ADA

The next day, I'm in full hibernation mode. We're talking no shower, messy bun, and Ben & Jerry's. I never imagined myself turning into a rom-com cliché after getting dumped by a guy. But considering I also had all my hopes for the future shattered, I think a marathon mope session is called for.

"You look beautiful," Mom gushes when I finally emerge from my bedroom and sit down at the table to eat dinner. I glance down at the sweat pants I'm wearing with one of Elodie's old t-shirts that says, 'First I Do The Coffee Then I Do The Things.'

"Yeah, you're really rocking that Walking Dead look." Aiden takes a bite of the quinoa crust pizza Mom made. Wrinkling his nose, he sets it back on his plate.

"Enough." My dad points at Aiden. "Sweetheart," he leans forward, taking my hand, "we're worried about you. Between your job and that boy," Liam has officially gone back to being 'that boy' again, "we want to make sure you're alright. It's understandable to be upset when these things happen, but you can't let it consume you."

My family knows only the bare minimum about what happened with my internship and with Liam. They've seen the picture with my credit all over it and know I quit because it was sold without my permission. But I haven't told them I've given up on my dream of being a paparazzo altogether...or that my heart is in approximately a million pieces.

They've been giving me space, but I can tell it's killing my parents not to grill me for me information. I'm tempted to go through the effort of putting on jeans, so I can escape the concerned glances they keep throwing my way. If there wasn't a mob of paparazzi waiting outside my building, I might.

It didn't take long for the media to catch on to the fact that my name was on the photograph of Liam and his dad. They put two and two together, but as usual, got all the details wrong. On top of the stories about Liam that are absolutely everywhere, there are now articles about me working with his dad to expose his secrets. It's all ridiculous sensationalism. I just hope Liam doesn't believe them. Not that he's ever going to talk to me again.

Mom reaches for my other hand, giving it a squeeze. She's smiling at me, but her brows are knit in concern.

My parent's worry is equal parts annoying and endearing. I sigh, leaning back in my chair. "I'll be fine, you guys. I just need a minute to process everything."

"We get it, Honey." Mom runs a hand over my hair. "We've been there before."

I quirk an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, not there." She gestures toward the front of the building where the photographers are waiting to pounce the second I walk outside. "But we've been through breakups before too."

"Gross," Aiden says. "No one wants to hear about your dating life while they're eating." He crams a gluten-free breadstick into his mouth.

Mom rolls her eyes. "Just make sure you're trying to bounce back," she says to me. "And let us know if you want to talk about anything. We're always here."

"I didn't realize I ordered my dinner with a side of cheese," I say, but a grin tugs at my mouth. I'm lucky to have parents who care. Parents who'd never do what Liam's dad did.

My heart gives a painful twist. I grab my glass of water, washing down the tears, which are constantly on the brink of spilling over.

"So what are you going to do now for, like, work and stuff?" Aiden asks. Both my parents look over at me.

"I still need to figure that out." I reach for my star necklace, twisting the charm between my fingers.

Dad notices and frowns. "Baby Girl, I know my mother put a lot of pressure on you to make this whole paparazzo dream the two of you had come true. But I'm realizing now that might not have been good for you, and I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "It's wasn't your fault. It wasn't Grams's fault either. Becoming a photog is what I wanted."

"I know." Dad rubs a hand through his hair. "And that's why your mom and I went along with it. But I worry you've been so focused on that goal, you didn't give yourself space to find out what other dreams you might have."

Any argument I might've had dies on my lips because he's right. I was so determined that being a paparazzo was my dream job, I didn't let myself consider other possibilities.

"My mother was always vocal about her regret over not pursuing her dreams when she was young," Dad continues. "And I think she put the burden of that regret on you. I shouldn't have let her do that."

I try to respond, but I can't. The tears feel closer than ever. If I start crying now, I'm scared I'll never stop.

"Chasing dreams is a good thing," Mom adds. "We want both of you to be able to do that, but you need to chase the dreams that are right for you. You had a special relationship with your grandmother. I know the two of you bonded over the whole celebrity thing. But honey, if you don't want to be a photographer, that's okay."

"Ada," my dad says, "do you really want to be a paparazzo?"

I look up at him, shaking my head. I can barely make out his features through the water flooding in my eyes. Admitting it to them makes the pain feel fresh and raw.

"Sweetie, that's fine." Mom hugs me, kissing the top of my head, which is my ultimate undoing. The tears start flowing down my cheeks. "You have all the time in the world to figure out what you want to do with your life. There's no rush. You find the thing that sets your soul on fire, and then pursue it with all your heart."

A watery laugh escapes me. "I'm pretty sure I've seen that on a motivational poster somewhere before."

"Well, they're very wise words." She sits back down but keeps one hand on my shoulder.

"And maybe while you're figuring out whatever this soul fire thing is," Dad says, "you could take some general classes at the university."

"Dad," I groan.

"Hey, I'm just saying."

The intercom buzzes, and Dad gets up to answer it. His voice rumbles from the hallway. I can't quite hear what he's saying, but I hope it wasn't one of the paps who buzzed. They've been getting creative in their attempts to get me to come out there.

"Elodie's on her way up." Dad walks back into the room. "She said she brought wallowing supplies. Whatever that means."

"Don't worry about it." Mom smiles at him as I hop up to get the door.

Elodie's already waiting on the landing when I swing it open. "I've got coffee." She holds up a to-go cup. "I've got chocolate. And I've got all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls on DVD." She grabs a handful of candy bars and movies out of her bag. "Which one do you want first?"

"Definitely the coffee."

I take the drink from her hand, and she follows me into the living room, perching on the edge of the couch.

She twists her hands together in her lap. "I brought something else too."

"Tell me you have a bucket of Ben & Jerry's in that bag of yours because I ate all ours this afternoon."

"Not exactly." She pulls out a copy of StarTracker. "I didn't know if I should bring it or not, but I thought you'd want to see it."

My heart bottoms out as she turns it around so I can see the cover. Liam's face is plastered across it.

I'm about to ask her to put it away. I'm not ready to think about gossip magazines, and I'm for sure not ready to look at photographs of Liam. But then I see the headline.

Liam Anders Tells All About His Tragic Past and the Father Who's Been Blackmailing Him

I take the magazine from Elodie, my fingers flipping automatically to the centerfold, where I know the story will be. I start reading.

It's obvious Liam really did give them this interview because it's all in here, every detail he shared with me about his dad and all the lies that chipped away at his reputation.

Liam is so fiercely protective of his past, I can only imagine how hard it was for him to tell a reporter this story. My eyes well up again, and I brush the back of my hand across them.

"Have you talked to him?" Elodie asks.

"He doesn't want to talk to me." I close the magazine, setting it on the couch between us. My fingers linger over Liam's face.

"Did you try?"

"Els, I can't. You should've heard him when that story broke. I hurt him so badly. There's no recovering from that."

Elodie looks down at the picture of Liam. "A, I'm not saying what you did wasn't bad. But I saw the two of you together. I know he cares about you. And if this is true," she taps a finger against the magazine, "it seems like Liam deserves to have someone fight for him."

I stare at the photograph. I'd been so fixated on how I didn't feel like I deserved another chance, I didn't stop to think about what Liam deserves. Elodie's right. I don't expect him to forgive me, but I owe it to him—to both of us—to at least try.

If he can be brave enough to share his story with the entire world, then I need to be brave enough to apologize. And I think I know a way to get him to listen.

"Els, I've got an idea," I say. "But I'm going to need help."

A huge grin breaks across her face. "What do you need me to do?"

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