Page 163 of Beautifully Scarred

Not wanting to wake her, I trudge out to the kitchen and find her purse on the kitchen counter. I rustle through a few loose receipts and open a small bag, but it just has makeup. I take out her wallet and spot another small pouch, but to get to it, I have to take more stuff out of the purse. It’s like a bunch of small purses in one. No wonder it always weighs so much. Man, women carry around way too much shit.

Opening the pouch, I finally see the bottle of Advil in the bottom corner. As I shove everything back into her purse, I find a receipt from an alteration place. Staring at the total, I blow out an annoyed breath at how much this wedding is costing us. My eyes fall to the handwritten note on the receipt.

Call 213-878-1023 when ready.

That’s not Adelaide’s number, since her area code is 323, which I only remember because we had a whole conversation last year about area codes when she had to get a new phone number.

Sitting on the table, in the stack of everything I took out of her purse, is the phone she’s been using for anything wedding-related.

I must be losing it. No way she’d do that.

I stare at the wedding phone in my palm, my breath ragged. There’s no way.

Setting my phone on the counter, I pull up Keane’s text message again.

Keane: He says the tip came in from the number 213-878-1023 via text. I’ll get someone on trying to figure out whose number it is in the morning.

I compare the number from the text to the alteration receipt.

I power up Adelaide’s phone and dial my cell phone number. My phone screen lights up with the number matching the alteration receipt.

Unknown Number

213-878-1023

I reject the call.

Reality knocks the wind out of me, and I gasp for air. My chest hurts and my heart pounds out a rhythm my chest can barely contain.

Adelaide tipped off the press about Monica?

Betrayal slows the blood in my veins.

I shove my phone back into my pocket and squeeze hers while my feet pound down the hall. I flick the light on in the bedroom and stalk over to the bed.

“James?” She covers her eyes with her hand. “What the hell?”

“How could you?” Seething anger colors my voice.

Her forehead scrunches, looking confused, before her gaze dips to her phone in my hand. Her face pales. “What? I—”

I throw the phone across the room and it crashes against the wall before falling to the floor. “Don’t even try to deny it. How could you betray me like this?”

She sits up in bed and brings her knees to her chest, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry. But I did it for you, I swear. For us!”

I turn away from her, pushing my hands through my hair, unable to stomach looking at her. “How is putting my daughter in harm's way what’s best for me?”

“When we went to see her, Lilah was going on about how she didn’t want her to be exposed to the Hollywood lifestyle and everything that goes with it. Her reservations about going public… I wanted you to see now rather than later that it might be better if you’re not so involved in your daughter’s life. At least then you wouldn’t get your heart as broken. Better to do it now before you get more attached.”

I whip around to face her. “What does that have to do with betraying me by contacting the press and blindsiding Lilah and Monica when you know we had a plan in place?” My fists clench at my sides. The wall is tempting right now.

She throws her arms in the air and slams them down on the mattress. There’s matching anger in her eyes. “Lilah, Lilah, Lilah! God, I’m so sick of hearing that woman’s name! She’s taking over our lives!”

“This had nothing to do with Lilah and everything to do with Monica!”

“Are you trying to tell me a part of you doesn’t still feel a connection to her?”

“We share a daughter—we willalwaysbe connected now. That’s no excuse for you to have done this,” I seethe.

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