“It’s almost over now.” Connor comforted him.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
The clink of their glasses, toasting to the end of me, set me in motion. I regained the ability to move and tiptoed over to the bedroom again, closing the door without discovery. I walked back to the bed, climbed back in under the covers and shut my eyes. Maybe I could pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened? Like it had just been a bad dream.
But then I opened my eyes and still I knew, I’d heard it. I’d heard every word. There couldn’t be any misunderstanding here. He actually had been standing in the kitchen having a heart-to-heart with his oldest, closest friend about how he really felt.
So now I knew. Ash was happy that this farce with me was almost over. And it really was almost over. The clock was ticking. According to the original agreement, I was supposed to break up with him after a month. It would be exactly four weeks on Saturday. Today it was Monday. No, sorry, Tuesday very early in the morning. So we really just had a handful of days left. And he felt relieved and grateful that he had so little time left with the ball and chain.
I felt like I’d gotten kicked right in the gut, all the wind knocked out of me. It was almost hard to breathe, but I focused on that, just that, closing my eyes and telling myself everything was going to be OK. This was the worst of it, right now. This was the bottom, scraping down so low you wondered how you’d ever swing back up again.
It hurt so bad. I’d felt so close with Ash, as if we’d stripped everything away there in that cabin, just the two of us. It had felt so real, as if I’d gotten to know the real man behind all the stardom and celebrity. Hadn’t I just told him that last night? But, come to think of it, it was me telling him. He hadn’t said the same to me. Or confirmed he felt the same way.
The past few weeks had been like a fantasy, and I guessed that was just what they were. That was all they were ever supposed to be. I’d signed a contract agreeing to it. I guessed that was why we should have stuck to the no-sex clause. If we hadn’t gotten in so deep together, I probably wouldn’t feel like vomiting right now. If I hadn’t given myself to him so completely, I might not feel like I’d just had my insides scooped out with a melon-baller.
I’d never fallen for anyone the way I had for Ash. I’d tumbled head-over-heels in that mad, raving way you read about. I’d lost my mind and heart. When he touched me, I felt it though my whole body. And it wasn’t real. As many times as I’d tried to remind myself of that fact, it had gotten away from me. I’d tried to keep my guard up, protect myself, remember he was a player and we lived in separate worlds. But I’d failed. I’d fallen for him completely, and now I felt myself falling and falling further and further down with that sickening, lurching feeling low in my stomach.
He wouldn’t be there to catch me. Worse still, he might come in here in the bedroom and act like nothing was wrong. He might climb into bed, pull me into his arms and try to make love to me. Oh God, I still had to share a whole car ride back to S.F. with him. How was I going to do that?
At least I hadn’t told him I loved him. I’d realized it, but I’d kept it locked in my heart. Where it would stay, and hopefully dissipate over time. Because even though I’d heard him talking shit about me, I couldn’t rouse myself into hating him. That would have been easier. It would have been a lot easier to just flip the switch and feel angry over having been tricked and betrayed.
But lying there in the dark, I just felt awful. Tears spilled out of the corners of my eyes, though I tried to stop them, snuffling under the covers. The last thing I wanted was to be there in the dark, pathetic and crying, should Ash walk right through the door. I needed to pull my shit together. I needed to erect a facade, somehow adopt a poker face, and play this out for a little while longer.
I didn’t think I’d make it until Saturday, though. I’d have to end things sooner than that.
I bet Ash would feel grateful to me for it, too. And I bet Lola wouldn’t have any problem with it. I’d already served my purpose. I’d given them tons of juicy photo ops, from corny romantic rom-com shots to X-rated, forbidden moments nearly captured on film. Titillating and suggestive, they’d really gotten their money’s worth from me in Paris.
The world had already seen Ash propose to me. He’d done it up on a freaking stage, televised on a giant screen. How had I gone and let myself believe any of it?
Well. I was an idiot. But the idiot had woken up.
It was a good thing I’d awakened and overheard Ash and Connor. They’d done me a real favor. Had I not heard them, I almost definitely would have made things much worse—for Ash and for me. In a long car ride to S.F., I probably would have started babbling about how I’d never felt that way before and I really, truly loved him. The silence after dropping that bomb would have pretty much killed me.
