Picture Perfect

the night of the first show on the tour next month.
    After that, I curled up in my bed and spent the next four hours struggling to get myself to sleep. I missed being in Flynn’s arms, missed the feeling of security that I felt when I was with him. Eventually I fell asleep, but it wasn’t restful.
    The days after I got home blended together, one after another, without another word from Flynn. I tried to look on the bright side as I steeled my resolve and did what I had to do to move on. For those few days in LA with him, I’d lived the dream. That was something, right?
    I channeled my sadness, and later my anger, into fortifying myself for the tour. It would be uncomfortable to see him day in and day out for four months, but I needed to stay level headed and professional so that my career didn’t suffer. There was no other alternative.
    Once again, I’d learned the hard way that my taste in men was ridiculously bad. I’d started to let down my walls with Flynn, had secretly begun to believe in the fairytale. The way I felt now was a solid reminder that shit like that didn’t exist.
    Flynn had talked a good game, but his actions spoke louder than his words. He had the attention span of a toddler and once I was out of sight, I was also out of mind. He’d clearly moved on to the next girl, and I bet this one put out without any weird sexual issues getting in the way.
    On the sixth day of my post fairytale existence, Flynn got around to texting me.
    Flynn: Hi sweetness. I’m missing you terribly, wishing you were here or I was there.
    I didn’t text him back. He sent three more texts over the next four hours.
    Flynn: I miss you. Call me when you get this.
    Flynn: You really need to keep your phone on you babe. Text me.
    Flynn: Tess, where are you? I miss you like crazy.
    I didn’t know what he expected me to say or how he thought I was going to proceed. He’d completely ignored me for days, and I wasn’t up for pretending that didn’t hurt. I was trying to decide what to do when Jess burst through my door with her iPad in hand.
    “Holy shit Tess, did you see TMZ today?”
    I hadn’t but that wasn’t a surprise. I was struggling to remember to check my email, much less having the wherewithal to surf the web for gossip.
    Waving her iPad in front of me, she gestured to the screen. The pain I felt when Flynn didn’t text was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to how I felt when I saw the picture that was on the screen. In the photo, Flynn was standing at an outdoor café with his father, his grandparents, some tall blonde guy and a beautiful blonde haired girl. Everyone was laughing and Flynn had his hand on the girl’s stomach. He was beaming into the girls face, and it was clear that he was thrilled. The headline above the photo read: RENEGADE DAD!
    Holy. Fucking. Shit.
    Flynn was having a baby.
    I’m not sure how I got Jess out of my room, but I managed to do it without raising her ‘something is wrong’ alarm. That was surprising considering that something was really, really wrong.
    As I sat there trying to process everything, I heard my text alert.
    Flynn: I really need to talk to you Tess. I have news I want to share.
    I was furious and disgusted. Why had he gotten involved with me at all if he already had a girlfriend? What was his family playing at that night at dinner? They’d acted like they were so happy to meet me, but the photo on TMZ very clearly showed that they genuinely loved the girl that Flynn had gotten pregnant. Gram was getting her wish for a great-grandchild, and it tore my heart in two.
    Grabbing the phone, I sent him a quick text back in the hopes that it would shut him down.
    Me: I’m too busy to talk. I heard your news, no need to let me down easy. It’s no big deal. Congrats on your baby! See you when the tour starts.
    After that, I turned my phone off and then I called my cell phone carrier and had my phone number changed entirely. I didn’t want to hear from Flynn anymore, ever. I’d work the tour and then I’d forget he existed.
    I spent the rest of the night pretending to read a book, and as soon as it was an acceptable time to go to bed, I bid Jess goodnight and went to sleep. I was too depressed to stay awake and pretend that I wasn’t depressed that I’d fallen for Flynn’s bullshit.
    By the next morning, I was starting to feel like I could breathe without feeling like there was a razor blade in my throat. Jess and I were in the kitchen drinking coffee when