Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(86)

I rapped on the driver’s window. It slid down.

“Pull over here, would you?”

“Sure thing.”

“What’s happening, Daddy?”

I looked at Cara when I spoke. “Miss Cara and I have to make a pit stop.”

Nicole went up like a shot, peering out the window. “Can we get a hot dog?”

“There’s not a rest stop in sight, Brad,” Mom said.

“Not that kind of pit stop.”

Gravel crunched under the tires, and the limo came to a stop. A car blew by so fast the limo jolted. I didn’t wait for the driver to open the door. I yanked the handle and went to the side of the heat-baked road. Cara didn’t follow. I leaned into the car. Her phone was still sandwiched between her hands, which were folded between her legs as if she wanted to protect her device or shield herself from the information on it.

“You coming?” I said. “Or do I have to carry you?”

In the sunlight her eyes were bluer. Less like the deep ocean and more like the color of running sea water.

“Maybe we should discuss this in front of Nicole?” I suggested.

I stepped out of the way and finally, she followed.

“Give us a minute,” I said to my mother, whose look of disapproval was cut off when I closed the door.

I decided, as I scanned for Cara and found her leaning on the back of the limo with her arms crossed, that I wasn’t going to pretend this could be about anything else. It couldn’t be, and if it was, I was just going to bring it up anyway.

I stood across from Cara and crossed my arms so we were a matched set.

“Can you hear me?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She handed me her phone. I immediately recognized the documents I’d signed, refusing my parental rights, and Paula’s name at the top of the screen. I handed it back. “I don’t want to talk about it yet. I’m confused.”

Yeah. I wasn’t confused. I was real clear. I was going to man up, and she was going to deal with my apology.

“She was better off without me.”

Which wasn’t exactly what I was planning to say, but that was what came out. The truth.

“How convenient, golden boy.” She finally looked at me. The wind blew the hair off her face, and it trailed behind her like a black flag. The opposite of surrender. “Everything just goes your way.”

How was I supposed to answer that? I couldn’t even tell if she was insulting me or giving me a shot in the arm for being lucky.

“I wonder, sometimes.” She moved a rock with the tip of her shoe. “Am I just the last thing that you fell into? Get a daughter and find her a mother right after? Perfect. Home run. Brad Sinclair steps in shit again. Rejects his kid. No consequences. Parties like a teenager for years. No consequences. Suddenly a single dad? Easy. Sinclair doesn’t miss a beat. Lies about knowing he had a daughter? What’s going to be the consequence?”

I bristled from her summary of my life. She knew damn well it wasn’t that easy.

“You don’t have to worry about my consequences. You’re not God.”

Her head shot up as if pulled up by shock. She blazed. Even in the Arkansas sun, her anger was the hottest thing for miles.

“No. I’m not. God forgives. I can only stand so much lying. I’m not a saint. I’m a human and so flawed . . .” She looked away for a second. Trying to gather her emotions. I put a hand to her face, and she slapped it away. “I’ve copped to every mistake I ever made, and you just make a show of it. You rejected her. You left her.”

“I was living in a studio in Silver Lake.”

“For how long? A year?”

I was on a trajectory at that point. One low-paying, SAG-waivered critical darling in the can. Shooting another with a major director, and a summer tentpole scheduled. Significant money hadn’t started rolling in and wouldn’t for another year. But my path was lit like a runway.

“I didn’t even remember signing it. I was handed a paper in the middle of a flight.”

“Anything else on the list of excuses?”

And you know what? Fuck her. She was betraying me, right there. Stabbing me in the back with my own decisions.

“You know what, lady? I’m trying my best. I took this on. I didn’t try and get out of it. I’ve had to change my life all around for Nicole, and I’m glad I did. But I don’t need the self-righteous judgment from you. I don’t need to look over my shoulder every second because you might not approve. Here’s the deal. I’m in the paper all the time. I’m a dude. I do dude things. Deal with it. And I didn’t tell anyone I can barely read. That would have ended me before I started. And I’m not admitting it now. I’m not taking that risk. Deal with it. And the last thing you can deal with is that I have a past just like you and I made decisions in the past you’re not gonna like.”

Well, that felt good. Real good. Laid it out right there. I didn’t know what I expected from her after that, but I held on to that good got-shit-off-my-chest feeling because the goodness of it was about to disappear. Nothing I said was deniable. I knew I was right on paper. But life wasn’t on paper. Life was on the side of the road in Arkansas, on the way to Thailand with my daughter and a woman I needed.

“I’m disappointed,” she said, the wind blowing hair over her face. “I’m disappointed in myself for trusting you. I thought you were honest. I don’t even know who you are.”