“Still No Z McCartney! Will Hollywood’s Favorite Star be in Attendance at the Movie Buff Film Festival?”
~Hype Magazine~
Chapter Seven
Aubrey
“Hi, sweetheart,” my mom, Daphne, said as I entered the house. “How was work?”
“Brutal,” I replied, going to hug her briefly before plopping down onto the sofa and dropping my purse at my feet. “I’m so drained I feel like I could sleep for a week. How was your day?”
“It was great. I had lunch with your dad and some of our old friends from Montana. Do you remember John and Christine Bell? They were the ones who relocated to Montana from Australia and bought the Owen’s old farm during your senior year of high school.”
Thinking back, I remembered meeting them on a couple occasions. “I do. I didn’t really get to know them before I moved, but the few times I did have the opportunity to talk to them they seemed very nice. What were they doing here in LA?”
“They came to see Disneyland. They’ve never been and they loved it! I was so happy when they called and asked us to lunch. We got quite close after you moved away. They’re such wonderful people. I wish you could’ve seen them, too. I’m afraid we bragged a lot about you and Dustin.”
I smiled, laughing slightly. “You brag to everyone about Dustin and me. I’m surprised you don’t carry pictures to show.”
“I do. You just don’t know about them.” She grinned and winked at me.
“Speaking of the monster, where is he?” I asked, glancing around.
“He’s at the park with your dad. Brent finished a new model airplane and they went to test it out together. You should’ve seen Dustin’s face. It was priceless. You would’ve thought it was Christmas morning, he was so excited to try flying it.”
“Well, hopefully he doesn’t wreck this one. It always makes me nervous when dad lets him fly those planes. They’re so expensive, and aren’t really made to be played with by a nine year old boy.”
“I know, but he loves bonding with his grandson. The planes are just things. It’s the relationship your dad loves. I swear he’d adopt that kid if you’d let him.”
“Not a chance. I love my son too much to give him up.” Joy burst through my heart just thinking of him.
My boy. He was my life. Everything revolved around him. But even with the joy, there was still sorrow. Seeing Zane again had brought the past up again so strongly. He had no idea that he had a child, or that his adorable little boy looked just like him. No, I’d never forgotten Zane McCartney. I’d seen his face every single day, mirrored in the face of our son.
Guilt ate at me every minute I spent with Zane now. I was intentionally keeping my secret from him. I hadn’t told him the rest of the story—that I’d moved to LA after finding out I was pregnant. The day I’d caught him with those other girls, I’d been coming to tell him the news in person. I expected him to be shocked, but I also expected him to welcome me with open arms. I needed him to welcome me with open arms.
My parents had been furious with me, demanding that I either get an abortion or put the baby up for adoption. The disappointment in their eyes was more than I could bear. Refusing their suggestions, I left, after a very heated argument with them, hastily packing my bags and headed for Los Angeles and the love of my life.
And then my heart had been completely obliterated. After seeing Zane with those girls, I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. I kept waiting for him to call me again, to write, or something, but nothing ever came. He was simply gone—without a word.
Anger had consumed me. I knew I needed to tell him about the baby and my decision to keep it, but his success rapidly exploded shortly afterward. Suddenly he was everywhere, and Hollywood fell in love with him. Rumors about his wild party life were all over, on television and magazine covers, and a gorgeous, exotic looking starlet appeared on his arm. It didn’t take long for them to be branded as Hollywood’s new it couple. “Zauren” the tabloids called them, both their names, Z and Lauren put together.
It killed me a little more every time I saw the two of them, splashed across magazine covers everywhere. And while part of me was happy he was achieving such great success, I was hurt that he was doing it without me—and especially while I was struggling so badly.
However, the more I watched him, the more it began to occur to me that this was not the kind of life I wanted to raise a child in. Zane McCartney was not this “Z” person I kept seeing everywhere. It was as if the change in his name changed him, too.
Since my relationship with my parents seemed damaged beyond repair, I chose to stay. I spent my first weeks in LA in a seedy hotel because it was cheap and rented by the week. The stale smell of old cigarettes permeated everything so badly that I constantly threw up with morning sickness. I was sure people thought I was on drugs, too, since I wasted away to practically nothing. Between the pregnancy and my broken heart, there wasn’t much desire to eat.
