Her voice sounded strangled. “You might as well, Noah.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You’re dead to me now.”
Icy tendrils of dread clawed at his spine. He’d never heard her say anything so cold, not to him, not to anybody. Words flooded from his mouth—he was afraid to stop talking. He pleaded with her, told her again and again that he loved her, that he’d made a mistake, that he didn’t know how or why it had happened, but that he’d do anything to go back in time and erase it. He described everything he remembered about the night before. He told her how he’d asked off work, how he’d planned to go home early to surprise her. He talked more to be near her than to convince her at this point—he could tell she wasn’t even listening anymore. He was terrified to leave, terrified she’d never let him back in this space they shared.
He tried to meet her eyes, but she wouldn’t look at him. He felt her slipping further and further away, and he thought his heart would literally break—his chest felt like a lead weight compressed it. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze.
“You’re my whole world, Lia,” he whispered, his voice raw.
She winced, her lips trembling and her beautiful hazel eyes shrouded with grief. She shook him off, closing her eyes and tilting her head away from his.
“Just go,” she said.
He knew he’d lost her.
* * *
Wrenching himself back to the present, he couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks again. Misery and self-derision melded his thoughts into an incoherent blur. He felt ridiculous—like half a man—for crying in the darkness over a relationship that had ended nearly eight years ago.
He couldn’t believe his night with Erin had brought this out in him.
The overwhelming sense of loss he’d experienced in the months after their breakup crashed down on him, and he knew now why he’d shied away from women, from dating, from anything that might come close to love. The pain he was experiencing tonight was the result of getting too close to someone. He’d kept all women at a distance out of self-preservation.
He saw now how unrealistic that was.
Amelia was gone. She’d been gone a long time.
It was time to move on.
And he was terrified. After all these years, he didn’t know how to be the man again that he’d been with Amelia. The mistake he’d made with Ashley had stolen more than his fiancée, his future. It had stolen his belief in his ability to love.
Through the years, he’d tried not to dwell on the void Amelia’s loss had created in his life. When he could function again, he worked to fill the empty spaces her absence had left in his time, his thoughts, his plans for his future. He finished his degree, built his portfolio, advanced his career. When thoughts of his loss threatened to overwhelm him, he worked that much harder.
The unexplained misery that had smothered him since he’d left Erin at her door tonight began to take a new shape. He’d never realized that instead of pushing toward his goals, he’d been running away from them. He felt a new rush of sadness at the thought of what he’d been missing all these years by retreating within himself.
Suddenly he wanted everything he’d thought he’d have with Amelia: the love, the marriage, the house, the kids. He wanted what his parents had, what he’d grown up surrounded by.
He thought about Erin.
He didn’t know if she was who he was looking for, but she’d unearthed something within him that had long been buried.
He closed his eyes. Behind his lids, Erin’s wide, green eyes replaced the beloved hazel pair that had tortured him enough for one night. As the first dim rays of sunlight sneaked around the edges of his bedroom windows, he finally fell into an exhausted slumber.
CHAPTER NINE
Start the Insanity
Amelia, June
The timidity that plagued her as a youth swelled up inside Amelia, silent but fierce. She stood stock still, her stomach churning with a mix of nervousness and disbelief as she stared at the muted TV screen in her hotel suite.
It was the third time she’d seen the news flit by in the past hour. Even though it only added to her anxiety, she couldn’t bring herself to change the channel. The camera panned once more across the mob scene outside the Manhattan bookstore, and she swiped at the prickly layer of perspiration on the back of her neck.
Lines of people—no, swarms of people—were waiting for her book. She found it hard to believe, but the proof was right there in front of her. In about an hour, she would be in the middle of that crowd.
Gnawing at the tip of one previously flawless fingernail, she glanced down at the flyer she’d tossed onto the coffee table. It was a promotion piece about the signing that included her picture beside an excerpt from the book. Her eyes skimmed to these words:
Nick grabbed Liana by the shoulder, almost roughly, but she shook him off. “No!” she spit out. “Leave me alone, Nick. You’re going to have to do this without me now.”
“Won’t you at least hear me out?”
She spun to face him, her eyes narrowed into thin slits. Her “somebody’s about to die” look, Nick liked to joke. In happier times it was actually funny. “There is nothing to hear. Nothing you could say will fix this. Nothing.” She turned her back on him again. “You’re dead to me now. Just get out.” When he didn’t leave she said it louder, pointed to the door. “Get out. I mean it. Leave me the hell alone…”
A sharp knock at the door startled her, causing the flyer to slip from her fingers. She eyed her wrecked manicure in dismay as she crossed the suite. Her taupe leather heels echoed loudly in the marble entry as she opened the door for Nina Esposito, her publicist.
Nina’s incessant, sparkling chatter trailed her into the room. She glanced at Amelia, gave her a quick once over, winked.
“Sure, Thomas. That’ll be fine. No worries…she’ll be there.” Her eyes widened. “You’re over-thinking this. It’s fine though. That’s what you’re paid to do.”
