Page 95 of Falling for Grace

He continues to stare at me, his green eyes full of revulsion.

“It’s exactly what I did to Danny. I pushed and pushed until eventually, he gave up. But you know the difference between your brother and me? You used to tell me it all the time. I’m more stubborn.”

His knees give in and he slumps down the wall, placing his head in his hands. I crouch in front of him, trying desperately to ignore the whisperings of the small crowd behind me.

As soon as passers-by see the paparazzi, they start to join with the crowd. But it doesn’t seem to bother Brandon, who appears completely oblivious.

“Brandon,” I whisper. He ignores me, his head still in his hands. “Brandon, please.”

After several seconds that feel 10 times longer and tedious, he finally looks up, his eyes red and swollen.

“You can’t do this alone, you have to let me help you.”

He stares at me and the first tears finally escapes the bloodshot green.

“Don’t push me away,” I beg. “I’ve been there, I’ve been in that exact spot, but I did it alone. Brandon, you don’t have to do this alone.”

“What is she talking about? Hey, love, what are you talking about?”

Brandon looks past me and notices the crowd for the first time.

“Let’s go get a coffee,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand. “Away from prying eyes, somewhere more private where we can talk.”

He stares up at my hand and takes it. His hand is as cold as ice and I have to pull with all my weight to get him standing. He sways on the spot and I watch as he struggles to hold his trousers up.

I step forward and pull his belt round to the front and do it up. Now that I’m closer to him I can see the toll this bender is having on his body. His normally tanned skin looks pale and grey. He looks slimmer, his muscles not as defined as they once were.

“Come on.” I hold out my hand.

“No, Grace, I’m not coming with you. I can barely even look at you,” he says through clenched teeth. “For three years you lied to me. Three fucking years.”

We cannot have this conversation here, outside Target with an audience.

I feel as if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see whether Brandon has lost all sense and self-control and will take us down this path for the world to see. If he does, I’m not sure I can survive it.

“Brandon,” I plead, shaking my head slightly. “Please, not here.”

“Not here?” he growls. “You're in my town now, Gracie. Welcome to the limelight. It’s going to get out, you know that. You can’t have the baby of one of Hollywood’s biggest names and no one find out about it.”

I hear a gasp from behind me, followed by muttering.

“A baby?”

“Did he just say baby?”

“When did this happen? Who is she?”

Question after question filters over me and I bend forward, gasping, the wind knocked out of me.

He did not just do that.

“Brandon, I beg of you. Not like this.” Tears are streaming down my face. I couldn’t stop them even if I tried.

“Why not here?” he spits, getting close to me and invading my space. This is not Brandon. My Brandon is gone, replaced with this horrible, disgusting man. I want to be sick. The way he’s looking at me, snarling at me, talking about her in front of everyone.

“Why don’t we just tell them? Save them the job. Don’t hide your face, Grace.” He grabs my chin roughly and pulls me up, turning me around to face the people.

“Hey, Brandon, lay off her,” one of the paps says, putting down his camera. He’s shorter than his friend, but that’s the only real attribute I can pick out as my eyes blur. I can see the store security guard coming over.

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