stuck in my nose again.
“Taryn. How you doing hun?” Some lady spoke loudly at me. “Can you wake up for me?”
I looked at her with one eye. Who the hell are you and why are you shouting in my ear?
“Hey there! Time to wake up! We’re going to take you back to your room now. You’re going to be just fine.” She smiled at me.
I was still groggy when they brought me back to my room. I saw Mike and another man perched on chairs outside my door. They stood up when
the nurses stopped my gurney.
I could see Ryan sitting in a chair in my room; his face was in his hands until he heard the commotion in the hallway. When I saw him up close, I
noticed his eyes were red and puffy. I could tell he’d been crying. Sitting across the room from him was the hospital chaplain.
The doctor explained that the impact caused my placenta to separate from my uterus and that the baby didn’t make it. The doctor had to remove
it all from my body, but he assured us that I’d still be able to have children.
The chaplain tried to give us words of comfort, using soft tones and encouraging us to believe in God’s will. He said a prayer for the innocent life
that left us today. Although I appreciated his efforts, I thanked him and asked him politely to give Ryan and me some privacy.
Ryan set his face on my chest and gently wrapped my bruised body in a hug; I draped my good arm up around him. I felt his tears as they
soaked into my gown. We both sobbed uncontrollably, breaking down from the agony of our loss.
“There you go!” Marie gently smiled at me as she finished wrapping a long scarf around my neck and face. “No one will see your puffy lip now.”
“Are there a lot out there?” I motioned with my chin towards the window.
“A few,” Ryan muttered, helping me with my coat. “Don’t worry about them. They won’t see you leave. Are you sure about this? I mean I’ll charter
a private plane…”
“No, Ryan. Please? I want to go home. I just want to get out of this hospital and sleep in my own bed.”
“But Marla said that…” Ryan continued.
“I don’t care what your Publicist said,” I raised my voice slightly. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to hide somewhere. Maybe it would have been
better if that damn car would have killed me, or better yet, Angelica running me over. That would be a better story for the media.”
Ryan scowled at me. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”
“Marie, please tell the nurse I’m ready to leave and get me out of here… please?” I pleaded.
I was rolled via wheelchair to the loading docks where food and supplies get delivered to the hospital, all for the sake of avoiding the reporters
and photographers who were hovering around the main entrance to the hospital. I was so glad to slide onto the leather back seat of the sedan and
finally be on my way home; it made enduring the pain of getting my bruised body in the car worth it.
A crowd of reporters, photographers, and onlookers blocked the alleyway behind my pub. Our driver had to honk his horn to get people to move
out of the way. My blood was starting to boil with anger and frustration. All of this attention for what - to take more photographs of Ryan cheating on
his rekindled love, Lauren, with “the nobody” from Rhode Island?
And to top off my glorious day, there was Kyle, standing dutifully by my door with other security men to hold back the throng of photographers.
He took his sunglasses off and shoved them into his pocket when my car came to a stop.
Our stalker, Angelica, was still on the loose and yet there Kyle stood – willing to risk his own life to save mine.
His face was pained and I could tell just by the way he looked at me and held his arms out to his sides that he was telling me “I told you so.”
See this? All of this scrutiny… all of this incomprehensible, unwanted attention? More pictures to post with their web of lies? Haven’t you had
enough yet, Taryn?
Kyle’s expression quickly changed when he glanced at Ryan. His contempt for Ryan was obvious and the eye daggers that flew between the
two men were mutual. I didn’t know who hated whom more, but their hatred for each other was palpable.
“Come on Honey, I got you.” Ryan held my hand and elbow, helping me out of the car. It was difficult to stand up. My knee was very bruised and
stiff and the pain from my ribs shot down into my hips.
“Ow!” I winced.
“I won’t let go,” Ryan muttered. He helped me take a step. “Do you want me to carry you?” he whispered.
“No,” I groaned and shuffled a few steps. I didn’t want the photographers to capture that he had to carry me and give them more reason to
create new lies.
Kyle pushed past Mike and got right into Ryan’s face. “Are you happy, Christensen? Now that one of your fans almost killed her?”
Mike quickly turned and intervened, blocking Kyle in the chest with his hands. “Hey, back off! Cool it, Kyle!”
“When is enough enough Taryn?” Kyle cried out. Mike and another guard scuffled with Kyle, pulling him back.
Ryan turned to deal with Kyle; the anger on Ryan’s face was evident.
“Ryan?” I breathed out from the pain, diverting his attention back to me. “Honey, just get me inside, please. Please?”
I wanted Ryan to stay focused and ignore Kyle’s accusations. Having Ryan miserable and brooding would be no help to anyone, especially me. I
clutched Ryan’s arm with my hand and leaned into his chest as he carefully led me to the door.
Ryan was only able to stay with me four more hours before he had to catch a flight and return to the set in Florida. He couldn’t hold up production
any longer; this film was a multi-million dollar investment just to shoot. He had already been away for three days.
It felt like another whole section of my heart was torn away when he left. It didn’t matter that he called me every few hours.
Ryan’s mom insisted on taking care of me for a few days and Marie was in and out of the apartment twenty times a day as well. I was wondering
when they both would get sick of watching me cry. My doctor finally prescribed antidepressants to help me cope.
Everyone in our inner circle knew that I had lost a baby. It only took three days after my discharge from the hospital for the rest of the world to be
informed of the same. The media had a field day when the news broke. Speculation of my pregnancy stemmed from the fact that my room was in
the neo-natal wing of the hospital, but then was confirmed by some hospital informants who wished to remain anonymous. Those informants
conveniently included the fact that I had lost the baby I was carrying…Ryan Christensen’s illegitimate child.
Ryan’s Publicist released a statement that stated I was hit by a car while crossing the street and that no one was at fault for the accident. Every
branch of the media also ended that same story with a blurb that his reps neither confirm nor deny the pregnancy rumors.
Marla even made a special phone call to remind me to keep my mouth shut. Well, she didn’t exactly say those words but that was the message
she delivered. I was tempted to tell her where she could shove her “public image management.”
My employees were also given gag orders and were reminded not to speak publicly to anyone about anything.
It was soon after that when Ryan and I had our first major fight over the phone, and his mom was sitting in the same room with me when it
happened.
“What the hell did you say to Marla?” Ryan barked in my ear. “She informed me that she will no longer be speaking directly to you.”
“Marla can go to Hell,” I replied. “She’s worthless in my book.”
“Taryn! She’s my Publicist! I’ve had her for years now.”
I huffed. “Ryan! She’s so damn worried that I might speak to anyone about my accident but yet she keeps allowing all those rumors about you