‘I’ll feel better arriving made up.’ I shrug and take Cal’s hand.
In the privacy of my room he takes control, stripping me of my clothing piece by piece and then laying me down on his bed. I keep my gaze fixed on his oh so familiar piercing blue eyes. The sensations he’s stirring as he tenderly strokes me are doing a very good job of distracting me, particularly when his hands skim my breasts and between my legs.
‘Remember what I said.’ Cal nuzzles my neck and nips at my earlobe. ‘You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.’
His fingers are inside me now and warmth spreads through me, not just from the sexual contact but another kind of warmth to do with not feeling so alone any more, to do with feeling loved. Whether he says the L word or not really shouldn’t matter given Cal shows me love on a daily basis.
I’ve felt alone for so long, in spite of Poppy’s kindness, that the emotion almost overwhelms me. It is so very lovely to know that someone properly sees me, likes what they see and wants to be there for me. Cal’s touch is tender, gentle and sensuous.
‘You’re lovely, JoJo, and you’re not disgraced. Promise me you’ll remember that today.’ He props himself up and his intense gaze rakes me as though searching for any lingering doubts to be captured and dealt with.
‘Okay, I promise,’ I say obediently, half automatically but as the words leave my lips it strikes me that I really do believe him now, finally. It’s taken some time but eventually I got there.
There’s a peaceful, contented joy radiating through my body as Cal makes love to me, also a sense of being whole again, of being wholly myself at long last. The joy isn’t Cal completing me but Cal helping me to find the missing part of myself. Cal waking me up to remember who I am, to wake from my stupor, step out of the shadows and live again. Because one thing he’s taught me is that living isn’t just about breathing, just about surviving from day to day, but about embracing life fully and being fully alive. Otherwise what’s the point?
It’s definitely time to stop hiding.
And if I’m seeing Aiden again it’s not going to hurt that I’ve got a post-orgasmic glow to my cheeks. I might be ready to move on but I’m also happy to show Aiden what he’s missing.
Thankfully the combination of the tan I’ve acquired living in the South of France for the past year and the post-sex glow means I don’t actually need too much make-up to feel confident I’m looking my best. My hair is blonder and what with running, yoga and the outdoor lifestyle I’m in better shape than ever. The shortish plum-coloured summer dress, one I would never have dared wear before Cal, shows all this off to best advantage. I’m glad now that Poppy persuaded me into a shopping trip with Michelle.
‘You look amazing.’ Cal grins, putting his arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck. ‘Are you ready to show the world you’re not hiding any more and there’s absolutely no reason in the world why you should be?’
‘Yes, let’s go.’ I nod. I think that was a rhetorical question. Cal seems quite fond of them. It’s just one of the quirks that I love about him, like his interest in science and his zest for life in general. There are no half measures with him. ‘I want to get this over with.’
My stomach muscles clench and its sparse contents feel like they’re on a washing machine spin cycle. I’m glad I’ve not had much to eat now. I feel sick at the thought of being filmed. Cal has persuaded me it’s for the best, that I need to show the world at large that the image they have of me and the labels they’ve assigned me are wrong. Not because the opinions of faceless strangers actually matter but because it matters to me that the world sees there’s more to me than my assigned storyline. I have to show them who I really am, that I’m more than those stories they printed. To show the world my story didn’t end in tears and scandal; that was just a black moment, only one part of the story, and one I’ve overcome.
This isn’t just about Aiden and Sally. I’ve been hurt by many more people than just the two of them. The others who hurt me are, for the most part, nameless and faceless. They don’t know me, they just think they do. Some of them are trolls but not all; some are just mostly decent people who enjoyed the show and the drama that continued off screen. When they commented on social media and the show’s fan website they forgot I was a girl just like them, with real feelings and a heart that could be broken. The majority of them would never have said the things to me face to face that they were happy to type from the anonymity of their own homes. They didn’t have to look me in the eye and see my pain or see the impact on my family.
They never knew me.
They never knew the facts.
Yet they considered themselves entitled to sit in judgement over me.
