All I could do was swallow. And try to breathe normally. He hadn’t freaked out. He’d stayed the course and been there for me, even when I wasn’t capable of comprehending it.
“We’ve spent a lot of time with him over the past three weeks.” Mom kissed me on the head. “He’s a very special man.”
I’d always known that. While it was comforting to know that my mom and dad accepted him even after what happened, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t believe in us anymore. “How do you know when he’ll be here?”
“Ty just texted me.” Mom held up her phone. “He’s on his way. You have about ten minutes.”
Chapter 34
TYSON
After Zoey returned to Seattle safely, Katherine and I got to work. First, our insanely competent civil litigation team filed a lawsuit against Sienna and Andrew that would have kept them in court for easily five years if they didn’t acquiesce to our demands, which included a full admission of their misdeeds, a retraction of everything they’d released about Zoey, the return of any and all photos and videos of me, and cooperation with my crisis management team to put our true story out there. Regardless, I’d make sure they’d never work as publicists for any legitimate entertainer ever again.
Next, we found a crisis publicist to help me repair the damage Sienna had done to us. Banafee Partners set up dozens of interviews for me to clear everything up. It took a couple of weeks, but things were turning around. Today, I’d also dealt with my mother once and for all. Evidence from my fucked-up childhood—all of the police reports, child protective reports, and my journal had been revealed in an exclusive interview I gave to Rolling Stone. My truth was coming out, I only could hope that it would help another child like me, have hope.
All these efforts didn’t erase the fact that Zoey’s reputation had been smeared mercilessly, but it certainly cushioned the long-term impact. As I’d promised Zoey’s dad, my business manager set up a trust for her. She’d never have to work another day in her life. It wasn’t how I’d hoped our story would end, but it was the only thing I could do.
When I’d given the paperwork to Mike, he told me that I was their son as sure as Zoey was their daughter. After his reaction to me in New York, I knew it wasn’t exactly true, but it made me feel better all the same. His approval didn’t change my reality with Zoey, but at least I knew that I’d done the best I could to make things right.
Exhausted, I trudged up the steps to the Pearson’s front door. The very best part of my day was when I could see Zoey, and I knew that our time was coming to an end. She was nearly healed. Last night she’d nearly woken up and found me sitting next to her, which couldn’t happen. I’d promised her parents I wouldn’t ever let anyone hurt her again and I meant it. It didn’t make each visit less distressing, because one of these days would be my last.
The front door opened a crack. I looked up anticipating her dad and was blown away when Zoey stepped through the door.
Wearing black leggings and an oversize University of Washington sweatshirt, my butterfly had no makeup on. But she was upright. Alert. Breathtaking.
“Ty—” Zoey’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“Z.” I stopped in my tracks.
We stared at each other for who knows how long.
“Come in.” Zoey held open the door.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Ty—”
“Okay.”
I followed Zoey into the kitchen, where she motioned for me to sit before putting on the electric kettle. Silently she made two cups of tea. My heart thudded. For weeks I had been resolved that my life would have to go on without the love of my life. In my mind, at this moment, the next few minutes would only confirm my agony.
“Here you go.” Zoey set my tea in front of me and sat down across the table.
“Thanks.” I couldn’t look her in the eye.
The dead-quiet of the late hour was unbearable. The heater kicked on in the old Craftsman house, and I jumped at the sound. Scrubbing my hands through my hair, I couldn’t help fidgeting. And waiting.
Finally, Zoey broke the ice. “I know I said some really horrible things to you, and I’m very sorry.”
I looked up from under the curtain of my hair, barely glancing at her. “I deserved everything you said to me.”
“Our reunion hasn’t really gone the way we hoped, has it?” Zoey’s voice was but a whisper.
“It’s my fault.” I clasped my hands around the hot cup. “Everything.”
“Can I show you something?”
“I should really go.”
“Please?” Zoey calmly pleaded. “It won’t take long.”
I nodded, then shut my eyes. Zoey left the room for a couple of minutes and returned with a laptop. She sat next to me and powered it on and launched a video. At first, I couldn’t make out what it was because the picture was so dark, but I could hear my voice.
“What is this?” I peeked over at her.
“Just listen. Watch.”
So I did. You could barely make out that it was me, but I recognized that the video was a feed from a nanny cam in Zoey’s bedroom. Upon further review, it was a collection of videos from over the past few weeks. I could hear myself talking to her softly, professing my love, filling her in on my day, and assuring her that I’d respect her wishes to stay out of her life. Sometimes I sang her songs. Other times I just held her hand. Or stroked her hair.
I shut it off after a few minutes. Bile roiled in my stomach, I
