Page 97 of Songs for Libby

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Nick was now my constant shadow. Though to be fair, I was usually the only one who noticed him. He was adept at blending in, so I did my best to forget he was there.

I was on my lunch break, eating in my office and scrolling through social media when there was a knock on my open door.

I looked up and smiled when I saw Gemma standing there. “Hey,” I said around a bite. “Come in. Do you need something?”

She tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Yeah.” She came in, closing the door behind her, and perched in the chair across from my desk, pushing her hands down the thighs of her jeans like she was drying them off. “Um. I needed to talk to you about something.”

“Okay…” Her nervousness was making me nervous.

“So.” She stared at her lap. “Um.”

This can’t be good.

“It was me,” she announced.

I was perplexed. “What was you?”

Her eyes were wet when she looked up at me. “The photo. I’m—“ She swallowed hard. “I’m the one who sold the photo.” Her voice was a bare whisper by the end of the sentence.

I was…floored. I sat there and blinked.

“I stopped by your house because I had some flowers for you, but you weren’t home, so I decided to just wait in case you’d just run out or maybe gone for a walk, since you’ve mentioned how much you like walking.” Her voice was getting faster and more unsteady as she continued. “And then your car pulled up, but you just sat there and I thought maybe you were busy talking on the phone or something, so I waited in my car. And then a guy walked out of your house, and I was so surprised that I thought maybe it was—I don’t know—a burglar or something. But then I recognized him and I got my phone out, because Sean freaking Amity had just walked out of your house. And then he came and opened your door. And he was so sweet, and when he helped you out, I took a few photos because I thought you might want them or something. And then you two went inside, and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t come to your door because I didn’t want to intrude. And you’d never mentioned knowing him or meeting him, so I decided I wasn’t going to do anything with the photos. I wasn’t.”

“But you did,” I finally said as the hurt and betrayal latched on to my heart and squeezed.

“I didn’t plan to. I swear I didn’t. But then a couple weeks later, they were offering money to know where he was.”

“So it was about the money?” I asked, my eyes narrowed.

“Yes.”

I got up and paced behind my desk. There wasn’t much space, so I was really just shifting my weight from one foot to the other, my back to her.

“I really needed that money, Libby.” Gemma’s voice sounded small and pitiful.

I turned on her. “Was someone dying?” That was the only thing I could think of that might excuse what she’d done.

“No.”

“THEN WHY?” I yelled. “I thought we were friends!”

“My ex was fighting for custody of Mariah.” A tear streaked down her face.

Mariah was her eight-year-old daughter. A small portion of my indignation fled.

“He has a lot more money than me. He can afford better lawyers.”

It was extraordinarily hard to be angry at someone for fighting for their child. My baby girl chose that moment to push her little foot against the right side of my belly, and I had to rub at the spot to keep it from hurting.

“Gemma,” I said, exasperated, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m so sorry, Libby. I didn’t think they’d be able to identify you. I didn’t tell them where you lived. I didn’t even tell them your name. I didn’t know you had known him in high school. I had no idea there was already an article about you two.” She was crying in earnest now.

I breathed deep through my nose. “Is everything going to be okay with Mariah?”

She nodded.