Cal is right, I know. This way I get to write my own storyline, to change the outcome from tragedy to triumph, a tribute to girl power everywhere.
I want to do this for all those other women and girls whose stories I read online, who were filmed without their consent or filmed and photographed with consent on the assumption it would remain private. I’m doing this in memory of those who tragically took their lives and for those who are still living with it and feeling alone and ashamed. I want them to know that they aren’t alone. Strength in numbers maybe?
The seeds of ideas he planted in my subconscious have definitely taken root and are flourishing.
The thought that I’m doing this for those other women, the ones who never got to fight back, gives me the strength I need. It stiffens my spine and makes me eager to go tell Aiden just what sort of worm he really is. Ahem, I mean take the moral high ground and look poised and elegant, of course. Any name-calling must be in my head only.
‘Thanks, Cal.’ I squeeze his hand and turn and look into his piercing blue eyes. I swear I see his belief in me, see his … love. Yes, I am looking into his soul and what I see sends a frisson of pure pleasure travelling through my body like a wave.
It hasn’t always been comfortable, this fierce connection between us. He stripped me bare emotionally and saw straight through my defences. Most of all he made me face the truth. Where would I be if he hadn’t woken me up? Hadn’t made me face everything I ran from?
I really don’t know if I believe in fate, but I know I needed him and he came. This isn’t me being delusional. This is human interaction at its most raw and sexual love at its most powerfully vulnerable. I know what I get from our relationship but I’m still not sure what I do for him. Have I shown him a taste of what life could be outside of the celebrity world? Or is it that he likes fixing people and once I’m fixed he’ll move on?
Maybe he just loves me for me, loves the depth of our connection.
Maybe.
‘You’re welcome.’ He squeezes my hand back, his firm grip reassuring me.
My phone beeps with a text from Annabel.
Go and give them Hell JoJo. I suppose a bitch slap is out of the question? I would soooo love to see that :-)
I laugh and text my reply:
Definitely out of the question, however tempting it might be. Moral high ground remember? I’m going for cool, calm and collected! xx
A reply pings back almost instantly;
Good luck with that ;-) A xx
P.S. A bitch slap would be much more fun!
The drive to the Château is a tense one. Normally I’d be captivated by the endless fields of sunflowers and pretty villages, but I can’t stop fidgeting. Thankfully Cal is driving.
‘So they definitely are expecting me to arrive with you?’ I ask him as we get close.
‘For the third time, yes, they are definitely expecting us both. It’s fine, JoJo. It’s all going to be fine.’
‘Sorry.’ My fingers are knotted together in my lap and he reaches out and puts a hand on top of them, lightly squeezing.
‘Take a deep breath or five.’
I take his advice and do more yoga square breathing, feeling a little better afterwards.
‘Just remember to breathe when you’re there,’ he reminds me.
>
‘Good advice. Breathe.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Got any more?’
He ignores the snark in my tone and answers seriously. ‘Yes, keep the moral high ground. No matter how much they try to provoke you or get you off of whatever script you’ve decided you want to keep to today.’
‘So they really think I’ve come to play nice and make up, because I want another fifteen minutes of fame?’
‘That’s pretty much the gist. They were definitely happy you were coming today.’
‘I don’t know how they believe that so readily. Do they not know me at all?’
‘I think they can’t compute the idea of somebody not wanting to be famous. After all it’s the business they’re in, the business of being famous. Being famous for what, though, I don’t know. Isn’t Aiden famous for being a dick?’
‘At least you are famous for your cooking,’ I say. ‘You have an actual skill, that’s completely different from the kind of thing you’re talking about.’
‘I thought I was famous for my dazzling good looks and my Irish charm.’ Cal flashes me a grin.
‘Get over yourself.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Well, okay, maybe a bit.’
Cal snorts with laughter.
‘So, are you looking forward to today?’ I deliberately change the subject.
‘To teaching blonde bimbos how to cook?’ He pulls a face. ‘Can’t wait.’
