“Keep driving,” I say brokenly.
The driver listens, barely slowing to a crawl as he passes the small crowd gathered outside my garden gate.
What. The. Fuck.
People are here? Outside my house?
With shaking fingers, I pick up my phone again.
She lives in London??One comment reads.
Yeah, Clapham, next to The Old Crown pub.
Making the most of JH being over here.
There’s no way he’d move from LA just for some fat bitch.
What. The. Fuck.
Why would they even need my address? In what world does a story like this warrant people coming to myhouse?
My breath starts to come in shallowly as my vision blurs.
“Are you alright, love?” the driver asks.
I nod my head. Or at least I think I do. It could be that my neck has lost all support and it’s trying to remove itself from my spine.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I pick it up without thinking.
“Hello?” I say shakily.
“Rosie? Are you okay?” My best friend squeals in my ear, her familiar tone causing the tears to finally flow.
“Hey,” I say weakly. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Rose, oh my God. Okay, where are you?”
“I uh—I can’t go home, there’s people there. Annie, there’s people outside my house.”
Anya swears and I hear her voice muffled like she’s pulled the phone away from her face.
“I don’t…I don’t know what to do. What do I do?” I clench my fists to stop my fingers from shaking.
“Okay Rosie, listen to me, are you walking?”
“No, I’m in a taxi.”
“Alright babe, you’ll go straight to ours. Do you still have your key?”
“Uh,” I say, swallowing thickly. I’ve had the key to Anyaand Danny’s townhouse since they left before the wedding. Ostensibly it was to take care of the one plant Anya decided to keep, but it died before she ever left the country so I haven’t visited once. “Yeah, yeah I have it.”
“Okay, give the driver the address and head there.”
“Jackson–”
“He can meet you there.”
“He’s on set, he won’t even be back in the city until the weekend.”
