I whispered. My fingers shook as I wrapped them around the banister and I almost turned around halfway up the flight of stairs. You’re doing whatever it takes to make sure you sleep at night. I’d had another nightmare, one where Edward and I had been getting ready to say our vows and Flynn had come strolling in, passing out a little something for the guests. He’d made hundreds and hundreds of copies of the pictures. His palm prints, vivid red, on my breasts. I had to see him and make sure he wasn’t going to tell Edward. Wasn't going to show him... That was why I was here. That was the only reason. Just as I went to open the door, it flew open and a woman came tearing outside. “You are a piece of shit, McCreary. You hear me? You’re slime. Your only value is behind that camera!” Flynn appeared in the doorway, a rumpled t-shirt over an equally rumpled pair of jeans. He was about ready to fire something off at her—I could tell by the way he’d been opening his mouth—but when he saw me, he stopped.
