you think I flew home out of the blue ten years ago? Why do you think I came back to you with the information on rehab? Why do you think I pushed so damn hard? Wyatt, why do you think I left?”
“But you didn’t tell me. You didn’t.” Wyatt steps toward me. “When I asked you where the rehab shit was coming from, you never said anything about being pregnant. Not one word about a baby.”
“Would it have mattered?” My voice is quiet, barely louder than a whisper. This question has haunted me. Before he talked about Jamal, I was confident of the answer. Ten years ago, the last thing Wyatt wanted was a kid. He was too consumed by his grief and guilt over Isaac.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course my daughter would have mattered to me.”
“If I’d told you, you can tell me with one hundred percent certainty you’d have gone to rehab? You would have totally changed your lifestyle—given up the publicity, created stability, been completely sober? You can say that?” If he’s going to make me the devil, I’m going to earn that title.
“How can I answer that?” He runs both hands through his hair in frustration. “You didn’t give me a choice.”
“You’re right. I asked the question I thought needed answering, and you said no. I asked you to get sober. You chose the drugs. Maybe you didn’t completely understand the choice, but if you were going to continue to live that life, I didn’t want our child anywhere near it.” I take in his haggard appearance. “How can you say you’d want a kid around that lifestyle? You grew up with that. You hated how your parents raised you and Anna.”
“Which is why I would never do it. Anna showed up with a kid who wasn’t even mine, and I got my shit together.”
I debate how honest to be with him. We’ve gotten this far. No point in holding back. “I did tell you. I came back to our house three months after Haven was born.”
Wyatt frowns, and he searches my face. He probably thinks I’m lying. “What?”
“I thought you were living with Katrina, but when I showed up, Blanca answered the door. She let me in. I went to the bedroom and tried to talk to you. You woke up, but you couldn’t carry on a coherent conversation. I left.” The breeze from the open window hits me. I shiver. “But I went to tell you. I wanted you to know.”
Emotions flicker across his face in rapid succession. None of them are there long enough to identify. “You told me?”
“You were really high, Wyatt.” I purse my lips, and more tears flood my eyes.
“And that was it. I got two chances to know my daughter, to see her grow up.” His voice is soft, but there’s steel underneath.
He doesn’t believe I did enough. Maybe I didn’t. But I couldn’t worry about his feelings anymore once I saw how bad he was; I had to protect her. Back then, he didn’t want to save himself, had no interest in getting better. He loved me so much, and he wouldn’t get help for me. I couldn’t take the chance that he wouldn’t be sober for our daughter either. Faced with him now, and the weight of my decision, my guilt rests heavy on my shoulders. Maybe I should have done more. I don’t even know anymore. But I didn’t, and here we are.
