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Chapter Three
Phoebe
The man before me stood at his breaking point.
The light beard that always dusted his cheeks and chin had grown in his short absence. It was noticeably heavier, as if he hadn’t bothered shaving in days. His labored breathing and glassy eyes revealed a severe lack of sleep. Chaotic hair leaned to the side as he rested his forehead in the palms of his hands.
I managed two raspy words. “I’m sorry.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say?”
“No, I—”
“You what, Phoebe? You thought it wasn’t a priority to inform me you almost gave birth in our house?”
“I didn’t almost…”
He stepped into the room, his palm still connected to the doorframe. “Or maybe you thought the minute Faith told me you were in a hospital I wouldn’t have to sit down before my knees gave out?”
“Julian, you don’t…”
Two more steps inside, and he stood at the foot of my bed, his body heaving with adrenaline. “Or didn’t you think the first thing that entered my mind was that I’d missed the birth of our kid? And maybe the next thought was if I lost you or the baby, they might as well kill me too? Because I’m nothing without you. Nothing, Phoebe.”
One look into his damp eyes severed my resolve. I struggled to rein in my composure. Hearing rustling, I knew without looking he sat beside me.
“Phoebe, how could you not call me? How…” He sniffed, his fingers lightly brushing through the hair matted to my cheek. The rough pad of his thumb caressed along my jawline. “How could you think it wouldn’t hurt to hear it from someone else?”
The rhythmic rubbing of his hand against my face erased all remnants of defiance. My body leaned into him as his other hand gently roamed over my stomach. The roundness filled his hand as if it were molded to his skin. But it was his voice that shattered everything.
“Don’t shut me out. Not when I need you the most.”
“Why do you care what I have to say now? You haven’t listened to me in weeks.” I stared at him, revisiting the argument we’d had relentlessly.
He cradled my face into his hands, the rough guitarist calluses on his fingers comforting my skin. “Come on, baby. You have to admit you’ve been a little paranoid.”
Before leaving New York, I swore I saw my father everywhere. At the park, at the recording studio, in restaurants…the list was endless. When we arrived in Los Angeles, the feeling of being watched got worse. Julian finally had enough and refused to hear anymore. It’d become a major source of contention in our relationship. Especially leading up to his leaving for the publicity tour. It was one of the reasons I didn’t call him. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Faith that.
The elephant in the room now loomed over me.
Do I tell him about the broadcast?
One look in his pleading eyes, and I knew I couldn’t lie. “The movers dropped off the last of the boxes from Jersey, and I happened to catch the end of a news broadcast.”
“It’s just like New York, baby,” he interrupted. “You’ve got to tune it out, especially with all the gangs—”
“They found a girl dumped in Griffith Park yesterday morning, Julian.” When he didn’t react to my satisfaction, I knew the final piece of information would force it. “She had seven stab wounds to her stomach.” His entire body stiffened. “Still think I’m crazy?”
His eyes dropped as his breathing betrayed his conflicting emotions. I could see belief in his eyes, yet his silence refused to give validation to what we both knew to be true.
My father is in Los Angeles.
“Phoebe, are you sure it was seven? Did the anchor specifically say seven? People are stabbed all the time in Hollywood. This isn’t North Carolina.”
I stared at him incredulously. “Are you trying to convince yourself, or do you think I’m that stupid?” I rubbed my eyes and sighed. “I’m in a new city with no friends. I count on you to believe in me and make me feel safe. You’ve made me feel more alone than I’ve felt in a long time.” I swallowed the growing mass of fear in my throat. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you, and it scares me.”
“Phoebe…”
“Let me finish,” I pleaded. “I gave up my life for you, but you won’t let me into yours. I don’t ask for much, Julian. I know your career is demanding, and I respect that. All I ask is that you make me an equal partner in this…this…whatever this is we have.”