‘Hey, enough with the blonde-bashing.’
‘I don’t mean you, obviously.’
‘Hmm.’ I stare out of the window and get a glimpse of the Château Sex in the Suburbs have rented for the next week.
My stomach churns and I try to ignore it; instead I run through the strategy I prepared with Poppy in my head. I need to remember that I have done nothing wrong. If anyone has anything to be ashamed of it’s them.
The Château is elegantly traditional with lots of turrets and, unlike Château St Quentin, has been renovated to an incredible degree to make it into a chic boutique hotel. I think I prefer the aged feel of Château St Quentin; it feels more honest, more authentic somehow. This place is just a bit too perfect, too showy. Maybe a bit like a Disney princess castle. I’m sure that Sally feels quite at home. I try to rein in my inner bitch. I hate the fact they’re practically on my doorstep. I’ll only properly relax when they are all safely back in the UK again.
I’ve done nothing wrong. No more shame. I repeat the mantra in my mind and keep up the yoga breathing unobtrusively. So, I can look both Sally and Aiden in the eye and thank them for setting me free to discover true friendship with Poppy and true love with Cal. Though … I’m still not sure exactly how I’m going to express that last part. I do love Cal but saying it today, in public, might place unfair pressure on him to reciprocate before he’s ready to. Maybe I can phrase it differently.
There’s a decidedly weird atmosphere when we arrive. There is much fawning over Cal, but they don’t seem to know what to make of me. The behaviour of the crew and cast towards me is tinged with embarrassment mixed with curiosity. There’s no sign of Aiden or Sally yet.
I get the feeling they hoped I would look like a broken woman. I’m not in the least bit sorry to disappoint them.
My initial plan was to try to do this privately but Aiden and Sally had no interest in an off-camera meeting, for all their professed desire to move on from the past and sit down to talk to me so we can sort things out. No, instead they want to leverage some drama out of it, as I expected.
I did consider turning up incognito as Cal’s assistant or PA or something and confronting them, but only for about five minutes. I realise I might be edited to look like a deranged stalker trying to get close to Aiden again – or at least I’m sure that’s how they would want to portray me.
To arrive as Cal’s girlfriend and out in the open felt like the best approach. Poppy helped convince me the best way to handle this is to behave as though Aiden and Sally are insignificant to me. The line is that obviously I was hurt but I’ve moved on and isn’t my new boyfriend Cal fantastic by the way …? That kind of thing.
I haven’t really discussed that part of my plan with Cal. It’s been so hectic the past few days, what with the hen weekend, wedding guests turning up and all the wedding prep. Yet Cal seems to sense his role in the proceedings and is demonstratively affectionate, his hand resting proprietorially on me, on my elbow, the small of my back, holding my hand at every opportunity he gets.
I had wondered if Cal had told his agent our relationship was off limits because he doesn’t want to be too closely associated with me or be tainted by my sordid scandal. Yet here he is demonstratively proving he’s happy to be seen with me.
As soon as I set eyes on Aiden and Sally, I can tell they are miffed to see me looking great and coupled up with Cal. I think Sally was planning to play a seemingly sympathetic but overtly superior role in the proceedings and she seems a little thrown by my demeanour. Aiden seems shorter than I remember. After so long of them both looming so large in my thoughts, they are surprisingly insignificant in the flesh.
‘I’m so pleased to see you finally moving on,’ Sally says, once I’ve been forced to endure the charade of air-kissing her.
I ignore the ‘finally’ barb in her sentence. I also can’t help noticing that Aiden doesn’t look at all happy that I have moved on. From the way he’s running his eyes over me and the dark looks he is shooting at Cal it’s kind of obvious.
‘Oh, I’ve been enjoying my new life in France for quite a while now,’ I say breezily. ‘It’s been great meeting new people. I’ve got some really fantastic friends here and of course a lovely new boyfriend.’
I finally meet Aiden’s eye properly.
