Baby Be Mine

now. ‘You could have your own rooms, you’d have your own life, but I’d get to see him every day. He would know me.’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
    ‘I’m not.’ He shakes his head fervently.
    ‘What about my parents? They haven’t exactly enjoyed reading about you in the papers, recently.’
    ‘Yeah, but surely they still want what’s best for Barney.’
    ‘You think this is what’s best for Barney?’
    ‘Yes. I do, actually. He’s my son. I’m his dad. He should be with me.’
    I take a gulp of air. ‘What about Dana?’
    ‘What about her?’
    ‘Don’t you think you should talk to her about this?’
    ‘How do you know I haven’t?’
    ‘Have you?’
    Pause. ‘No.’
    I look at him sadly. ‘I can’t, Johnny.’
    He takes my hands and stares into my eyes, pleading with me. ‘Yes, you can.’
    I detach my hands. ‘No, I can’t, Johnny. I can’t go back there again.’
    ‘It wouldn’t be the same as before,’ he tries to reason with me.
    ‘How do you know? It might be even worse, with you two getting off your heads on drugs . . . I can’t put Barney into a situation like that.’
    ‘I won’t relapse again. I promise you.’
    ‘I thought addicts weren’t supposed to make promises like that.’
    He shakes his head. ‘How did you get to be so smart?’
    ‘I’m not smart. Just one look at my crazy, fucked-up life should tell you that.’
    ‘Language . . .’
    We smile at each other sadly.
    ‘You’re not fucked-up, Meg. It’s time to move on. You’ve got a son, an amazing son. I’ve got an amazing son. I don’t want to be a peripheral part of his life – I want to mean something to him. I want him to call me “Dad”. I want the world to know he’s mine. Not yet,’ he says hurriedly. ‘We need space first without the press harassing us.’
    I shake my head and look away. ‘No. Just you saying that reminds me of how it is.’ I still remember being hounded by the paparazzi one time when I drove Johnny’s Porsche and they thought I was him. ‘I don’t want that for Barney,’ I add.
    ‘You don’t have a choice. The press are going to find out about him sometime, whether you like it or not,’ he states. ‘At least in LA you’d both have protection; you know my security guys are some of the best in the business. Wouldn’t it be better for Barney to grow up with this life from the start, so he doesn’t know any different? Wouldn’t that be better than him getting thrown in at the deep end when he’s older?’
    ‘Like me?’ I say with a wry smile.
    He mirrors my expression. ‘Think about it. Please, Meg.’ I notice he’s not calling me Nutmeg. He must be serious. ‘Just think about it.’

 
  Chapter 27  
    ‘It is so good to see you again, Miss Stiles.’
    I smile ahead at the driver, who’s grinning back at me in his rear-view mirror. ‘It’s good to see you too, Davey.’
    ‘I don’t know, I just had a feeling about you, that something was different. I see now that I was right!’ he exclaims, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at Barney, who is strapped into a brand-new and very smart car seat.
    I shrug, embarrassed. ‘What can I say?’
    He chuckles with amusement and shakes his head. I peer out of my window at the skinny-as-a-beanpole palm trees towering overhead. The sun beats down from a hazy blue sky. I’m thankful for the air-conditioning in the limo. Even in October, LA is warm and muggy.
    Did I just say LA? That’s where we are: the City of Angels. My head is still spinning about the fact that I agreed to Johnny’s crazy suggestion.
    My parents weren’t too pleased about it. It took only a few hours of being back in Grasse with them for me to make up my mind, and once that was done, there was no turning back. They’ve accepted it now. But they did make me promise I would tell Susan and Tony the real reason behind Johnny’s visit back in August. I still haven’t got around to it.
    Davey drives through the gates into Bel Air, past Elvis’s old house and countless other mansions belonging to the rich and famous. We climb upwards into the hills – the journey taking longer than I remember from when I used to live here – and then we reach some imposing wooden gates, equipped with intimidating security cameras. Davey speaks into the intercom and the gates slowly open, then it’s along a winding driveway until, finally, there’s a break in the trees and there, in front of us, is Johnny’s house.
    I stare out at the modern,