Page 55 of Breaking the Ice

“I’m going to get a soda out of the vending machine, too,” I tell her. “Do you want anything?”

“I’ll take a cola if you’re offering.” She smiles like a kid about to get a candy bar. My mom loves soda more than anyone I know. She says the carbonation feels like little fireworks on her tongue.

“I’ll be right back.” I grab my purse and leave the room. Once I’m in the hall, I pull out my phone and call Zach. There’s no answer, so I leave the following message: “Hey, Zach, it’s Ellie. I’ve been at the hospital with my mom. Call me when you get a chance.”

As I put dollar bills into the vending machine, I worry what Yolanda is going to do with the information about Zach staying in my mom’s cabin. She can’t walk onto the property without my knowing it, but still, the last thing my mom and I need is a media circus in our own backyard.

Taking the sodas back into my mom’s room, I discover she’s fallen asleep again. I leave the cola on her nightstand, and I write a quick note that I’ll check in later. Then I hightail it back home in case Yolanda shows up.

I really hope Zach calls me back soon. Even though I’m still back and forth about who to believe, I feel like a conversation would help me find my equilibrium.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Zach

While flying to Los Angeles, I try to figure out what plan Tony might have that will show Yolanda for the scheming woman she is. I come up dry. All I can think about is that Yolanda had to have set her sights on me long before we went out for the first time. The whole thing makes my skin crawl.

By the time I land in Santa Monica, I want to find the first reporter I can and share Yolanda’s plot with the world. Yet if I do that, she can still spin it like I’m a crazy man bent on destroying her. And let’s face it, there’s no one more sympathetic than a single pregnant woman who claims the father of her child wants nothing to do with her—especially if that guy is a well-known billionaire.

Instead of calling an Uber to pick me up, I ask my pilot, Jenny, to give me a ride. Jenny has been with me for five years and she’s proven to be as tight-lipped as they come. I’ve had some big celebrities and politicians on my plane, and she acts like they’re no more special than her daughter’s soccer buddies.

When we get into her Toyota, she asks, “Will we be flying again anytime soon?”

“You got big plans?” I ask. I usually give Jenny two days’ notice before I need to leave but sometimes, like today, I need her on the spur of the moment.

“Hallie wants to have a sleepover with her friends this weekend and Al wants no part of it.” Al is Jenny’s ex and he’s not the biggest help when it comes to raising their daughter.

“I honestly don’t know, Jen. Something big is about to happen and my schedule is at the mercy of how things go down.”

“No worries,” she says. “Honestly, I want four eleven-year-olds sleeping at my house about as much as I want to get married again.” She clarifies, “Which is never.”

“Tell Hallie I’ll make it up to her. I’ll even get her and her friends tickets to the next Taylor Swift show if she wants.”

Pulling out of the airport, Jenny tells me, “No way. You are not going to spoil my daughter. Her dad tries to buy her affection enough in place of spending time with her. I will not have her thinking men are there just to heap gifts on her.”

“You’re a good mom, Jenny.”

“It’s not easy.” She sounds like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.

I remember my mom saying that being a parent was like walking on water in the middle of a hurricane. And that was with my dad right at her side. I cannot imagine how difficult being a single parent is, especially when you have to balance an ever-changing work schedule.

“I could give you the tickets instead,” I tell Jenny.

She scoffs. “You can’t tempt me with concert tickets, Zach. However, if a gift certificate to Burke Williams showed up in my purse, I wouldn’t complain.”

“For a two-hour massage?” I guess.

“Make that a four-hour massage and a facial.” The look on her face says she’s teasing, but I know she could use the break. I quickly text Belle and ask her to make a call and help me make Jenny’s dreams come true.

The traffic on Pacific Coast Highway is a nightmare, so I spend the time answering emails. By the time we turn into The Colony, the exclusive gated community where I live, I’m nearly caught up on my correspondence.

Rolling down her window, Jenny shows her ID to the guard at the gate and then proceeds down the road to my house. As she pulls into my driveway, she asks, “Do you need anything else?”

“Just your normal discretion,” I tell her. “If anyone asks, I’m not here.”

I wave to Jenny as she drives off before I go inside. I nearly scream like a little girl when I see my twin, Mac, standing in my living room. “Holy crap, man, what are you doing here?”

He appears as surprised as I am. “I called your assistant and said that I needed to talk to you. You didn’t call back.”

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