I’m not a hairstylist, but I think my new do turns out okay. It feels weird to look at my reflection, the girl in the mirror a total stranger to me. I cut off my long locks just above the shoulders and even try my hand at giving myself bangs. They’re a bit lopsided and choppy, but I’m sure they’ll even out eventually. At the end of the day, I don’t care what I look like.
The only reason I’m out here is for my baby’s sake.
I have enough in my bank account to last several months. In that time, I’m hoping to come up with a new game plan. Maybe I’ll move across the country, find some small town where people don’t much care about things like celebrity drama or internet culture. Once I get my MCAT score, I might even try applying to a smaller medical school once the baby’s here and I can find some reliable childcare.
I know it’s not going to be as easy as one, two, three. There’s a lot of unexpected things that I don’t know how to plan for. For now, I’m just happy to be away from all the madness. There’s freedom in being in the middle of nowhere, left to my own devices. For the first time in what feels like forever, I finally have room to breathe.
I bought a few groceries while I was in the neighboring town, making sure to wear my trusty reflective sunglasses to be doubly sure no one would recognize me. As I prepare dinner, I FaceTime Taylor. I promised I’d call her to let her know I arrived safely.
“How is it out there?” she asks me. She’s wearing a smile, but I can hear the concern in her tone.
“It’s good. Great, actually. The only thing that’s changed is the furniture.”
“Did you hear aboutJuliet After Romeo?” she asks.
“You know for a fact that I deleted all my social media and news apps.” A moment passes, but I can’t deny my curiosity. “Did something happen?” I inquire sheepishly.
“It looks like a bunch of investors pulled out of the project because of the scandal. The film’s release date is being pushed.”
“To when?”
“Indefinitely.”
My heart twists in my chest. I know how much Hunter cares about this project. I’ve seen firsthand the time and dedication he’s put into making it a reality. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to see all that hard work go down the drain.
Taylor flicks her lighter open and closed, open and closed. The metallic sound is oddly soothing. It used to drive me nuts, but now it feels like a little reminder of home. “The paparazzi are still camping outside,” she informs me, “but they’re starting to dwindle. I think they’re finally starting to realize that you’ve skipped town.”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with them because of me.”
“Bah, it’s cool. I feel like a superstar every time I walk out to get a coffee. I’m going to have to start charging them for every pic they snap of me. Maybe I’ll retire from camming off that money.”
“I thought you liked camming?”
“Duh, of course I do, but I don’t want to do it forever. Who knows? The possibilities are endless. Maybe once those leeches finally pack up and go home, I can come out to visit you at the lake house?”
I smile. “That’d be nice, actually. We can go swimming when the weather’s warm.”
Taylor beams. “I’m going to hold you to it.”
“I should go,” I tell her softly. “I’m in the middle of making dinner.”
“Say no more, babe. Please take care of yourself. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Dinner is a quiet affair. Just a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup and some toasted sourdough bread. I’m slowly starting to figure out what sorts of foods I can handle. The baby doesn’t seem to like anything too fishy, and something about the slimy texture of cucumbers upsets my stomach.
That last one might just be me being picky.
Out of the corner of my eye, I think I spot movement through the window. It’s getting dark and the sun is setting just beyond the horizon, so I’m not entirely sure if I’m imagining things. It could have been a leaf or a weirdly shaped shadow from a passing cloud…
But paranoia sets in, creeping into the crevasses of my mind to fester and give way to alarm. I did everything I could think of to make sure I wasn’t followed, but could it be one of the photographers that’s been hounding me? They’re incessant enough that it’s not out of the realm of possibility.
I grab the broom that’s propped up near the front door and wield it like a spear.
I sincerely hope it’s a racoon, but at this point, I don’t mind the thought of skewering a paparazzo with my bare hands.
Carefully peeking past the door frame, I take a quick scan of the outside.