She laughed, a breezy, airy sound. “Uh-huh. I just got here, she’s ready, we’re leaving now. Ha-ha. Sure. Thanks again.”
Nina lowered the phone, turned her attention on Amelia. “The woman of the hour,” she said, eyebrows raised. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m all right.”
The flutters in her stomach begged to differ. Nina studied her with narrowed eyes and then gave her a sympathetic smile as she dialed another number.
“You’ll do fine—don’t worry! More than fine. You’ll be great.”
Nina’s attention was diverted again as whoever was on the receiving end of the call picked up. She turned on her heel, paced over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Midtown Manhattan, and moved seamlessly back into breathless chatter.
Amelia’s eyes followed Nina’s constant motion as she put all her energy into not freaking out. Calm down. Focus. You’ve done this…it’s not so different.
She’d had plenty of practice with situations like these.
Well, situations sort of like these.
Well, hell, not really a lot like these. Usually she was in Nina’s role—directing the limelight, not standing in it.
On the cusp of the launch of her third novel—set to be released around the country at midnight tonight—she was staggered by the amount of buzz the book was generating. A medley of phrases from advance reviews flitted through her thoughts. “Stunning follow-up.” “Extraordinary storyteller.” “Breathtaking.” “Best one yet.”
She drew in a sharp breath. Were they really talking about her?
Yes, and so were the others. The ones with the less flattering comments, the ones she had to force herself not to think about. You’d better get used to this, Mel. She had to develop a thicker skin—or at least try to avoid reading what people were writing about her. Ever since news of the movie, now steamrolling toward production, had come out, everything had amplified: fan mail, hate mail, media coverage, pressure.
/> Pressure.
Some days she thought her head might explode from all the pressure.
And all of this because she’d sat down and pushed out the words that had been jumbled up inside her head. In her wildest dreams, she hadn’t imagined her writing would lead to any of this—she’d simply seen it as a more appealing option than therapy. Sure, as she’d made progress on the book she’d wondered if her writing might be good enough to be published. But this? The press coverage, the reviews, the fans, the movie? It was like some messed up mind trip. A crazy dream.
She pinched herself.
Hard.
“Ow.” She rubbed at the spot that had already blushed from white to pink on her bicep.
“I saw that.”
She glanced up to find Nina walking toward her, the hand clutching her phone spending a rare moment at her side.
“I know. It’s really something, huh?”
Amelia huffed. “Yeah. Something. That’s one way to put it.” She fidgeted under Nina’s appraising stare, turning to study the wall of windows. “I’m scared as hell, you know.”
“I know.”
She swung back to face Nina, not sure whether to feel better or worse. A scene from her childhood popped into her head. She’d been seven or eight, standing stock still beside Brooke as two stray dogs charged up to her on the sidewalk in front of their house. She was frozen, too scared to move or even scream.
“Don’t act scared. Never let them know you’re scared,” Brooke had said.
Never let them know you’re scared.
Amelia looked up at her publicist. “Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.” Her voice shook in a way she hated, and she willed herself to pull it together. “I just feel like, I don’t know, like so much is riding on tonight. There are so many people—”
She gestured dumbly to the TV screen, where commentators’ mouths were now moving in a heated debate. A banner across the bottom of the screen read, “Israeli/Palestinian peace process: Is a two-state solution possible?”
Nina’s eyes flicked toward the TV in confusion and then back to Amelia.
“You can handle this, Mel. I know you. Once you get in there, you’ll be absolutely fine.”
“If you say so.”
Her chest squeezed even tighter as she thought about the night in front of her. Her first stop was the restaurant on the ground floor of the hotel, where she was set to be interviewed by a writer from a national women’s magazine. After the interview, she’d be rushed to a press event at the bookstore on Broadway that CNN kept flashing past. Finally, she’d arrive at the launch party for the book, a massive event that was doubling as a benefit for a literacy nonprofit.
She wanted to be excited about tonight—and she was excited about parts of it. At the party, she’d sit with fans who’d won tickets to the launch through a blog contest, and she was happy about that. The part she wasn’t happy about was the attention. The reporters’ questions, the cameras trained on her. She knew how important it all was—PR had been her life for the past seven years—but she’d never realized how much more terrifying things were on this side of the microphone. She was forever scared of saying something stupid or being misquoted or taken out of context. And she couldn’t look at pictures of herself in newspapers or magazines without feeling mortified.
And without fearing he might see them.
And that, she knew, was what her insecurities came down to. She couldn’t let go, couldn’t enjoy her own success, because she felt like she’d told a giant lie that was becoming harder and harder to cover up. Ever since advance copies for this latest book had been sent out and interview requests had started coming in, she’d dreaded the questions she’d be asked. She was a terrible liar, but she couldn’t tell anybody the full truth. The story was fictional, yes, but there was a real-life version behind it, and that real-life version was all she could think about when she talked about it. This third book, especially, was hard to talk about. Its theme was betrayal, and even if she didn’t screw up and blab to the press about her inspiration, her inspiration could buy the books and read them himself. And he’d see himself in them, she knew he would.
