Escaping Reality

answered.
    Sitting up, I scan the room that has oddly begun to feel like home,
    but today it is an empty shell and I have nothing to fill it with. It scares me
    how wrong I feel without Liam. How quickly I have become used to waking
    up to him. My phone beeps with a text and I quickly click on it.
    This is why I didn’t want you here. There is a link and I click on it. The
    headline reads, Billionaire’s father arrested on DUI . The subtitle though is
    the worst part. Mother of two almost bleeds to death while young daughter
    watches . I read the details of what has been reported and my gut knots at
    the horrific article that all but calls it Liam’s fault for not controlling his
    father. I dial his number. He doesn’t answer. I text him. Please call me.
    Walking into courthouse is the reply I receive.
    He doesn’t want to talk to me. I feel it. He needed me last night and
    he feels like I wasn’t there for him. Maybe I have a little too much of my
    pops in me for both our good. My confident, talented man isn’t as confident
    as I thought. Somehow the vulnerability in him makes him more human,
    more special. But he doesn’t think so. He thinks of himself as damaged
    goods.
    My hand settles on my belly and I hate the certainty that if I am
    pregnant I’ll have to leave Liam. He is too high profile, too newsworthy, and
    my child and I would therefore be in the spotlight, where we would become
    bigger targets than I already am. I see why Alex hated the press. Liam is
    media fodder whether he wants to be or not. I don’t want to leave him. I
    don’t want to run anymore. That means I cannot sit back and hope I am not
    found. I can’t go on trying to find answers in a scared and non-committed
    way.
    Decision made to act and quickly, I throw off the blanket, rush
    through a shower, and then dress in jeans, a tank top, and Keds. I leave the
    hotel on a mission for answers, and make my now daily stop by the bank,
    where I disappointedly find nothing has changed. There is not more money
    in my account. The discovery serves as reinforcement for what I have to do
    next. If Liam were to suddenly be out of my life, I have to be able to survive
    and not end up dead.
    I swing by the cell phone store, where I buy several disposable
    phones. A few blocks later, I stop at Evernight to find another “out to
    lunch” sign. I call Meg and she actually answers.
    “Please tell me you’re okay. I tried to call you this morning. I was
    worried after that man of yours acted like an oaf.”
    “I didn’t see the call.” In fact, I’m quite certain there wasn’t one, so
    this lie bothers me.
    “I’m fine. Liam had a family emergency and he overreacted to Jared
    because of it.”
    “Oh no. I hope everything is okay?”
    I think better of telling her he’s out of town. “It’s under control. I’ve
    been trying to connect with you on the properties I was given to inspect. I
    really don’t think I have the right list.
    If I email you the list, can you confirm if I do or don’t?”
    “Sure. Of course.” She gives me her direct email address. “You want
    to try happy hour again?”
    No. “I’m tied up for the next few days. Maybe mid-week. I’ll email
    you the list today.”
    “Yes. Okay.” She sounds awkward, but who wouldn’t after what she
    witnessed last night?
    “You might want to call Jared. He was worried about you.”
    “I don’t even have his number.”
    “I’ll text it to you.”
    “Thanks.” No thanks is more like it.
    We end the call and she indeed sends me Jared’s number by text,
    which I delete. I have no intention of letting Jared know my cell number,
    and hopefully Meg won’t give it to him. As it is, the mystery
    blocked-number call has me uneasy.
    I grab a few groceries that will allow me to keep my slim budget in
    check and hole up in the hotel room for a few days, intending to do nothing
    but research. I set up a workstation on the dining room table and then dial
    Liam. He doesn’t answer. I text him. No reply. I try not to think the worst,
    like he’s shutting me out intentionally, or that I’m still here in his rented
    room, out of some obligation he feels to protect me. It’s not hard to believe
    that could be true, with the news piece blaming him for his father’s sins.
    Guilt, no matter how unwarranted, has to be his enemy right now.
    Settling into a chair at the dining room table, I prepare a notepad and
    have my computer on and ready. My first priority is to send Meg