‘Okay, what the hell. Where are these rumours coming from? You’re the second person who’s asked me that.’
‘So you aren’t in Texas? You and Chandler have multiple promo commitments in the LA area this week, starting tomorrow –’
Glenn shuffles into the kitchen, but stops and turns when he hears the voice blaring from the receiver. When I roll my eyes and mouth Janelle, he shakes his head and chuckles.
My stepfather is in the oil business. After decades growing his career in the field, he moved into management a few years ago. He’s good at his job because he’s firm but easygoing, traits that served him equally well as a stepfather to Kelley and Kylie. All things Hollywood confound and amuse Glenn.
‘Yeah, Janelle, I know.’
‘– so I just need to ascertain that you’ll be there,’ she continues as though I haven’t spoken, ‘unless something needs to be rescheduled …’ Her tone says that had better not be the case unless someone is dying. Namely, me.
‘No rescheduling necessary, Janelle. I had to run home to deal with some family issues, but I’m coming back to LA later today.’
Over the rim of his coffee cup, Glenn’s brows rise. I shake my head. I’m not ready to spill everything to my agent just yet. Especially knowing that conversation is going to include me telling her that in all likelihood, I’m going to turn down Paper Oceans. She may attempt to have me committed.
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ Janelle says. ‘I was just telling Amaris …’
My phone beeps and I check the screen easily, since I’m holding it away from my head.
Graham.
My mouth goes dry and I have to remind myself to breathe.
‘Janelle,’ I interrupt. ‘Janelle – I’ve got another call – I’ve got to take this. I’ll call you when I’m home tonight.’ I’m already grabbing what’s left of my tepid coffee and walking back to my room when I flash over. I try and fail to sound composed instead of freaked out. ‘Hello?’
‘Brooke. Emma said you called.’ His tone is guarded, non-committal, but his voice is so very familiar. My eyes fill and I swallow, suddenly at a loss for words.
‘Brooke?’ he repeats.
‘I’m here. I guess … I didn’t think you’d call. Thank you.’
‘I just want to know what you want. Don’t thank me yet.’
‘Okay. Okay.’ I take a deep breath. ‘A few weeks ago, I hired an investigator to check on the baby I gave up – just to make sure he was okay. I was having nightmares about him. I thought if I could find out he’s happy and healthy, the nightmares would stop and I could just … go on with my life.’
He makes no comment. The old Graham, in our old friendship, would have asked me some question. But I destroyed that relationship. I killed his trust and his care for me.
I close my bedroom door and sit on my bed. I have to do this for River. What I’ve lost is not of any consequence.
‘He’s in foster care. He was removed from his adoptive home by CPS.’
Hesitantly, he says, ‘That’s what Emma said. Do you know why?’
I feel a rush of gratitude for his question, and for the first time, I entertain the hope that he’ll listen. That maybe, for River’s sake, he can stop hating me long enough to not prevent me from getting him.
‘I don’t know all of it. I know his adoptive father died, but I don’t know how. I know his adoptive mother became a meth addict, and that she went into court-ordered rehab at least twice, and that she failed both times. I know that no relatives have stepped forward to take him – my PI is working on information about them. He’s been in foster care for months.’ Tears are rolling down my face. ‘Bethany Shank – my PI – gave me a photo of him.’
When my voice breaks, I hear a soft whoosh of breath from Graham and I think, Please-oh-please don’t think I’m faking this. ‘He’s so small. And he looks so sad. He needs me, Graham. That’s why I applied to adopt him –’
‘What?’ I know that he’s frowning now. Combing his dark hair back with one hand. Closing his eyes and shaking his head twice before opening them. ‘Emma said you told her you were trying to get him out of foster care – but we didn’t know what that meant, exactly. Adoption, Brooke? You?’
I’m trying so hard not to sound like I’m crying. My fingers press against that characteristic pain in my sternum, but nothing soothes the sharp burn of it, like a newly lit match, flaring to life just under my skin.
‘Yes. I’m all he’s got. It has to be me.’
He sighs. ‘It sounds like you mean well, and I can appreciate that you feel responsible for him, believe me. But he needs someone stable, someone … devoted to him. He’s just a little younger than Cara, right? You have no idea how much energy it requires to look after her, and I have my parents and my sisters. I have Emma.’
And you have no one. He doesn’t say the words, but they hang there between us, as though he has.
‘Emma said you wanted a favour?’
‘Yes. His caseworker is going to call you. Maybe his ad litem too. I don’t know what they’re going to ask, but please, just … just don’t say anything that will make me lose him. Please, Graham.’
I count my own heartbeats as they pulse through my ears. One. Two. Three. Four.
‘You really want this, don’t you? My concern is – why? He’s a child, Brooke. He can’t fill your need for affection. Children are owed love from their guardians – not the other way around.’