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I smiled. I thought so too.
CHAPTER 51
NOAH
My mother was staying in London for a week. She said she hadn’t visited the city in a while and wanted to explore some of the sights, but I suspected she was more interested in getting to know Carina. If my dad’s leg didn’t make it hard for him to travel, he’d probably be here too, asking her a million questions and telling her embarrassing stories from my childhood.
Luckily (or unluckily), my mother and Carina took to each other like ducks to water. Together with Evie, they basically turned me into a fourth wheel in my own house. I grumbled and complained, but secretly, I was happy they were getting along so well.
I still had to deal with the Andersons, but for now, I let myself enjoy my time with my family. I wasn’t even upset with my mother anymore for secretly bringing Evie back. Honestly, hanging out with Evie and hearing her laughter had lifted my spirits more than anything else besides reconciling with Carina.
Things were going so well that I should’ve known better than to push my luck, but with Evie begging for a meal at her favorite restaurant, I decided to take her to our usual Sunday spot on Wednesday night instead. My mother and Carina were attending a West End show together (adults only, and Evie wasn’t interested in plays anyway), so it was just the two of us.
Dinner went swimmingly. Evie devoured her favorite pasta and cheesecake, and we had plenty of father-daughter bonding time. She seemed to have gotten over her initial upset about the custody suit, though perhaps she was simply avoiding the topic.
“What would you like to do tomorrow?” I asked as we headed toward the exit.
Her brow wrinkled in thought. “Carina says there’s a really cool pop-up museum she wants to take me to. It’s filled with those weird paintings that trick your eyes.”
“Optical illusions?” I guessed.
I pushed open the door, but Evie’s reply was drowned out by a sudden burst of shouts and camera flashes. There were only three photographers, but they came out of nowhere. They swarmed us, their shutters snapping and their elbows jostling for position.
“Noah! Where’s Carina?”
“What’s your comment on rumors that she’s pregnant?”
“Is it true that you’re having twins?”
The chaos was such a shock to my senses that it took an extra beat for my brain to process what was happening. Once it did, I threw myself in front of Evie, who stood frozen in shock. I’d kept her shielded from the media all her life, and this was her first time facing the paparazzi. She looked stricken by the onslaught, her eyes huge and her skin paper-white in the harsh glare of the camera flashes.
She was probably thinking the same thing I was: what were the paps doing here, and how the hell did they find out where we’d be tonight?
One of the photographers ducked around me, lifting his camera to capture a better angle of her, and something inside me snapped. My initial disbelief gave way to pure, blistering fury.
They knew the rules. No pictures or videos of my daughter. Ever. The how or why didn’t matter anymore. Not when they’d crossed the one line I never allowed anyone to cross.
I ripped the camera out of the photographer’s hands and shoved him hard enough to send him reeling. “Get the fuck away from her,” I snarled. The sheer force of my anger warped my voice, rendering it nearly unrecognizable, and it fueled my strength as I smashed the camera on the ground. It hit the concrete with a satisfying crunch.
The photographer howled in outrage. “You’ll pay for that!” He tried to shove me back, but I didn’t give an inch. At the same time, one of his friends attempted to sneak around my other side. I caught him by the arm and threw him off-balance, but it was two against one, and the altercation devolved into a blur of fists, elbows, and curses. The third photographer stood to the side, capturing the mayhem with visible delight.
My pulse pounded like a war drum. Evie. I need to get Evie. The thought cut through the adrenaline clouding my brain. We had to get out of here, fast, but first, I needed to break free from the paps, who were more aggressive than any others I’d encountered before.
One of them lunged for me again. I deflected him out of instinct, and he staggered backward—right into a still-shell-shocked Evie, who lost her footing and tumbled onto the ground with a loud cry.
The sound ripped the rage right out of my veins. My blood iced, and the red receded from my vision long enough for me to see the paps scampering off into the night. They were running away, but I didn’t care about them anymore. I only cared about my daughter.
The aftermath was a haze as I gathered a sobbing Evie into my arms and spirited her to our car. She was more upset about the harassment than her fall, but that didn’t stop my hands from shaking as I checked her for injuries. A scraped knee, a potentially sprained ankle—it could’ve been much worse, but I couldn’t shake the sick feeling in my gut. She shouldn’t have been injured at all. I’d promised to protect her, and I’d failed.
“I’m okay, Daddy.” She hiccupped halfway through our drive home. Her sobs had slowed, but her face was still wet with tears. “But I don’t want to go out to dinner anymore.”
“That’s okay, sweetheart,” I said, my voice cracking. My chest felt too tight and small for the guilt trapped inside it. “We won’t.”
The photos were splashed across the tabloids the next morning. Me getting into a brawl with the photographers, Evie hurt and crying—all of it fodder for public consumption.
My mom and Carina rallied the instant they found out what happened. They helped calm Evie down, and they kept her from seeing the pictures by distracting her with a marathon of movies, baking projects, and other activities. It seemed to have worked. Evie was feeling noticeably better by the following evening.
My mom and Carina also tried to make me feel better about the incident—it wasn’t my fault, I’d been ambushed, it was unconscionable for the paparazzi to target a child—but I was less easily comforted than my daughter. Evie’s bruises would fade, but the memory of her crying on the pavement would haunt me forever.