I’ve wondered so many times how I would feel, finally meeting Aiden again, but I feel … nothing at all. His gaze travelling over my body is having zero effect on me. The rose-tinted filter I used to apply to him is well and truly switched off from my worldview finder. All I see is a handsome but petulant man, in love with himself and pissed off because I’m not pining for him.
Aiden is nothing next to Cal, he is a boy compared to a man. I don’t even fancy him any more, as though my body sees itself as belonging to Cal, my body chemistry remaining loyal to him.
Sure, sex with Aiden was nice and he knew what he was doing but … somehow I was always worrying about pleasing him, afraid I was so far out of his league that I had to make up the deficit by being extra good in bed. An awful lot of people, I don’t even want to know how many, have watched the video of me going down on Aiden but there is no footage of him going down on me.
Because he never did.
Cal, however, is always super concerned about my pleasure. He isn’t at all selfish in bed.
He isn’t Aiden.
And that means I’m not repeating history. It’s taken seeing the two of them together today for me to finally get it. The close proximity has given me a much-needed perspective: what I had with Aiden is nothing like what I have with Cal.
And that is such a relief.
‘I know it’s been so hard for Aiden, the whole sex-tape business,’ Sally says.
For a minute I am speechless, the moral high ground approach is forgotten, to be replaced with a bizarre moment of mental what-the-fuckery.
‘Hard for him?’ I ask, wondering what alternative reality I’ve wandered into. I try to catch Aiden’s eye, but he won’t meet my gaze. ‘But Sally, it was Aiden who … Sorry, you did say hard for him, right?’
‘Of course.’ Sally stares at me like I’m the one who is mad. ‘He had his privacy invaded just as much as you did. Didn’t you, babe?’
I just stare. The silence opening up between Aiden and me morphs into a palpable tension in the air.
‘Sure, he admits he shouldn’t have shot the video without telling you,’ Sally carries on, blithely regardless of the atmosphere.
Surely no one can be this oblivious? Then I remember how easily I bent my version of reality to fit my love story with Aiden. I simply ignored any uncom
fortable truths and silenced any nagging niggles. I didn’t listen to my intuition and I suffered for it. Sally is doing the same thing. I almost feel sorry for her.
Almost.
‘He meant it to be a nice surprise for you, didn’t you, Aiden darling?’ his appointed spokeswoman asks.
‘Did you really, Aiden?’ I ask, my voice strained. My cheek muscles ache from the effort of smiling.
‘Yes,’ Aiden mutters, clears his throat and then falls silent again, all the while looking down as though fascinated by something on the ground.
That is clearly all I’m getting. So, this is it. The rewriting of history. The Aiden and JoJo story retold to not make Aiden look like a total shit. Except Aiden appears to have forgotten his lies.
‘It was just dreadful that hackers stole the clip and leaked it on the internet. We were both so upset to see you looking so … dreadful. I mean dreadfully sad.’ Sally reaches over to clasp Aiden’s hand proprietorially.
There’s a slightly manic quality to her expression, as though she alone has remembered the lines to the play and she is having to perform it all single-handedly because all the other actors have frozen and forgotten their lines.
There are no words. I simply don’t care. Let her flounder.
I’m having my say, I’m sticking to my own narrative and then I’m walking out.
‘Well, it’s all worked out okay in the end, so, you know, no worries.’ I smile, actually enjoying myself. I thought I would have to fake it, but I am genuinely amused by the bafflement in Sally eyes. I’m not playing by her script. From now on I’m not playing by anyone’s script except my own.
‘No worries?’ She blinks, her false eyelashes making her look like she’s being attacked by spiders. Surely I’m allowed to be a teensy bit bitchy today of all days?
I shrug. It’s time for me to take control of this.
‘If it hadn’t happened the way it did, I never would’ve moved to France. I wouldn’t have got together with Callum. I wouldn’t have found a really great man and I guess I’ve got you both to thank for that. So, you know, I suppose I should say thanks.’ I smile and even manage to keep my tone sarcasm-free. I had to practise that bit with Poppy. ‘I’m doing great now so it’s all worked out. Everyone is happy, right?’
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