Page 83 of Fighting Fate

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The world as I knew it has been turned upside down. The instant the director calls it a day on the dress rehearsal, my babysitter makes his way backstage to escort me to the dressing room. With opening night next weekend, my nerves are already running on high, and even though Rory’s hired a bodyguard to be extra safe, I’m still on edge.

Everywhere I fucking look, there’s a shadow that wasn’t there before. If having security around me 24/7 was supposed to reassure me that I’m safe…fuck, there’s something really fucking wrong with me because it makes me feel more vulnerable than I did the night of the break-in.

“I’ll wait out here,” Andrew tells me, posting himself outside my dressing door.

He’s tall, blond with piercing blue eyes, and tattooed to the max. A part of me is waiting for his fans around the theatre to send me hate mail too.

The trusty bag from the press office is sitting on the dressing table. Just the sight of it gives me the creeps. But like I promised the inspectors still investigating the break-in weeks ago, I put it in my bag to pass it along later.

I’m almost done getting ready to leave, as I put on my shoes, when the commotion outside begins. Rory and I are meeting at the clinic for our second scan, and I don’t want anything to cloud that. Despite everything going on, we’ve been looking forward to today.

I’m quick to grab my bag and open the door to leave. However, the minute I step outside my dressing room, I wish I’d stayed put instead.

“Doesn’t matter who you are,” Andrew says. His voice is low and impassive, and even though he has his back to me, he mirrors every move I make.

“I am a director,” Peter rages at him.

I can’t see him, but I’ve had a few too many encounters with this side of him to picture the sneer on his face. It makes my skin crawl, causing me to take a step back.

“Not on this show.” Andrew lets out a deep breath.

“Listen, you fucking—”

“Touch me again and I’ll rip your arms off,” Andrew growls, cutting Peter off and pulling back to let me past him as he turns to block him. I don’t wait for him to tell me to get moving. I make quick work of getting myself as far down the corridor to the exit stairwell as possible. “Try to get past me, I’ll take your legs out from under you. Go anywhere near Miss Anson, and you’ll be taking your life in your hands. This is your one and only warning.”

“Willow!” Peter calls after me.

I don’t look back, ignoring his continuous calls as Andrew catches up to me and follows behind me in silence. Even when we get into the car, he just keeps moving on with things.

Ignoring the weird atmosphere, I text Rory to let him know we’re on our way. Of course, he’s already left the gym and almost to the clinic.

Willow:What happened to training?

Last night,he said he had a double training session today ahead of next month’s fight. He’s not fazed by it as much as I thought he would be. Rory seems more than confident that he’s got it in the bag, but Taylor and Marcus are on his case about it so much that he’s pushing himself harder and harder.

In a way, I’m grateful for it—it means that he’s too exhausted to push for more from me. Especially with us living under the same roof at the minute. Again, not my choice, but it was his place or crashing at Mum and Dad’s until we’ve heard something from the detectives because just the thought of going back to my place gives me the heebie-jeebies. I don’t think I could cope with Mum’s fussing with the pregnancy and then the possibility that someone is out to get me.

Rory:Priorities. x

His reply makesmy chest squeeze so tight that I shudder at the sensation. The way he’s been about everything since I told him I was keeping the baby has me so confused. We’re in this limbo I created where we want the same things, but I’m too scared to let him all the way in again. I want to—every time he touches me or even looks at me, I want more—but things are more complicated than ever. And after the threat to the baby…I just can’t go there.

It’s not just about me and him anymore. We have this little one to think about, and the more my belly grows, the more aware I am that he’s going to be here soon. It doesn’t matter how upside-down our lives are right now, because they’re only going to get crazier, and the last thing I want is to add to it.

* * *

The soundof our little boy’s heartbeat is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It’s still echoing in my ears as we drive back home. Rory has a goofy smile on his face that I’ve never seen before. The kind that makes me smile too because the giddiness is too much to contain.

“So, I took that list you showed me…” he says, turning the almost muted radio down completely. “And I know you have a budget, but we’re gonna split it anyway, right?”

“Your way of splitting it is covering everything.”

He laughs at my remark, but it’s true. Every discussion we’ve had that revolves around money seems to always come to the conclusion that he’ll pay. Sure, I get that he feels like he’s on the back foot because he can’t incubate our kid, but it’s ridiculous.

“You’re not footing the bill for our child on your Jack Jones. There’s two of us, so…”

“Who the fuck is Jack Jones?” He side glances at me, and the quirk of his brow and twist of his lips says he’s not happy about another guy’s name making it into the conversation.

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