Rehearsal went well, so the play is going ahead as planned. For the most part, Seth’s more uncomfortable than in pain, and between Dev’s treatment and Jackie making sure he’s taken anti-inflammatories regularly, he’s moving much easier. She’d also ordered an ointment online from John Bell & Croyden for the bruising, so with that and his heavy stage make up, they’ll be nearly invisible.
His parents had come for dinner last night, and while I’d spoken to them a few times over the phone when we’d been dating, it was good to finally meet them in person. Seth had been openly affectionate with me in front of them, I’m assuming the implication being we were back together, and if we were, it was news to me. If they were surprised at all by their son’s behavior, they didn’t show it. That was until Seth had asked to speak to them privately for a few minutes and with worried looks on their faces, they’d all gone into the study. For two hours. Pissed, I’d given up waiting and went to bed. Tossing and turning, I’d barely slept. I’m also annoyed that when Seth had finally come to bed, cuddling into me like all was ok in the world, my exhausted mind seemed to agree with the asshole and I’d fallen asleep.
Because opening night is tonight, Seth had left for the theatre this morning before I woke and I’ve not seen him all day. Read: I’ve had time to let my annoyance simmer. But that’s got nothing on what I’m feeling right now.
I’ve left Jackie, holding my glass of bubbly as well as her own, standing next to a woman who’d introduced herself to us as Alistair’s wife. Both women are wide eyed as I storm away. I cannot believe what I’ve just heard, and the simmering annoyance I’ve kept at bay so as to not ruin his big night, has just boiled the fuck over.
Remembering the way from my tour on Thursday, I ignore everyone as I charge through the wings and down the corridor to the dressing rooms. Yanking open Seth’s door, I slam it behind me, not caring that he startles from the resonant bang.
“You quit the play! After everything, all of this, you up and quit! What the fuck, Seth? And I find out from Alistair’s wife? Jesus, I knew something was going on with you, why the hell wouldn’t you tell me? My God, what the fuck am I doing? Why am I even here, Seth? Why? Tell me!” I shout all of it at him, my body immobile with tension, the back of my throat thick with the tears I’m trying to hold at bay.
Standing in front of me, dressed in his too damn sexy costume of tight, distressed leather pants - that hang mouth-wateringly low on his lean hips - mid-calf motorcycle boots and no shirt, the look on his face is, inexplicably, compassionate. What? I ignore it.
“Piper, please, just hear me out, that wasn’t how I wanted you to find ou––” he starts, but I’m too charged to stop, and it all comes spewing out.
“No shit!” I scoff. “You were right you know, that day in front of my apartment door. I was scared. Scared to be with someone who lives their life in front of the media, but even then, it wasn’t just that…it scared me that I cared so much for you, even from the beginning. Even when you wore sunglasses inside,” I laugh to myself, even though I’m far from amused. “I didn’t like that you made me feel like you liked having arguments with me, just as much as I did with you. I didn’t like how your touch made me feel, or how when you were inside me, it felt like nothing I’d known before. It scared me that I was feeling something for you I didn’t think you felt for me. I was just waiting for my point to be proven, that I was just another thing to you. So when I saw the photos of you with Claudia, of course my knee jerk reaction was ah-ha! Like I had proof that you were exactly who I thought you were when we first met…that I hadn’t felt anything for you, that anyone could eventually make me feel like you did when we had sex, that I wasn’t really in love with you…but I was-I…I am.” I stop and swallow, getting myself together, wondering if any of that came out coherently, before I continued.
“I’m sorry I let you down back then, Seth. I knew in my heart the words you said were true when you tried to explain…but my head told me to get out while I still could, while some of myself wasn’t completely engulfed in you…” Stopping again, I inhale deeply and shake my head. “But none of it matters, not now. Being in love with you isn’t enough for me anymore, Seth. I want all of you, but I can’t, because I’m not the only one who is scared. You’re so damn scared to let me in, really, fully let me in that not only did you choose to quit the play, but also that you did it without telling me, you’re too selfish. We’re supposed to be in this together, and I can’t be with someone who doesn’t deem me important enough in their life to talk things over with. And, you still won’t tell me what happened the morning you crashed your damn car, can’t see why I’d want to know something like that?” I’m yelling again, and with all I’ve just rained down on him, I’m a little shocked that I bring up his accident. It’s such a small thing really, but for whatever reason, I just can’t let that go.
Seth swallows, his face has turned ashen underneath the pan-cake, and he looks like his world is imploding. Seeing him like that makes me want to take it all back, to comfort him, but I can’t. I won’t. Because I need him to give me something this time, I need him to… no. Enough.
