Ghosted

“Good girl,” he said. “Just keep smiling.”

Jonathan leaned over, kissing her cheek, as a chorus of oohs and ahhs surrounded them. She’d stolen the spotlight the moment they exited the limo, capturing everybody’s attention, this beautiful little girl with stars in her eyes.

Click. Click. Click.

They continued to walk along the carpet, posing, before the handlers steered them toward the media outlets. Interviews. This was the part of it that he hated most—being forced to answer questions, some of them uncomfortable.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the man you’ve been waiting for, the star of the night—Johnny Cunning!” The petite blonde reporter smiled dazzlingly as he stepped up on the circular platform to join her for a live stream. “How are you doing tonight, Johnny?”

“Wonderful,” he said. “Happy to be here.”

“Well, I must say—you look truly amazing,” the reporter declared. “You have a glow about you, and, my word, might it have something to do with this precious little girl with you?”

“Without a doubt,” he said. “I’m the luckiest man in the world tonight.”

Questions. So many questions.

He answered everything he could.

“Now before you go, you know we have to ask,” the reporter says. “It was announced this morning that the Breezeo comics were being re-launched. Any chance we’ll see you slip back into the suit for another movie?”

He smiled. “Right now, I’m just trying to enjoy my family, but I’m certainly not going to rule anything out.”

Over and over, the questions flowed—some personal, but most not. He moved from reporter to reporter, a dozen of them total.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jonathan looked down as Madison tapped his leg to get his attention after they’d cleared the media section. Next, he would sign autographs for the fans, and then they’d head inside the theater to watch Ghosted. “Daddy, look, it’s Maryanne.”

He turned, looking the direction his daughter was facing, seeing Serena Markson posing with her date—Hollywood’s new ‘it’ guy, Gerard Jackson. Clifford Caldwell lurked near them, watching. Jonathan had officially severed ties with the man a few weeks earlier, the moment his contract gave him an opening, and he’d signed with someone else—someone who understood that his family took priority.

Jonathan turned away, signing those autographs, chatting and letting them snap a few quick photos, before leading Madison along the carpet to the theater entrance.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Madison’s dress shoes clattered along the marble floor as they approached a group gathered in the lobby, the sound announcing their arrival. His team of people, all of them new—new management, new PR, even a new lawyer. He kept his agent, and he still had Jack, but everything else required a clean slate. Too much had been tainted by Clifford Caldwell.

The man had once tried to taint the woman he loved, too. Jonathan learned that while reading a long-ago story scribbled in an old spiral notebook. He read every word, no matter how painful. Everything he hadn’t known... he knew it all now.

Kennedy stood amongst the group, wearing a simple black dress. The diamond on her left ring finger shimmered under the theater lights as she absently tinkered with it.

She was nervous... too nervous to walk the red carpet.

It made her sick to the stomach when she thought about it.

Jonathan had sold his mansion in LA and built a house in Bennett Landing, down the road from the Landing Inn, making them McKleski’s neighbors. He’d proposed on a whim, although he’d had the ring for a while, and to his surprise, she’d said yes without even needing to think about it. He worried for a moment that they might be moving too fast, but he realized it didn’t matter.

He’d lost too much time as it was.

He wasn’t going to waste another second.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Kennedy asked when he slid into the crowd beside her. People steadily streamed into the theater. They needed to find their seats soon.

“Of course,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her to him, holding up his free hand to tell his new manager to wait when the man nearly interrupted them. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, smiling, a glow on her flushed cheeks. And before she could even open her mouth again, before she could say the words, he already knew, but it still didn’t fail to shock him to the core when she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

J.M. Darhower's books