When Stars Fall by Wendy Million
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wyatt
Present Day
My accusation sits between us, and rage simmers below the surface. Underneath the anger are emotions I’m not touching. Guilt. Remorse. Love. Anger is my friend, not that other shit. She should have told me when I was capable of understanding.
“Did you ever try again, Ellie? Twice in ten years? You made it impossible for me to see you or contact you. Impossible. You had my daughter, my—” I close my eyes and grit my teeth. “Daughter.” The desire to punch something, break something, beat something bloody strains my muscles. All these pent-up frustrations with nowhere to go. Images of Haven from the last few days play over and over in my head.
“I couldn’t risk her well-being,” she says, as though the decision to hide my daughter from me was simple.
“Did you ever check up on me? What if I’d sobered up eight years ago, five years ago?”
“Oh, Wyatt.” Her laugh is heavy. “I kept tabs on you. Google, YouTube, your wide-open social media accounts. I searched constantly for signs you were better.” Her jaw hardens. “Then I stopped hoping.”
For the first time, there isn’t a glimmer of the Ellie I used to know. She was never vindictive. That was my game, not hers. “You’ve spent ten years punishing me for not saying yes right away.”
“I spent ten years protecting Haven from an alcoholic and a drug addict who didn’t always make good choices. Ten years protecting Haven from endless media scrutiny. Ten years keeping our kid away from YouTube searches.”
“That’s harsh.”
“I’m being honest.”
Anger rises in me. She doesn’t get to be frustrated with me. We stare each other down. For ten years, she kept my daughter from me. Lied to everyone.
“How’d you find out?” She closes the balcony door and the curtains.
We should have done that earlier. She was right. Our arguing, drifting out the door and landing on the people below, wouldn’t be good for any of us. But the room needed airing out.
“Tommy, my manager, called me. He caught wind of something. Wondered if I came to the island to meet mydaughter.” I mock myself. “I tried to set him straight. Laughed him off. Haven’s not mine, she’s Nikki’s. Ellie wouldn’t lie to me, not about something so big. Then he said TMZ called with the details from a birth certificate. Within the hour, the proof was on their website, livestreaming on their news program for the whole world.”
“I just found out the story was breaking.” Ellie’s voice is quiet. “I turned off my phone. If I’d known it was going to come out earlier—”
“You would have enjoyed the last few hours of my ignorance?”
“Now who’s aiming low?” Her expression is rock solid when she meets mine, the softness gone. “No. I would have come to tell you myself. I never wanted you to find out this way.”
“Putting my name on the birth certificate is a stellar idea to keep the truth a secret.”
“I thought you’d come for us. I wanted her to know, and I never expected it to take ten years.”
“I fucking came, Ellie,” I burst out, throwing out an arm. “Years ago, I came. You wouldn’t see me.”
“No one told me.”
“Well, your parents were aware. Your mother met me at the gate. She took one look at me and walked all the way back down the path to the house. Didn’t say a single word to me.”
“You were still using.”
“Of course I was,” I snap. “I had no reason to quit.”
“You needed a reason after what we had together? I should have been the reason. I asked you to. There’s your reason.”
“Yeah, you did. But you didn’t tell me why, Ellie. And that would have made the difference.”
“We’re going in circles.” Impatience sparks off Ellie, directed at me. “I didn’t try to make you aware again, and I should have.” She presses her fingers into her forehead. “I don’t know anymore. But I didn’t. I can’t take it back.”
“Just go—leave.” Ten years of Haven’s life are lost to me. All the firsts. How do we recover from a lie that big? “I can’t stand the sight of you right now.”
Ellie’s eyes fill with tears. Something deep inside of me shifts on a dime, an instinct so ingrained I can’t help myself, and I step toward her. With only one exception, Ellie’s tears have always been my undoing. If only they’d undone me that time too.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” I admit.
Her bottom lip trembles. A tear falls, and she uses a finger to scoop it. Her shoulders shrug, almost imperceptibly. “Maybe I deserve it.”
“I’m really angry. I’m frustrated. I can’t—I don’t know how to handle this.”
“You think I do?”
“You’ve had years to prepare for this possibility. I didn’t even realize it existed.”
