The next, a flurry of lights is blinding me.
I raise my hands, trying to hide from all the photographers circling around me. So many voices are shouting at me that I can’t process the words being hurled in my direction until suddenly, the loud roar becomes something intelligible.
“Can you tell us about your past, Taylor?”
“Who hit you?”
“Are you dating Darius?”
“Taylor?”
“Over here. Taylor?”
“Taylor…Taylor…Taylor…”
I’m spinning in a circle, hiding from the lights. I can’t move, continuing to bump into bodies. The sounds of shutters clicking and the screaming of my name are deafening. I feel the world closing in on me, my heart racing with the need to flee, sweat forming along my spine, when suddenly a firm hand grips my arm, yanking me to the side. The world around me is spinning when I feel two softer hands on my arm now, and I hear a door behind me slamming shut.
“Are you okay?”
I gasp, blinking rapidly, trying to see past all the black spots in my vision. Then everything clears and I find Allie staring at me, concerned. “Yes, I’m okay,” I breathe. Again and again, I inhale and exhale, attempting to slow my heart rate and ground myself, refusing to allow panic to steal my control.
Micah moves away from the door. “Let’s get upstairs before anyone finds their way in here.”
My head is still spinning and my body is tingling with pins and needles, when Allie links her arm with mine and we hurry to the elevator. The entire way up, and even while we quickly head down the hallway toward Allie’s condo, I can’t stop shaking.
“Shh, it’s okay now,” she says softly, clearly feeling my trembling as we follow Micah inside the condo.
I break away from her hold, kicking off my shoes, and move to the living room, dropping down onto the chair in the corner. I wrap my arms around my legs, shut my eyes, and breathe deep and slow until I feel the slowing of my heart rate and my muscles going lax. I’ve never been prone to panic attacks, but I felt violated and fearful even though I wasn’t in danger.
When I open my eyes again, I find Micah and Allie sitting on the couch, watching me. “Sorry, I’m okay. That was just really unexpected and kinda scary.”
“No one was expecting that,” says Micah, grabbing the blanket off the couch and wrapping it around my shoulders.
I grab the ends, pulling the blanket tight against me. “How did you find me out there?”
Micah’s intent stare tells me my face must be a little pale, but it’s Allie who answers me. “We saw you going out the door when we drove in. Then we heard all the yelling.”
“God,” I exhale deeply, relishing the slowing of my heartbeat. “I have no idea how that is not considered abuse.” All those people shouting at me, taking my picture without my consent, all for a story that is not anyone’s business.
“It should be,” Micah agrees, returning to his seat beside Allie.
I smile fondly at him, then ask Allie, “Did you see the tabloid today?”
She nods. “I did. I called, but you didn’t answer.”
I hadn’t talked to anyone. After I ended the interview with Sally, I turned off my phone and just left…maybe even sort of in a daze, I realize now. “How in the hell would they know about Shawn?” I direct the question at Micah.
He thrusts a hand through his dark hair, eyes tight with concern. “It seems that our friend Gabe has a spy in his pub.”
I blink. “A spy?”
“Unbelievable, right?” Allie comments.
“Totally,” I agree, shifting on the couch, facing them. “How did you find that out?”
Micah grabs Allie’s hand on his thigh, tangling his fingers in hers. “Because of the error of what was printed today.”
I didn’t need him to explain. I noticed the error myself. “The bruises being on the wrong side of my face, you mean?”