Dad kept shouting about his re-election campaign and the plans to get me into office, my own career, the White House, all that nonsense. I couldn’t believe it. “Are you telling me that my child and his mother were just exposed cruelly on the news, and all you care about is your damn career?” I snapped.
“And your career,” Dad replied, still angry. “How will you ever—”
“You mean the career you planned for me, the career that you want?” I replied. “People are more important than careers, Dad, I can’t believe I have to tell you this. Get your damn team on this and protect Laura and my son, for fuck’s sake. I’ll deal with this on my end.”
Dad began shouting again, something about how he wasn’t going to care about some floozy and whatever money she wanted to extort out of me, which just made me so angry I couldn’t speak, so I…well, for the first time in my life, I hung up on my father.
It was a relief to hear his voice cut out and be followed by blessed silence.
The phone began ringing almost immediately, of course, as he was calling me back. I put my phone on silent and looked at my messages, then deleted most of them. Della, Gray, and Mom were the only ones I responded to. Della was asking if I was okay and if there was anything she could do—I texted her that I was sorry to pull her into this, that I’d had no idea about my child while we were together, or I would have told her. That there was nothing to be done and I appreciated her thoughts. Mom wanted an explanation and demanded that I call my father. I told her that I would talk to Dad when he’ll stop insulting Laura. Finally, Gray just sent me a string of emojis, question marks, and exclamation points.
I responded with an I’ll explain later text and put my phone down.
Laura had sat up while I was on the phone, clothes clutched to her chest, and stared up at me. There was fear in her eyes, and I swallowed hard. I had to fix this for her, I had to. This was my fault, my stupid, awful behavior had gotten us filmed and caught, and now Laura and Drew—who was just a kid—were going to pay the price.
I had to fix this. Somehow.
28
Laura
We pulled up in front of my house, Cade and I, and I nearly threw up.
There were reporters everywhere, swarming the place. I wanted to burst into tears, but held it in. There was no way I was going to let reporters get a picture of me crying so that they could make awful assumptions.
Cade reached across the gear shift and took my hand, squeezing gently. “Breathe,” he murmured.
“I can’t believe there are so many people here just because of a little fight,” I whispered. “It was barely anything.”
“A politician’s son had a love child almost a decade ago,” Cade whispered. “That’s big news what with my dad seeking re-election. He’s trying to cross parties, you know, get more conservative voters and secure that middle ground.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking at him.
“This isn’t your fault,” Cade said firmly. “Trust me, I did this. I should’ve held in my temper. I was thinking about only how I had been hurt that I didn’t consider your feelings and I made a fool of myself. But it’s going to be okay. I’ll be with you the whole time. Just don’t say anything to the reporters, keep your head down, and I’ll get you inside.”
I took a few deep breaths, then nodded. I was so nervous and genuinely worried that I might throw up in front of all the reporters. What a way to make an introduction to the press.
Cade got out of the car first, then walked around and opened the door for
me, offering me his arm and tucking me into his side to keep me as shielded as possible from the prying cameras. He held up his other hand in front of us to create some space from the reporters and act as a shield, shoving anyone who tried to get too close out of the way.
I kept my head down and didn’t say anything, trying to avoid looking at any reporters at all. Everyone was shouting at us, demanding answers.
“How long have you known about your son?”
“Did you tell him about the child to get financial support?”
“How did you two meet?”
“What brought you back together to Detroit?”
“Did you know this whole time?”
“How does this effect your plans for Congress?”
“How do we know he’s really your son? Did you take a DNA test?”
We finally got to the front door. I grabbed my keys with shaking hands and started to unlock it, while Cade turned to face the reporters. The action meant that we were now back to back, his body blocking mine from the view of the cameras.