“Do you want me to go?” Tears slide down her cheeks. She brushes them away, but they don’t stop falling.
My anger is a pit, bottomless. But every time a tear trickles out, I long to reach for her, to tug her close, to ease her pain. I want to beat the shit out of whoever made her cry. Not so simple this time. I wish it was.
“I want you to go,” I say. “But I’m coming to your house later today. I’m spending time with my daughter. I don’t care if I bring the storm to your doorstep.”
“Okay.”
“You should have told me, Ellie. You should have told me.”
She closes her eyes, and more tears slide down her cheeks. “I’ll go.” She steps past me to head for the door.
My arms ache with the effort not to grab her. Seeing her so sad crushes me, but every time Haven crosses my mind, I can’t get my anger under control either. I love her, but I hate what she’s done.
Ten years.
The door clicks closed behind her. I stride over to slide the locks in place, but when I reach the door, her muffled crying comes through the thin wood. She must be leaning on the door because it rattles with each sob. My hands and forehead are pressed against the surface, seeking the connection. I want to go out, drag her into my arms, tell her I can fix everything.
I’m not sure we can be fixed.
The itch hits me in a rush, as strong as it did the first week I quit. I leave the door to grab my bag, and I tear through the nooks and crannies, searching for anything left behind. Whatever I find will be expired, but I don’t care. Anything to take the edge off. In the bathroom I stare at the empty alcohol bottles in the garbage. An impulsive prick. I want another one of those bottles so badly.
My hands are splayed on the bathroom counter, and I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My wild look peers back.
I’m not going to screw up my life. Not this time. Not any time. Not anymore. I roll my shoulders and take out my phone. My manager, Tommy, answers on the second ring.
“It’s true? What the hell is this?” His TV booms in the background. He’s a compulsive TMZ consumer. Good for his business, I suppose.
“What I’ve been missing out on for ten years.”
“This is why she avoided you for all this time? Canceled meetings, missed movie premieres, not coming to the Oscars?”
“Yes. Yeah, Haven’s the reason.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I need the number for the best family attorney on the island. Can you get me that?”
There’s a long pause on the phone. “You just found out. Isn’t it a little quick to be going for the jugular?”
“Get me the information. I don’t need a lecture.”
“Should I be calling Camila?”
“No. No. I’m fine. But Ellie’s not keeping my kid away from me anymore either. I want to understand what rights I have. And if she doesn’t play nice, I want the path to custody.”
“Wyatt.”
“Precaution. That’s all.”
“You went there to get Ellie back. Don’t blow your life to shit when you could have what you’ve wanted for years.”
“You’re right. I should have had this years ago.” There’s a knock on my door, and I purse my lips in annoyance. “I’ve got to go. It’s going to be a fucking gong show here today.”
“Do you want me to send people to help you manage the crisis?”
“No, I leave in the morning. Anna’s run off again. I’ve got to get back to Jamal.” I take a deep breath when I realize how complicated my life has gotten with one revelation. “No idea what I’m going to do.”
Tommy chuckles. “Well, the studio’d be pretty happy if you got Ellie on board with your next project. Kathleen Kirkton backed out.”
“We’re not quite there yet,” I say. “I’m having a hard time looking at her. Not sure I’m that good of an actor.”
“You are. So is she. If you want me to ask about a switch, give me a call.”
“Sure, Tommy.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “Top of my list right now. Get me that lawyer’s name.” I hang up the phone without waiting for his reply and stride to the door. Whoever is there, they’re persistent.
Calshae is framed in the view from the peephole. Stepping back, I stare at the door for a minute. She knew. I’m sure of it. I open the door, but I don’t speak. On my way to a chair, I gather my thoughts for the millionth time since TMZ made me a father. After I sink into one, I stare at her blankly.
Her steps are cautious, and she peers around the room as though she expected a hurricane. Her breath leaves in a whoosh, and her shoulders fall. “I was worried about having to clean this place up.”
My disgust at her, at Ellie, at every other fucking person who was aware of my daughter’s parentage before me rises to the surface. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Calshae freezes. “I did.”
“For how long? Does every person on this damned island know?”
