Page 265 of Not Over You

She’d threatened to stop Ashleigh from learning martial arts a dozen times as a child. She had to start controlling her temper and stop using her talents on other children. Ashleigh had threatened to go live with her Dad instead.

“How can God be this cruel?” She swallowed against tears threatening to fall again. “How can we be blessed with two beautiful daughters and be left with one?” Her ex-husband didn’t reply. But then, he didn’t have the answers. “And he tried to take her, too. Why is that fair?”

“Mimi was in a bad place seven years ago but look at her now. She’s turned her life around and someone amazing came out of that really bad situation. Besides, we got someone else in the family who’s adorable, and you wouldn’t change that regardless of how bad the situation was.”

No, no she wouldn’t. The next generation of the Valentina family had begun seven years ago, and Macaulay was adorable and already taking on the family trade so well, even if Mimi was adamant Macaulay was going to be a child first and a star second.

William walked around the bed. His hand swallowed hers as she held on to Ashleigh. “It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. I’m sorry, Angel.”

Her eyes met his. A small part of her swooned over the pet name he’d used during the eight years of happiness in the ten years they were together. This conversation was long overdue. “I shouldn’t have blamed you either, William. Your father had just died. Your head was a mess already. I’m so sorry for all those awful things I said; you tried your best.”

The silence fell between them. The monitors sounding out the steady artificial beat provided for Ashleigh’s heart. The gush of each breath hung in the air. The beep of each machine foretold their daughter’s future. When the time came, a flick of each switch would take her farther away until Ashleigh was gone forever.

“Are you sure we’re making the right decision?” Angela asked, looking at her baby girl. “I know what the doctors have said, and I know we’ve organized the family to be here so we can break the news to them in person but... what if they’re wrong? And this is going to be hard on Mimi.” She turned back to William. “They’ve argued over the role on LA Sunset for years and we’ve got to tell Mimi we’re turning off Ashleigh’s life support. It’s going to eat her up inside. It’ll kill her.”

“Let’s go get a cup of coffee.” William sighed “You need a break.”

“But—”

“Angel, I’m sorry,” he said as his voice cracked. William closed his eyes against the tears that formed in them, but they settled on his lashes anyway. His head fell toward his chest and Angela’s heart broke. His shoulders shook as he whispered, “Ashleigh’s not going to wake up.”

CHAPTER 1

SEAN

Twelve months later

* * *

Another cork pops, the champagne fizzes, and spills over. The crowd cheers around me. For a Wednesday evening it seems like everyone from the office has forgone meals at home with their spouses, kids, or friends, to celebrate with me at The Bar on the Corner.

Instead of the usual low-level volume of the big screen, the latest chart-topping dance music thumps over the sound system and the trendy bar’s staff, wearing fitted black tees bearing the bar’s logo, rush around us with trays of canapés.

I didn’t realize the get together would be such a big deal. My boss had suggested it, and it was entirely last minute, but now it’s breaking into a full-fledged party. Too bad I can’t drag my attention away from the big screen and the long-awaited reunion special for one of the biggest sitcoms in the nineties.

After Friends and Harry Potter, these nostalgic reunion shows were becoming all the rage, and Baker’s Dozen was highly anticipated. It had been dogged with cast fallouts and controversies ever since the show ended, and despite the guaranteed fireworks, they were broadcasting it live!

“Can’t you leave them alone for five minutes, Sean?”

A delicate porcelain hand loops through the crook of my elbow. The sweet scent of fairground cotton candy wraps around me and pulls my attention away from the big screen. My new boss, Candice McCormack, tugs me toward the main table in the quarter of the bar we’ve occupied for this impromptu gathering.

She’s only just stepped into her late father’s shoes as the Chief Editor and CEO of MacNews Inc. She’s making a real hash of it, but that’s not what you tell the girl warming your bed at night. You support her, attempt to guide her, and nudge her in the right direction. Even though she never listens. She’s the boss. What do I know after twenty plus years as a journalist in one form or another?

“While I don’t condone your stalker-like techniques, I certainly approve of their results.” Candice beams a smile up at me. It’s her let’s keep it professional but still flirt smile. “Dad would be proud of you.”

Delight swells in my chest, even if it’s tainted with grief. It meant a lot. Her father was the only man willing to give me a second chance under a pseudonym after my award-winning nationally syndicated column was obliterated by lies six years ago. All it took was one very untrustworthy source to put me at the center of a national media scandal—in handcuffs—and destroy my life.

But no, there was no stalker-like behavior needed to achieve success. Just being in the right place at the right time, with the latest smartphone with a massive megapixel, ultra-zoom camera. The picture of Krystal Valentina and Justin Ramirez in a romantic clinch went viral in minutes. And then, a twin sister angry enough to leak her sister and her ex’s whereabouts and the dedication to pursue those leads.

And, of course, the dedication to continue posting pictures, giving minute-by-minute updates of my tedious, yet glamorous, lifestyle as a showbiz reporter, and lots of uninteresting conversations with my ever-growing army of followers. Because I broke the story on the hottest couple in Hollywood fifteen months ago, my pseudonym, JT Preston, is the go-to source for information on everything showbiz. I’m also the must be seen guy too. It isn’t worth talking about if JT Preston isn’t talking about it.

I used to be someone. I used to make a difference. I used to report on real people with real lives on the streets of New York. I was considered for a Pulitzer. Who’s fucking who, falling out of nightclubs, popping pills or shoving illegal substances up the nose or in their arms… this is what’s become of me. I’m a joke!

Candice stops in front of my colleagues and work friends and taps her super long fake nails against her champagne glass. The clinking noise draws their attention.

“I know you’ve all been wondering why we’ve been in talks with Jackson Matthews and his production team,” she says loud enough for everyone to hear above the music. “And I know you’ve all been worried that, since my father passed away, Jackson is putting in a takeover bid. I know a lot of you have been worried about your jobs.” She smiles—or rather, she grins. My success is a boon for her, too. “Well, you need not be. Jackson is not that interested in what we do to want the whole company. He just wants part of it.” She raises her glass and turns to me. “A toast to JT, who’ll be hosting the showbiz round up on The Jackson Matthew's Show.”

The crowd of thirty or so erupts in a cheer loud enough to raise the five stories above us. I lift my glass toward the ceiling and nod graciously at the congratulations. I should be more excited about this. This is big. Perhaps I can brush my lack of enthusiasm aside; I’ve known this was coming for weeks, but it’s just not that.

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