When I did feel good, I spent all my time looking for a job. I was thrilled when I finally landed a position flipping burgers at a fast food restaurant. I didn’t tell them I was pregnant either, because I was afraid they wouldn’t hire me. Cooking meat almost killed me, though. It seemed like I was constantly running to the bathroom to puke some more. Finally the manager pulled me into his office and asked me what was going on. I fessed up and told him the truth amid a flurry of sobs. Thankfully he took pity on me and let me keep the job, even allowing me to wear a mask, which greatly filtered the smells for me.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Mom asked, drawing me out of my painful memories. “You’ve seemed so down this past week—like something is eating at you.”
Releasing a breath, I contemplated what to say. I hadn’t spoken a word to my parents about treating Zane all this time. They hated him worse than I did. And Dustin had no idea who his father was. He knew his dad was an old boyfriend of mine that had moved away and his name was Zane, but that was it. Since everyone in Hollywood called Zane “Z,” Dustin had never made the connection, something I was eternally grateful for—but now I wasn’t sure what to do.
Seeing Zane again made me want to tell him the truth, but I also didn’t want to give him any kind of shock that might jeopardize his recovery. The longer I was around him, however, the worse the guilt was eating at me until I was beginning to feel consumed by it. Apparently my ever-observant mother was picking up on that.
“I have some things going on at work that are causing me some significant stress. I’ll get it figured out.” I was purposely vague. Mom was good at ferreting things out of me.
“Is it anything you can talk to me about?” she asked, and I knew she wanted to help, but she knew the rules, too.
I shook my head. “Not without breaking patient confidentiality. It does have something to do with me personally, though. I’m just not sure how to deal with it.”
“Can you tell me anything without naming names, so it won’t break confidentiality? I just want to help if I can. I don’t like to see my pretty girl suffering.”
Biting my lip, I considered what I could say. Technically the thing I was having a hard time with had nothing to do with Zane being in recovery, just the fact that I was seeing him every day and my guilty conscience wouldn’t let me rest because of the secret I carried.
I was a stickler for rules, however, never discussing my patients with my parents—or anyone outside of work. Everything I did was strictly on a need to know basis and through proper channels. Privacy was a big important issue.
“I’m not sure I can say anything right now, Mom. I want to, though. I need to be able to talk to someone about all this. I’m just so confused right now.” Curling the end of my ponytail around my finger, I toyed absently with my hair as I tried to think of a solution. “Let me see if I can get permission to talk to you about this first. Maybe we could do dinner together tomorrow after I get off work?”
“That works for me. And if you can’t talk about it, just know that I’m here for you whenever you need me. Even if it’s just to lend a shoulder for you to lean on.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.” I meant every word. Despite our differences when I’d first moved to LA, my parents hadn’t been able to stay away long. I’d called my mom when I’d gone into labor and told them where I was and what had happened between Zane and me. She and my dad had rushed to my side, desperate to mend fences and help out.
Seeing their new grandson had been the final thing to help repair our relationship. Since I had no desire to return to Montana, they went home and sold their farm and moved here so they could help me out. Mom had watched the baby while I’d gone to nursing school to get my license. Several years later, I had the opportunity to buy the house right next door to theirs. It worked out great for them to pick Dustin up from school every day and watch him for me until I could get home. We were a strong family unit, but now all that was hanging in the balance again.
I had no idea how Zane would react to finding out he had a son. What if he was angry? What if he tried to sue me for custody? The guy was obviously well off. Certainly he could buy the best attorney around, if he didn’t own him—or her—already. The whole idea terrified me. I couldn’t lose Dustin. He was everything to me. Just the thought of losing him was enough to send me straight into a panic attack.
As if on cue, the door burst open and my darling son came running through the door. “Mom!” he shouted excitedly. “Grandpa took me to fly his new airplane! It was awesome!”
Laughing, I held my arms out. “That sounds like great fun! Come give me a hug, you stinker. I’ve missed you so much today!” He launched himself into my arms, squeezing me tightly and I kissed the top of his buzzed, brown hair, which was more the color of Zane’s hair than it was mine. “How was school today?”
“Good. I already got my homework done. Grandma made me do it before I could go to the park.”
“Good for Grandma,” I replied, glancing briefly at her and smiling. “Go grab your things and let’s go home and make some dinner. I’m starving.”
“Okay!” Releasing me, he quickly ran from the room.
“Best kid on the planet,” my mom said with a grin. “We sure are lucky, aren’t we?”
“We sure are,” I replied with a smile, my heart full of much needed joy. And I hope it stays that way, I added mentally to myself.