Her lips quirk up, but her expression isn’t a happy one. “A lot of people do. The island is tight. We’re good secret keepers. Were. Not so much anymore. Though if whoever spilled the secret gets found out by Ellie’s parents, they’ll regret doing it. Everyone and their aunt signed an NDA when Haven was born. Her mom sealed the birth certificate.”
“I’m sure whoever leaked it is rich now and won’t care.” I drag my stress ball out of my pocket and examine it for a minute. “How do I get the minibar restocked?”
“Why?” Her eyes widen.
“I poured the bottles into the drain last night in a fit of rage. Now my rage wants to drink.” I shrug.
“Don’t see how getting drunk would be helpful.”
“Don’t see how waiting ten years to tell me I’m a father is helpful, but it happened.” Every time I remember what she did, I want to explode or take a pill to dull the edge. I don’t want to feel this way. Been a long time since I’ve felt something I couldn’t face.
“I can imagine the news is a lot to process.” Calshae perches on the chair opposite me.
“Do you think?” I ask and then stand. “I need to get out of here.”
“It’s a madhouse out there.”
“It’s, like, four in the morning. How bad can it be?” Which is a stupid question because I’ve been in enough media scrums to understand exactly how bad it could be. But we’re in Bermuda, far from most media outlets.
“It’s bad. I’ve never seen this many news outlets on the island. I have no idea how they got here. Private planes, maybe.”
“They realize I’m here?” The TMZ reporter on the screen is at the front entrance of the hotel shooting live footage. “I guess so.” I cross my arms. “When did you say you knew?”
“When Ellie was six months pregnant.”
Her words are a punch to the gut.
“It’s a well-guarded secret on the island.” Calshae’s voice is quiet. “I tried to talk her into telling you. You deserved to know. Ellie finally got tired of hearing me say what she didn’t want to hear and stopped calling me to hang out, stopped responding to the messages I sent her. I let our friendship go. Friendships don’t always blow up, sometimes they fade away.”
“How old would Haven have been?” I squint.
“Only a few months old. Years later, I wondered if I should have tried harder. Maybe our rift wasn’t about you.”
Ellie came to see me when Haven was only a few months old. The friendship split and Ellie visiting LA are probably connected. Maybe she finally took Calshae’s advice and seeing me didn’t lead to the outcome she’d wanted. So many things I don’t understand. “This is hurting my brain.” I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “The gym. I need to beat the shit out of something.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“We pass the bar to get there. I’ll come with you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You already asked about alcohol. Doesn’t seem like your brain is in a great place at the moment. Why do you suppose she didn’t tell you all those years ago?” Calshae raises an eyebrow.
“Not just all those years ago—any of the years.” I scoff. “Any of them. She had ten years to tell me.”
“Okay, so why didn’t she?”
I sigh, frustrated with her, with Ellie, with myself. “Because I was an addict who made bad choices. Took a lot of risks when I was high. Did stupid stuff a lot of the time. I understand the reasons. Doesn’t mean I’m not pissed off at the choice she made.”
“Let me tag along with you today to make sure you don’t do something impulsive and stupid to ruin this chance. ’Cause you still have one. You’ll have a chance to spend time with your daughter, and I’m sure Haven would love that too.”
I swallow a lump in my throat as Haven’s hints about her father flick through my mind like a photo album. “I want that.” My voice is a rasp.
“I know. I know. Let’s hit the gym. Beat the shit out of some stuff with your fists . . . instead of reporters with the bottom of a Jim Beam bottle.” She gets up and motions for me to do the same.
“You watched that video on YouTube?” I stand too, wearily.
“A few times. It was actually one of the funnier ones.”
“Jesus, what must my kid think of me?” There are so many things on the internet I’m not proud of, so many poor decisions that I made when I was too out of it to realize I was being filmed.
Calshae’s dark eyes search my face. She pats my back. “Ellie’s a good mom. I’m sure Haven has a high opinion of you. She’d never want your daughter to think badly of you.”
I grab some workout clothes from the suitcase, and before I disappear into the bathroom I say, “I guess we’ll see.”
I hit the bag in the gym over and over. Calshae runs on the treadmill, avoiding me. I beat the bag like I should have beaten myself ten years ago. My mind wanders between being amazed Ellie and I have a child together to being furious at myself, at her, to wanting to kill someone, anyone.
