Page 117 of Songs for Libby

His face was horribly unreadable. “His security guys were not given permission to share that information with me.”

I blinked hard. Once. Twice. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t understand it either, Libby.” It was the first time he’d called me Libby.

“So he just…what? Left the scene of the accident after I was carted off in an ambulance?!” I screeched the last word. Joanie cried. I forced a deep breath through my nose.

“No, he…” I saw him debating with himself in his head before he crossed to me, pulling out his phone as he came, tapping and swiping before turning it to face me.

It was a video of Sean, out in front of the hospital, screaming at a crowd of photographers.

“I hope you leeches enjoyed getting your last pictures, because I’m done!” He sliced his hand viciously through the air. “I can put up with you chasing me all over town, but when you endanger her, when you endanger her baby, that’s it. I won’t do it. That woman has been through enough. And you’d better believe I’ll choose her over my career every time. So congratulations,” he mocked. “You’ve just sent me into retirement.” He turned his back on them and started toward the hospital doors.

“You’re contractually obligated to keep performing, Sean!” someone goaded from the back of the crowd.

Sean just turned around for a second, gave a shrug, and then walked through the hospital doors.

Nick turned the phone back toward himself and swiped some more.

I swallowed a couple times, feelings of abandonment burrowing under my skin. “So,” I started, “if he’s so devoted to me, then why isn’t he here?”

“Because of this,” he answered and turned the phone to me again, loaded with another video.

Sean was leaving the hospital with a woman in a wide-brimmed hat and huge sunglasses, the bottom half of her face hidden by what looked like a baby as she clutched the bundle to her chest.

I scrunched my nose and squinted at the footage. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So then where did he go after that?”

He pocketed the phone. “Like I said, his guys wouldn’t tell me anything else. He used that decoy woman to lead the media away from you, which did work, by the way. But after that”—he lifted his empty hands—“I’ve received no further information. And I did ask for more.”

“Where’s my phone? Is it here?”

Nick pulled it from the inside pocket of his jacket.

I looked through my notifications, expecting a call or a text. Maybe even a whole string of texts.

There was nothing from Sean. Why was there nothing from Sean? I blinked, confused, as I looked up at Nick. “So, is he going to pick me up to take me home?”

“No ma’am; he made sure I would be here to get you back to the house.”

My stomach dropped. Sean had arranged for me to get home. Without him. Without telling me where he was going to be. Without texting me. Without calling.

I called Sean’s phone. It rang and kept ringing. He didn’t answer. I called again. He didn’t answer. I texted and waited for a response.

I pinned my gaze on my bodyguard. “Why isn’t he answering, Nick?”

“I don’t know, ma’am.”

So much hurt. So much anger. I picked Joanie up, holding her securely against my chest, feeling her presence, focusing on it so that I could calm down.

Nick’s voice was quiet when he spoke again. “Are you ready for me to take you home?”

“Yes, please,” I whispered, keeping an iron grip on my crazy, which desperately wanted to come out.

He gathered my things and then let the nurse know we were ready to go. Nick handed me a baseball cap and big sunglasses. I glared at them even as I put them on. Then I sat in the wheelchair provided by the nurse with Joanie tucked in my arms and did my best to be unobtrusive and invisible as they wheeled me out.