The next morning, Alistair sat at his kitchen counter, staring at his phone as it buzzed incessantly. His manager, Carter, had been calling non-stop since early dawn, presumably about the paparazzi circus from the day before.
“Great, just great,” Alistair muttered as Sam babbled from her carrier on the floor. He picked up the call with a sigh. “Carter, good morning to you too.”
“Morning?!” Carter’s voice barked through the speaker. “You’ve managed to set the internet ablaze overnight, Alistair! ‘Secret girlfriend and love child’ is trending right now. What in the world happened?”
Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not what it looks like, okay? It’s not my kid, and Riley isn’t my girlfriend.”
“Oh, I know that, but the public doesn’t,” Carter said, his tone laced with urgency
