Kitt’s eyes are wild. He’s petrified that I won’t believe him, but I do. This sort of thing happens too often. I’ve been through it with Will and my dad, too. Kitt would never risk getting someone pregnant. Dad definitely would’ve scared them half to death and made sure they knew to be overly cautious.
“Okay.” I hand my phone back to Peyton and pull Kitt toward me. “This is no surprise. Some women do this. Next week, I’ll be having an affair or something equally ridiculous.”
He slides his hands around my back. “So, you’re okay? We’re okay?”
“We’re better than okay. Neither of us can control what people say, but we can control what we believe. I trust you over anyone else, and I don’t care what anyone says about all this.”
“You mean, your dad?”
“He’ll know she’s lying, too.”
He bends his head and kisses me. He’s tense still, and I know it’s because he hates things being written about him. He stresses so much, worrying that I’ll eventually believe a rumour. I used to care what was written about me, but over time, it has become the norm. People will always have an opinion, and they will always say things to get attention or make themselves feel better. What I won’t do is ever lower myself to a point where I believe lying strangers over the people I love and trust.
“Can we get out of here? I want you to myself,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Definitely. I have some making up to do, remember?”
He smirks. “As if I’d forget.”
KITT
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 24
NEW YORK
The last ten days have been hell. Half the world is behind me, and the other half thinks I’m a bastard for denying my child. People who don’t know me or the women hell-bent on destroying my life are judging and picking sides.
Lindsay, my publicist, has released a statement, denying that I’m the father, and she’s advised me not to mention it at all. She’s also made it very clear that I’m not to be questioned on it during interviews or any other appearances. The woman is a legend, and as hard as this is, she’s been making it a lot easier.
Texas has been hounded with messages of support, sympathy, or abuse. She is the true innocent person and the only one I give a fuck about. When someone says something about her, I feel like going fucking postal.
I hold her close as we walk out of the airport. Cameras click, and the flashes coming from so many make me wince. Texas looks up, and her eyes are wide. She’s scared. There are more people here than what we were exposed to in England.
Ted and Hank pull closer, and Lars steps behind us. We have four other guys here, too, and they closely shadow Enigma, Milo, and Coop.
I’m bumped to the side as security fights to keep the crowd at bay. I clamp my arm around Texas and pull her in front of me.
Her name is being screamed almost as loudly as mine. It would seem that not everyone is here to shout shit though. There’s a lot of, “I love you,” in there as well.
But it’s too much. I’m not naive. I know how things can get, but this is insanity. I step in line with her.
Texas smiles as she wraps her arm around me. She doesn’t care what they say. I don’t care.
You do care. You care that they’re saying shit about the woman you love.
“Kitt, can I have an autograph?”
“Can we get a picture?”
“We love you!”
“You’re a disgrace.”
“How does it feel to know your boy fucks other women?”
I tighten my grip on Tex. She heard that, but it doesn’t show. Her smile never falters as we push our way through the suffocating crowd. Ted’s arms come out as a group beside us lunges forward. I’m jolted to the side, and Texas slips through my arm, crashing to the floor.
Fuck.
I taste bitter anger on my tongue as I bend down to get her. Ted is already there, and Tex is pushing herself up. Laughing, she shakes her head.
How can she laugh?
Ted practically elbows everyone else in our way. Mark takes charge of Tex and hauls her into the car. I’m left a few steps behind, feeling like shit. I stumble forward with ice in my stomach. Milo claps my back as I get in the limo.
What the fuck am I going to do?
Closing my eyes, I rub my hand over my face, trying to formulate a plan. It’d be nearly impossible to get everyone to believe that I’m telling the truth and to respect our personal fucking space. I’m public property now.
Texas scoots over and pulls my arm down.
“I’m so sorry, Tex.”
“I fell over myself, Kitt. I’ve fallen over nothing at all plenty of times. That’s no one’s fault but Dad’s and Jennifer’s dodgy genes.”
Mark looks over but doesn’t bite. I can’t tell if he’s pissed or not. He’s always watching, always judging whether I stack up or not. I usually think I do all right, but today, I failed.
I fucking let her fall!
“Kitt, please, don’t beat yourself up over this.”
Her hand reaches out, and I grip her wrist.
“You’re bleeding.”
And it’s all your fault.
“Oh.” She looks down at her grazed palm and winces. “Damn, I didn’t even feel it.”
“There a first aid box in here, mate?” Ted asks the driver.