He might have even seen the books on that newscast.
He might be reading them right now.
Stop it! There’s nothing you can do.
She was in too deep now to turn back. When she’d written the first book, she hadn’t worried about any of this because she hadn’t thought it would be published. Once it had been, book two had happened in such a whirlwind she hadn’t had time to stop and think about the implications. For that matter, she hadn’t realized there’d be implications—she’d never dreamed her books would find a cult following. That they’d become best sellers. That they’d get her name in Time, USA Today and The New York Times…and now on CNN.
By the time book three rolled around, she’d known. But what could she do about it then? Yell, “Stop the presses?” Yeah. Right. By then the books had gone viral. She was the “It Girl.”
No, she’d had to put her big girl panties on and deal. She’d finished the damn book and made it the best book she knew how to make. She’d reopened her old wounds and let the torture of losing Noah seep through her and onto the page. And now crowds of people were in lines around the country waiting for the results. Soon they’d be lighting up the Internet with their instantaneous verdicts.
Would they like it? Would they hate it?
Would they hate her?
She was almost dizzy with anxiety.
She stood frozen in place in the marble hall, feeling just like she had that day as a kid, staring at the dogs in terror as her mom tried to reassure her, to keep her safe. No one was here to protect her this time. She had to stand on her own two feet.
Realizing she was holding her breath, Amelia exhaled in a gush.
Nina chose that moment to finish one of her endless streams of calls and dash to Amelia’s side, pulling her from her insecure monologue and mercifully giving her something else to focus on.
“Ready? We’ve got to run.”
She tried to gulp, but her throat was too dry. “I guess it’s now or never.”
“Geez, Mel, seriously. Relax! Deep breaths.” Nina paused. “You’re going to a fabulous party with a roomful of people who adore you. Have fun with it. This is going to be a great night, and the book is fantastic.”
Amelia tried to smile. “You’re right. It’s not like anybody’s going to throw anything at me.”
“Wow, now there’s some unbridled enthusiasm.” Nina rolled her eyes and walked to the door. She swung it wide and held it there.
“Let’s go.”
Amelia sucked in a deep breath and followed her out the door of the suite into the great unknown.
* * *
It was more than seven hours later when she dropped, weary but wired, into the car that waited beneath the rear portico of the hotel where the launch party had taken place. She nestled back into the seat, inhaling its leathery scent, and closed her eyes. A jazz song wafted from the car’s speakers, and she focused on the mellow sound of the saxophone. Even though she knew she’d overreacted earlier, her body still felt limp with relief that the stress of the night was behind her.
The driver wound through a maze of side streets, and her mind traveled to the books that by now were flying off store shelves into the hands of readers. The thought was both humbling and terrifying.
She realized all at once how tired she was—how bone-weary exhausted—and she had to be “on” again in a few hours. Nina had scheduled her for two morning talk show appearances to promote the book.
She could barely think about that. Even after the night she’d just had, she felt strangely disengaged from Mel Henry, author, as if the pseudonym she’d picked really did turn her into a different person. She couldn’t reconcile the image of Mel Henry, whose words were spawning discussion among fans and critics, with Amelia Wright, the girl sitting in this cab.
She felt very
small.
And very alone.
As the car sped toward her too-extravagant hotel on East Fifty-Fifth, Amelia thought about Reese, who’d wanted to come along on this trip, but was stuck in Memphis buried under a pile of work. She was also busy planning a wedding—the big day was less than three months away.
She thought about Katie and Carrie and her other work friends. She missed the comfortable, comforting vibe that surrounded her old office and her everyday life. She knew, even with her stress and nerves and packed publicity schedule, she wouldn’t trade a second of this experience, but still, it was…overwhelming. Especially with nobody to share it with. These days it seemed like she was always surrounded by loads of people, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so lonely.
It was because of Noah, she thought. His presence loomed larger over her life now than it had in all the years since she’d lost him, and yet he had no idea of the influence he still had on her.
I wish I could tell him. I wish he was here.
A burning sensation pricked behind her eyelids, and she blinked hard and then rolled her eyes. Damn it. Where is this coming from? She’d fought back these memories for years, and nothing had changed. She’d found a place to channel her pent-up frustration, but that was all. Noah had still cheated on her. She was still alone.
But my life is great. Her mind growled the thought so fiercely that she wondered for a second if she’d said it out loud. She glanced up at the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, but he was looking straight ahead, ignoring her. She bit her lip and made a mental list of the things she had going for her. Reese, her friends, her house, her family, her books.
The excited faces in the crowd she’d just left.
The movie deal.
How can I not be happy? I have more than anybody should.
But melancholy had draped itself like a comfortable, old blanket across her shoulders, and all she could think about was what she didn’t have. What Noah had taken from her.
Now a Major Motion Picture Page 9