Page 31 of Holding On

Me

I’m thankful for you, Jack. I hope you know that.

Jack

It’s mutual… more than you know.

Me

Can we facetime later or in the morning there? I’d love to say hi and see you.

Jack

Absolutely. I’ll text you later.

Me

Looking forward to it.

Jack

Me too, baby.

I wish I could shout it from the rooftop how much I’m looking forward to it … but unfortunately, I am still under that dumb contract Rick coerced me into signing. Daphne and Pippa have been amazing, along with the entire team of lawyers that I now have on my side. We have managed to untangle and remove his teeth from almost every pound of flesh he was controlling. If the contract with Roman Cash had been signed by Rick, we could’ve contested it, but right now, things are tied up with our lawyers.

It also means Roman is even less pleasant to deal with, but our deal was a public sighting that averaged once every six weeks. So, when I was seen with him both at Music Fest and the following day when he insisted we meet for lunch, he gave me a twelve-week break without even knowing it.

Daphne thinks they can get Roman’s team to agree to shorten the contract, and I might be able to be out of it six months early, which means I would only have to attend the Grammys with him, then we would have our mutual breakup. It’s not ideal, but February is a lot better than August. My team assures me they are trying their best and I believe them; they have already done so much.

Rick and Debbie Jo were both released the following day after their bond hearings. Debbie Jo was able to get her charges reduced and issued a fine, but Rick was not as lucky.

Pippa had requested a no-contact order and the judge agreed, along with a substantial financial bond—that Rick had to secure with his own money. At his hearing eight days later, the judge extended it to a full restraining order that will last for twelve months, at which point we can revisit the issue. The charges are currently just misdemeanors that he’s facing, but my legal team assures me they are looking at every possible angle. I’m hoping by then he is rotting in jail, but I’ve learned to be cautious with my hopes when it comes to Rick.

Our mother has been livid—when she’s coherent enough to figure out how to call Wells or myself. I no longer take her calls as she has made it abundantly clear whose side of this entire ordeal she is on—and it’s not mine. It’s never been mine. She leaves drunk voicemails, belligerent text messages, and has threatened to show up wherever I am, but I’ve made it clear to my security team: they are not to allow her near me.

I don’t have my mother’s support, but I have my brother, Allie, and Jack, on top of my newfound freedom. I have so much to be grateful for this year, it’s easy to be thankful.

“Tinsley! ¡Vamos!” Come on! “Get out here or I’m going to eat all the bacon!” Wells yells down the hall. I grin as I hop out of bed, and for the first time in my adult life, I’m actually looking forward to the holidays this year.

Especially New Year’s Eve.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Liam texts that he arrived in my penthouse’s underground parking and I grab my jacket before heading down the elevator. With all the insanity of the last two months, I shouldn’t have been surprised when Liam called me last week.

It was strange when he asked if I was alone and then told me to sit down because we needed to talk.

Understatement of the year.

But surprise doesn’t even adequately describe the emotions of that phone call.

Furious? Flabbergasted? Dumfounded?

I still don’t know. We’ve had multiple conversations since the initial call about all of it, and I’m still just … overwhelmed. We managed to find a brief window for a private face-to-face discussion while we were at Savannah and Theo’s engagement party last night, and both agreed we needed to address this as soon as possible. We may not have any idea how this is going to go, but it’s going to be complicated and emotional, and putting it off only adds to potential pain.

Liam’s black SUV is idling as he waits for me. I once asked him how many vehicles he owned and he asked in what state. I clarified with anywhere he owns a vehicle. He then asked about street legality and vehicle classes, so I gave up and told him to forget it. They always smell new, and sometimes I think they might be, but some days, I don’t think I’d be surprised if he told me he owned a tank. Nothing surprises me when it comes to my brother—well, outside of the phone call from last week that is.

“Hey.” His solemn greeting is appropriate. “Are you ready for this?” He shifts the car into drive as soon as I buckle my seatbelt.