No, it was better this way. This silence was at least all my own. I didn’t have to add a whole bunch of humiliation into the mix. A broken heart was enough.
Somehow, I had to make it back to S.F. Once we were there, I’d find a way to end it exactly the way our contract demanded. I’d find a horribly public spot to do it. I was sure Lola would help arrange the necessary cameras in place to capture the moment. I’d break up with Ash and fling that outrageously large rock he’d given me right in his handsome face. He’d pretend to be broken-hearted.
Then I’d fly back to New York and begin the process of tending to my own truly broken heart. The thought of it all nearly drove me into sobs, but I told myself to wait on those. There’d be plenty of time to sob into my pillow, night after night without Ash to sob to my heart’s content.
Right now, though, I had to deal. I’d never been a good actress, but I just had to get through the next day or so and then I’d be able to go back to life as it had been before I met Ash. I just wished the thought didn’t rip me to pieces.
CHAPTER 9
Ash
Hungover as hell, I woke with a groan the next day. Around noon, I had to guess, with the way the sunlight shone in full and brash, burning my eyelids. Someone had pulled apart the curtains in the bedroom. Was it Ana?
I reached for her in the bed but found nothing but tangled sheets. Where was she?
Groaning, I threw my hand over my eyes. What the fuck? I hadn’t felt this way in a while. A month, to be exact. I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I’d gone that long without parting to the max. I also couldn’t remember why it was exactly that I used to do this stupid shit to myself all the time. Ugh. I felt like I’d swallowed a mouthful of ashes from the fireplace.
Padding to the bathroom, I managed to get myself some water. How had I ended up getting so shitfaced? Bits and pieces from last night flashed dimly through my slow-moving brain. Ana with a large plate of pasta. Some girl’s boobs. Connor swinging off the chandelier.
Connor. We’d had a good talk last night, hadn’t we? But something felt off. Something still needed sorting out.
But first I needed water and some Advil. Lots of Advil. Like a truckload.
Staggering into the main room of the cabin, I found various other members of our crew draped across furniture like discarded items of clothes after a striptease. One of the girls sat on the floor, her legs stretched out across the wooden planks, her back resting against the couch. Johnny lay strewn across the couch, his sunglasses firmly in place.
“Ugh.” He groaned over to me.
“Hmg.” I groaned back. More water and a palmful of Advils later, I shuffled back into the main room searching for Ana. She hadn’t been partying with us last night, so surely she was already up. Just as I was about to ask anyone if they’d seen her, the door burst open letting in a sharp, cold blast of wind and, worse, blinding sunlight glinting painfully off of the endless snow outside.
Like vampires scalded by the light, we all put up our hands and shrank away. All Ana needed was a Holy Bible and a cross and we would have looked like the set of an epic monster movie.
“Oh, go
od! You’re up!” she cried out in an unnaturally loud voice. I cringed and she saw it. “Sorry,” she faltered, and thank God closed the damn door. Quieter, she added, looking at me. “We have enough gas in the car to get us to the nearest gas station. I don’t mind driving. If you want, we could—”
“S’all right, sweetheart,” Connor’s slurred brogue wafted up from behind a chair. I saw his feet sticking out. Apparently he was lying on the floor behind it. “Marvin’s flying us back at three.”
“Cool.” I nodded, grateful he’d made the arrangements. A flight would take an hour where driving would take four or five, and even sitting in a car seemed like too much effort to make at this point.
“Marvin?” Ana asked me, sounding unsettled and unsure.
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved away her misgivings. “He’s a good guy.”
She shook her head, as if that hadn’t been what she’d been worried about, but honestly, I needed to lie down again. Collapsing on a sofa, I did just that.
“So, we’re not driving?” Ana stood tapping her toe in the middle of her room. I swear, that toe tap echoed in my brain. I winced.
“C’mere, luv,” Connor called out from the floor. “Come relax with your buddy Connor.”
She spun off in a huff. I should go after her, I recognized that, but the gulf between what my brain told me to do and what my body could execute yawned wide.
“Gimme minute,” I murmured, slipping off again into sleep.
I woke with someone kicking my foot and yelling, “Pack it up! Ten minutes!”