There was another car waiting for her at the airport to take her home.

When she arrived Christian and Ed were both sitting in the living room waiting for her.

“Nice to see you’re home,” Ed said, but his voice had an angry quiver to it.

“I’m home. Now where is Warner?”

“Moved out,” Christian said from the couch, his back to her.

“Moved out?” She came around the couch and looked down at her brother. “He moved out and you didn’t stop him?”

Christian stood and looked her in the eye. “You think I’d let him just walk out on you? He has valid reason. What the hell were you doing on that tour with that man?”

Now Ed was out of his chair too and they were both towering over her and looking down on her.

“I didn’t do anything.” She skirted around them and headed to the kitchen. She’d contemplated a glass of water, then a beer, oh hell—was there whisky? Deciding against everything she turned to her brothers. “I saw the pictures. I didn’t sleep with the guy. I didn’t kiss him. I didn’t do anything. You have to believe me.”

“No one has to believe you, Clara,” Ed crossed his arms over his chest. “No one does believe you.”

“Including Warner,” her voice dropped.

She fell into a chair at the table and rested her face in her hands.

Christian sat down across from her. “What did you do?”

She looked up at him with tears now blurring her vision. “I didn’t do anything. Patricia Little came after me telling me all this stuff about Warner and I broke down. He was comforting me.”

Ed pulled out another chair, turned it backward, and sat down with his arms rested on the high back. “Someone set you up. Why tell you that and then stick around? I mean someone had to know you were going to seek comfort. They might have even known he’d give it to you.”

“That’s all it was. He was hugging me while I was sobbing, but funny you can’t see that in those damn pictures.”

There was a knock on the door and then it opened. Zach walked in with a stack of papers in his hand.

“Okay. I have my lawyers on this already.”

The tears came harder now. “What are they going to do?”

“They’re going to try and get those pictures taken down and we’re going to find out who posted them. Next they are making amends with Trent and his wife. They too will want to fight this.”

“Uncle Zach, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He nodded. “I know. You’d never do that to the man you love. Who, by the way, is sleeping on the couch in my office.” He threw her a set of keys. “Red one is parking garage. Round one is the elevator to my office. Don’t lose them and be careful down there alone.”

Clara jumped up from her seat and hugged and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Warner was in awe of Zach’s office. He’d never even lived in a place as nice as this. The Murphy bed had been pulled down. The flat screen TV rose out of the cabinet. Before he’d headed out, Zach had Chinese food ordered up and had his assistant fill the mini-fridge with water bottles.

Through the other door there was a full bathroom where he could even shower.

Warner shook his head. Everyone’s life was so different.

He sat down on the couch and began to surf through the channels with the remote. Somewhere between an old episode of Full House and Guy Fieri he realized what the night in the office meant.

He couldn’t just walk out on Clara no matter what she had done. He was part of a family now and families worked things out together.

Hadn’t Christian tried to stop him? He’d made the call to Arianna who had called Randy who then had found him at the studio. Then it was Regan who met him there and drove him to Zach’s office where Zach set him up.

Warner rubbed his stubbled chin. That was what a family did for each other—and they’d done it for him.

No one asked why. No one needed details. They had just stepped up.

Did they think he was a victim to Clara’s infidelity? But did he really think that himself?

Warner turned when he heard the noise behind him coming from the elevator which Zach had left through. He must have come back for something.

Warner stood to greet his guest and he couldn’t have been more surprised when Clara stepped out.

His first instinct was to run to her, scoop her up in his arms, and kiss her senseless. But he stopped just steps from her, tucked his hands into his pockets, and just looked at her.

She was still dressed in the outfit she’d performed in. Her stage make up had all been cried off, obviously.

“Hello, Warner.”

“Clara.”

She bit down on her trembling lip. “I missed you.”

This was judgment time. He was going to sound like an ass, but he was still hurting so he figured it was justified. “Missed me enough to forget about me for a few hours.”

She took a step forward and then stopped. “I didn’t do anything. Warner, you gotta believe I didn’t do anything to jeopardize our marriage or Trent’s.”

“Then what was that all about?”

Clara took one final step toward him until they were toe to toe. She looked up at him with weary eyes. “Warner, was Mindy pregnant when she died?”

Warner felt his body deflate as if he wasn’t already empty enough.

She reached out and touched his chest. “Was she?”

“Patty got to you. She actually got to you.”

“She cornered me at the concert the other night. She said you killed her Mindy by getting her into drugs and dragging her out to Vegas.”

“She was already into drugs and I didn’t ask her to go to Vegas.”

“I know that. You know that. Patricia has a different story in her head.” Clara sighed. “But was there a baby?”

Warner turned from her and ran his fingers through his hair. “There was a baby. That’s what kept her in Vegas.” He turned back to his crying wife. “But the baby wasn’t mine. I may have been young and not smart about too many things, but I was smart about that. No matter what she’d ever tell me I made sure I was covered if I was sleeping with her. Not so much to keep her from getting pregnant, but I didn’t want anything she might have.” He winced. “You know what I mean?”