Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Leo: I have something you might want to see
Me: the list?
Leo: yes
I take a breath and lower my phone.
Leo: we’d have to meet in person
Me: when can you meet?
Leo: I’ll be available friday
I stare at the words. I have class and practice on Friday, but I’ll do anything to make this work.
Me: not at Onyx
Leo: my place?
I scoff. Fat chance of that happening.
Me: somewhere public. A coffee shop. I’ll send you the location. It has to be between 1-4
He sends me a wink emoji that I immediately want to delete, but decide not to. If I was dating Tate, I would have, since he would have gone through my phone and found a way to make me feel like I was doing something wrong. I set the phone down and open the school portal. After turning in my assignment, I click around to make sure I’m up to date on everything else, and an email pops up at the top of the screen. I see my last name and click it before I even process that this isn’t my computer and the email isn’t for me.
TOM FRAGA
Subject: RE: Santos/Fletcher
My last invoice is attached.
I glance at the subject line again, and at the signature in the email that says this Tom guy is a private investigator. As I try to wrap my head around what this could mean, I scroll down what seems to be an endless email chain. My stomach twists when I open candid pictures of me, and then candid pictures of Titus. One set of pictures in particular catches my attention. Not unlike some others, it’s me sitting at my favorite coffee shop down the street. Unlike the others, I’m looking at my phone with an angered, shocked expression on my face. I know from what I’m wearing that it was the moment I saw the videos circulating of Tate and Gracie making out.
I set a hand on my stomach, hoping it will lessen the sick feeling in it. I keep scrolling until I find the first email, which dates back to just after Mallory’s closed-casket funeral. What. The. Fuck. I note that Finn hasn’t responded to any of these emails, but he’s definitely seen them. I can imagine him getting them on his phone and scrolling through to see the pictures and updates this guy sends him. The invoice is from over a month ago and it says “last invoice,” so I have to assume he’s no longer having this guy following me around. It doesn’t make me feel any better though.
I look through the pictures again. Seeing pictures of myself doing everyday things like running at the park, playing pick-up basketball games with Tiago and Olivia, hanging out with Damian, pulling up at my mother and Titus’ house, makes me feel … exposed. He was having us followed for an entire year. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought. After sitting there for a while, I take a picture of the screen and send it to Finn. I don’t even bother texting words. I just want him to know that I know. I assume he’ll understand why this would upset me.
I sit at the edge of the bed as Lyla nurses the baby. Rosa James Duke. Apparently, Lachlan insisted on the middle name. I think it’s cute. Lyla thinks it’s corny, but smiles when she talks about it, so I think she secretly likes that they all have the same middle name.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks.
I stop staring at the top of the baby’s head and glance up at Lyla. “I don’t even know how to talk about it.”
“Well, let me know if you do,” she says, then adds, “Is it about Finn?”
“Baby, do you want…” Lachlan begins to interrupt, but stops short and looks at me. “What about Finn?”
I bristle. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?” He frowns as he sits down in the chair beside his wife and smiles at the baby.
“Because you’ll make a big fuss.”
“If you tell Lyla about it, I’ll make her tell me, and the outcome will be the same,” he says, setting a cloth on his shoulder and taking the baby from Lyla’s chest to start burping her.
“You’ve already said too much. You know how nosey he is,” Lyla says, rolling her eyes.
“Fine, but don’t say anything to him,” I say, shooting a pointed look at Lachlan, who looks too excited to be in on the gossip. “I was on the computer doing homework and an email of his popped up. I would have ignored it, but my name was on the subject line.”
“What did it say?” Lyla asks, eyes narrowed.
“There are endless candid pictures of me from a PI that go back over a year.”
Rosa’s burp was the only reaction I got out of the three of them.