Change of Hart(82)

“So just call her, Jay,” Sara said. “You can even put me on the phone. I’ll tell her there’s nothing going on.”

I rested my elbows on my knees, face in my palms. “I already tried, Sara. It went straight to voicemail. This is really, really bad.”

The blue flashing light of my phone caught my attention again so I decided to suck it up and look at the message.

It was Addison.

Addison: I get it, Jason. I really do. She’s beautiful and talented. You guys look great together. I’m not mad, just hurt. Just, do me a favor and stick to your promise. You promised that no matter what happened between us, you would always be Jaxon’s friend. Please, please don’t go back on that promise. He can’t lose you, too, just because I wasn’t what you needed. I’ll have Mick or Samantha take him to you whenever you want until I feel strong enough to see you again. And thank you, Jason, for making me feel special. I’ll never forget that.

I stood up from the couch abruptly, staring at the screen. This couldn’t be happening. I had just found them. I couldn’t lose them over a stupid misunderstanding created by a bunch of low-life picture-takers.

“What’s wrong?” Elaine demanded. I walked briskly to her and handed her my phone. She read the text while I paced, then handed the phone to Sara and went back to typing.

“Please, Sara, please come with me to straighten this out,” I begged as I paced. “You gotta talk to her. Please. You know how I feel about her. About them.”

She looked up at Elaine and took a deep breath.

“You need to go, Sara,” she encouraged. “You don’t have anything on the schedule today or tomorrow and I can clear Wednesday if I need to. But you need to do this for him.”

“Can I even get a flight?”

“We’re actually in luck,” Elaine said, looking down at her computer again. “My mad computer skills have already found you a first class flight that leaves half an hour earlier than your original flight, Jason. And since the paparazzi has been out there all morning waiting to get a ‘morning after’ shot, I can book two extra seats for security if you want them.”

I whipped my head back to Sara, silently begging her to agree.

She nodded once. “Ok. Book it. I still don’t get all this drama. But if it were me, I’d expect the same from you, Jason.”

I let out a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you, Sara. Thank you.”

“Stop thanking her and go get packed,” Elaine said, still typing. “You need to leave here in about forty-five minutes if you’re gonna make it on time and I have to coordinate security and cars with Adam.”

Thirty minutes later, I was anxiously waiting in the living room for Sara to finish getting ready. I was trying desperately not to pace, but there was nothing else to do. I sent both my mom and Lindsay a text telling them not to believe what they see on the internet and that I’d explain everything later.

And by later, I meant after I sorted things out with my girlfriend. Because this relationship was not over. Not by a long shot.

When Sara was finally ready to go and she and Elaine had said all their goodbyes, we made our way to the elevator.

“You ready?” she asked as we waited to get on the first floor. We were flanked by security on each side.

“I keep calling her and she won’t answer,” I said, my throat tight. “I know what she’s thinking and there’s nothing I can do to set her straight right now. Of course I’m ready.”

“I was talking about the paparazzi,” she replied dryly.

As soon as the doors opened, we could see that the crowd had grown. I made the mistake of reading an article earlier speculating on why I had spent the night. Apparently someone I had hooked up with years ago came forward and gave an interview on what kind of night Sara probably had. I literally almost puked when I read that. And then I immediately started praying Addison had missed that one.

The part of this whole thing that made me the angriest is why it was being blown up into a big thing. Sara wasn’t even an A-lister. She did well, don’t get me wrong, but she wasn’t in the news every day like Angelina Jolie or Jennifer Lawrence. And I was just a football player.

The only reason these people were here is because of the sensationalism they could create. They had Addison painted as the poor defenseless widow, Sara as a home-wrecking whore and me as a heartless bastard that messes with the hearts of vulnerable women and their kids for sport. It pissed me off because by creating this scenario and passing it off as “truth,” I was about to lose the two things that had become the most precious to me.