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Nova Allen pregnant. Is it Justice’s baby or a secret love child that caused the breakup between them?
Another post shows me at that same bad angle and says,Who’s the father?
I don’t understand. Is this some new kind of fat-shaming? I’m not pregnant! Never have I ever imagined this would happen. Nothing like it ever has. Compared to Hollywood standards, I’m not thin but no one has ever mistaken me for being pregnant.
A tear drips onto my phone, alerting me that I’m crying. This is stupid. I wipe my wet cheeks and sniffle, working to stop myself before I break into an ugly cry. I’m not what these posts say but I can’t stop the hurt they cause.
I hate being singled out. I put myself in the limelight with Justice, but I don’t deserve this. I’ve done nothing since I learned he married. I’ve kept quiet and to myself.
I wipe my nose and burning eyes.
The glass door opens.
Riley’s gaze finds mine.
“What the hell?” He races into the room, a tray in his hands, and sets it on the dining room table. He’s in front of me in a second. “What happened? Are the kittens okay?”
I nod and try to force myself to stop crying. “They’re fine. This is something else.” More tears form and I hate myself for my lack of control.
“Are you hurt?” He studies me, searching for injuries.
“I’m okay. I mean, I’m not hurt like that.” I inhale and work harder to calm down.
“What’s wrong then?” He touches my arms, his expression torn.
“Social media is cruel.” I wiggle my phone.
Riley takes it from me. I’m too slow to react to stop him from seeing the post, not that he wouldn’t eventually. They’re all over, I’m sure.
He reads the posts and his features twist with anger. “Fucking assholes. How dare they? You are not pregnant. You don’t look it, either. You’re a fucking goddess. This is bullshit. I’m going to stop it.”
He stomps to his bedroom.
Itty-bitty rubs against my leg, like she knows I’m sad. I pick her up and kiss her head. “Thanks, girl. I love you, too.”
The other kittens are cuddled together, sleeping on the blankets where Riley slept last night. I take Itty-bitty into Riley’s room. “You can’t stop this, Riley.”
He sits at his desk and types on his laptop. “Like hell I can’t.” He hits Send with a loud click. “There. Give it some time and they’ll be wiped from the internet.”
I stroll toward him. “What’d you do?”
“I know a guy who’s a genius with social media. He monitors stories for me or about me. He can take care of this. Well, he can’t stop them from posting but he can have them wiped from the internet—most of them.” He stands and pulls me to him, like it’s natural. He kisses the top of my head while Itty-bitty squirms between us. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”
I melt in his warm, strong arms and want to put Itty-bitty on the floor, but I also don’t want to move from his embrace. More tears form, and I break down. Itty-bitty meows and wriggles for me to let her go.
“Here.” Riley takes her, sets her down, and wraps me in his arms again.
Our bodies meld together and it’s the best feeling.
I’m soaking his shirt with my tears, but I can’t bring myself to care. My past boyfriends never even comforted me this way. They’d cop a feel or make a dirty joke.
Riley is simply holding me, giving me what I need. Compassion and support.
I don’t know how long we stand like that for, only that it seems like a long while.
I lift my head to look at him. “Thank you. I’m sorry I soaked your shirt.”
He brushes my hair from my face. “It’s fine. How are you feeling?”