Calshae checks her phone and glances at me. She frowns, and I sigh.
“What?” I hit the bag harder and harder. The sound almost blocks out her reply.
“Text from the front desk. Evelyn is here, Ellie’s—”
“I remember who Evelyn is,” I say through gritted teeth.
Calshae yanks the emergency cord on the treadmill and stands still. “She wants to see you.”
“Sure, let’s add to the party. Let’s invite all the people who knew I was a dad before I did.” I throw out my hands and then slam another left hook into the bag. “At this point, it’d be the whole frigging island.”
“I’ll tell her to come back later.”
“No, no. Tell her she can come in and explain shit to me.” I whip off the boxing gloves and toss them to the side. Flexing my hands, I wait for Evelyn to walk in.
Normally the gym is bright with natural light. But today the windows are covered by blinds and anything else the hotel staff could find to block the paparazzi’s view. The cameras and crews have descended on the hotel. For maybe only the second or third time in my life, I don’t want the attention.
Evelyn breezes into the gym. She stands by the entrance, squinting in the dim lighting. I wouldn’t let Calshae turn on any lights, so it’s like dusk in here.
“Wyatt?” She scans the room.
Her petite stature reminds me of Ellie. Their hair is almost the same color too, so from a distance, they could be mistaken for each other. Those details soften me to Evelyn, even when I don’t want to be softened. Like today—I don’t want any softness today. “Evelyn,” I say. “Or should I call you Grandma?”
“I was a grandmother even when you believed Haven was Nikki’s.”
“I should go.” Calshae steps off the treadmill and tucks her phone in her pocket. “I’ll come check on you in a bit.”
“Like I said, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“How many times have you considered using?” Evelyn asks. “Searched any bags? The nooks and crannies? Maybe a pill was left behind? Considered calling any old friends?”
So fucking smug. Like she has any idea how I feel. Right now, I hate her. I clench my hands and release them, and don’t answer.
“I’ll come find you when I leave,” Evelyn says to Calshae, who is standing at the door before she ducks out. The door clicks closed.
“You have to keep it together,” Evelyn says quietly, clasping her hands in front of her.
“I’m aware.” I push the words out, my anger barely in check. “Why do you suppose I’m here in the gym instead of at the bar?”
“A whiff of anything and I’ll be counseling Ellie to stay away.”
“Yeah, well, you won’t have much of a leg to stand on when I tell her that you’re the reason I’m here in the first place.”
“I’m still Ellie’s mother.” Evelyn’s expression tightens.
“And I’m the father of her child. That puts us at an impasse.”
“You’re angry. But having Tommy calling family attorneys on the island, asking questions about custody, visitation? Is that how you want this to go between you and my daughter?”
My hands are laced behind my head, and I release them. Pisses me off that she already knows about that. “My rights, since they’ve been denied to me for the last nine years, are important.”
“Ellie isn’t going to stop you from seeing Haven.”
“I want to be sure she can’t.” I’m trying to work out why she agreed to give me Ellie’s address. She knew what Ellie was hiding. “What did you expect would happen?”
She crosses to the bench that houses weights on one end. Slowly, she lowers herself to sit on the edge. “I hoped you’d come here clean and sober. Ellie would realize what I have known for years, and the three of you could work at being a family. Instead, you created this incredible public spectacle.” She tosses her hand toward the windows for emphasis. “You found out in exactly the wrong way.”
When I remember my conversation with Tommy, seeing the birth certificate on TMZ, I clench and unclench my hands. “How was I supposed to guess Ellie had a real reason for staying away from me?”
“I should have made the terms of our agreement a little firmer.”
“Six months of meetups, breathalyzers, and random drug testing on my movie set weren’t enough?”
“You agreed to that.”
“And thank goodness I did. Right? Or else I still wouldn’t know I had a daughter.”
“Haven would have sought you out at some point. Ellie never lied to her about you.”
“Small comfort, Evelyn. I’ve missed nine years. When I realize everything I haven’t been here for—what the hell am I supposed to do? How do we overcome that?”
“You need to take a hard look at yourself. Ellie came to see you when Haven was only a few months old.”
“I’m aware of that, now.”
She watches me for a few minutes as I pace around the gym. The memory, if one ever existed, of Ellie coming to see me is gone. I can’t locate it or verify its existence. They can tell me it happened, but it doesn’t feel as though it did. When I glance in Evelyn’s direction, there’s a crease in her brow.
“What would you have done if she’d told you she was pregnant?”
“That’s a shitty question. I can’t answer that. How can I answer that?”
“I suspect you can, you just don’t enjoy the response springing to mind.”
Fury tinges the sides of my vision, even though she’s right. The truth, the horrible truth, is that I would have told Ellie we weren’t ready to be parents. If Ellie had stayed, I’m not sure there’d be a Haven. I would have talked her out of keeping the baby. Guilt wells in my throat. Haven wouldn’t exist.
“She understood you better than anyone. When she came to us, sobbing her heart out, she realized she had to make a choice between keeping her baby or keeping you.” She gives me a hard look. “She loves Haven. Having a child is like watching your heart running around outside your body—how do you protect it? How do you keep it safe? You’ll get to experience that. The most beautiful and terrifying feeling.”
Those feelings should have been mine a long time ago. “You’re just making me angrier.”
“What I’m trying to say is when Haven was more of an idea than a person, Ellie struggled. She did. She loved you so much. Her devotion to you scared me as a parent, to see my child attached to someone who could destroy her.”
“I didn’t destroy her.” My voice is tight. I’m sure of that, at least. I protected Ellie.
“After Isaac died, you were out of control. A loose cannon. Consumed by fame, drugs, drinking—anything bad for you was fair game. You were at your worst when Ellie found out she was pregnant.” Something in her expression shifts and she gives me a rueful smile. “I was glad when she chose to keep Haven. I was worried you were going to get my daughter killed.”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for Ellie back then.”
Something on my face must tell Evelyn she doesn’t need to correct me because she checks her watch. Then she stands up and crosses toward the door. “Remember that feeling you just had, that realization you let her down, when you talk to those lawyers. She needs you to make the right choice this time.” Evelyn opens the door and disappears without another word.
Once in a while, I see where Ellie gets her dramatic flair.
From the ground, I scoop up my boxing gloves and pound on the bag again, trying to block out Evelyn’s words. I don’t want to feel sorry for Ellie. I don’t want to be ashamed that she came to talk to me and I don’t remember it. I want to be angry.
“Wyatt?” Calshae calls from the doorway.
“Go away.” I hit the bag with more force. “I don’t need another person on Ellie’s side.”
Calshae sighs, her hip cocked, and one hand braced on her waist. She’s changed into some sort of summery island dress. The vibrant colors in it are in stark contrast to her dark skin. “You’re insufferable.”
“No, I’m not.” I screw my face up in annoyance.
“Security’s moving the reporters. It’s still a bit early, but I can get you to Ellie’s in about half an hour if you want.”
The clock on the wall has just passed nine in the morning. This day is both speeding by and dragging along.
“Come on. Go shower. I’ll get us breakfast to go. The reporters will be gone and then I’ll take you over to Ellie’s place.”
I yank off the gloves and squint at her. There’s still so much anger coursing through me, I’m not sure how I can be around Ellie without letting my rage show.
“You don’t want to hear this, but she was really unhappy years ago—I think she’s been unhappy for a long time. If Ellie has a chance to be happy, I want that.” Calshae smiles again. “Besides, I kinda like your grumpy ass. Seeing you happy might be nice too.”
I throw a glove at her, and she ducks.
“See? Grumpy.”
Despite my sour mood, I chuckle and shake my head. “A half hour? Also, what’s with the women on this island not knowing how to cook?”
“If a man can cook, he shouldn’t complain. It makes him look more attractive to those of us that can’t.”
Ellie used to get so turned on every time I cooked. Never complained about that outcome. “Can you make sure no one cleans my room?” She gives me a quizzical look. “When the press swarm, people will take and sell anything that’s been in the room as a trophy.”
“Yeah. Of course,” she says. “I’ll make sure no one goes in.”
Seeing Haven again is going to be weird. I can’t quite process that she’s known the truth for years, and I’ve only just found out. My chest tightens at the reality of becoming an instant parent. I don’t have a fucking clue how to be a father, and I’ve got no idea where to start when I see her again.
My daughter.