I know I can’t hold back the hurt much longer, but I have to say the words. “We have to know this isn’t going to work, I just…I can’t feel like this…anymore. I’m going back to your house…to pack, I’m…checking into a hotel. I…I’ll get a flight home tomorrow. In the mean time I’ll have someone from ESM terminate…our…contract. If you care about me at all, sign it this time, Seth, please…” I can’t get any more words out, my vision is blurred from the tears streaming down my face, and the tightness in my chest is making it painful to breathe.
“Fuck, no, please, no. Don’t say that, don’t do this, Piper,” Seth pleads, walking toward me with small steps, as though afraid I’m going to bolt. Which is exactly what I need to do, because if he touches me…
Turning my back to him, I’ve got the door handle in my grip so tight my knuckles turn white.
Turn it, Piper, for fucks sake.
When he speaks, even though he’s not touching me, I can feel him and I know he’s close behind me.
“I was talking to you, Bubble. The morning of the accident, I was talking to you.” Seth’s voice is quiet, but it’s raw. And even though I know I never got a message from him, I still can’t bring myself to turn the lever.
“I missed you so fucking much, Piper, I could barely function. And the longer I was here, the longer I was away from you, the worse it got. Yeah, I tried the wanky shit Joan told me to do, the breathing, the meditation, the whole crock of bollocks. I even buried myself in this play, rehearsing, helping paint sets, anything - all to the point of exhaustion. But none of it mattered. I still hated being here. I hated being back in London, and all I wanted to do was talk to you. The morning of the accident, I was so focused on writing you a message that I wasn’t paying attention to the fucking road. And the scary part is, even though I know how incredibly stupid it was, and how fortunate it was I didn’t hurt anyone else, I wouldn’t change a single thing I did. Because not twenty four hours later, I looked over at my hospital room door, and I saw you.”
The tears run down my cheeks and drip from my chin, leaving two damp pools on the top of my cocktail dress as I listen to all he’s telling me. And unlike last time, I am listening.
Not ready to face him, I keep the hard steel against my palm, but I let my forehead drop against the back of the door and take in a shuddering breath.
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me about being distracted by writing me a message, Seth? I don’t understand the secrecy, why one message was so hard for you to share.”
I can hear Seth moving away, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. Before I can turn to see what he’s doing, he comes back, but this time he eliminates any distance and steps into me. Pressing his front to my back, I close my eyes at the feeling of him against me, his hot breath against the back of my neck, voice husky in my ear.
“Because it’s not just one mess
age, Piper. It’s sixty. Give or take.”
My heart fills, my body shaking as I let out a sob, and I try to process what he’s telling me. I feel his arms move, and I can hear him tapping the screen of his phone, as he continues. “Since leaving you, every day, sometimes twice a day, I talked to my girl. I talked to you.”
Seth kisses the back of my head so sweetly, leaving his lips against my hair, and I almost miss my clutch vibrating in my hand.
Before he even has to tell me, I know he’s sent the messages to me. Vibration after vibration, the messages come through.
“They’re yours, Piper, they always were. Read them whenever you want, but for now, all I ask is that you read the last three.”
My hands are shaking as I open my clutch, my fingers slipping against the clasp, so it takes me a second to get my phone. Dropping my still open clutch to the floor, I hear my lipstick and other shit spill out, but I don’t care. I turn against Seth’s frame, and he takes maybe half a step back. I glare at him, expecting him to back up and give me more room, but all he does is gently take my face in his hands. Holding me still, with his palms and fingers against my jaw and neck, he tilts up my face and runs his thumbs under my eyes, wiping the wetness of my drying tears from my cheeks. Kissing my mouth, he then steps back.
My fingers don’t feel like my own as I tap my message app, Seth’s name and the bolded font of an unread message sitting at the top of the list. Opening it up, I’m speechless at the number of them, and even though he’s asked me to only read the last three, my eyes cant help but skim the others as I scroll. Now I’m amused as much as I’m tearful, because only this man could yell at me in a text and yet still sign off with the letters symbolizing a kiss and a hug. And I can’t help but harass him a little about it.
“They’re called emoji’s, Seth. Join the modern age already. Even your Mom uses them,” I comment mockingly.
“Real men don’t emoji, Bubble. I’ve told you that,” he fires back with a smirk.
While I’ve been looking at him, I’d reached the end of the message thread, so taking a deep breath; I scroll back up to the last three messages.
Thursday:
I know you’re on to me.
You’re as smart as you are stubborn.
But I want to be sure of a few things before I tell you, ok?
Of course there’s one thing I’m already sure of, and that is you.
Always you.
XO
Friday:
Tonight you went to bed steaming.
I’m glad we don’t have a cat - you’d have probably kicked it.
Imagining it was my bollocks.
Telling Mum and Dad was only supposed to take twenty minutes, so I’m sorry for that.
Though I’m not sorry that when I came upstairs, you were in my bed.
Because whether you know it or not, I know with certainty, that even when you’re pissed at me, you’ll still love me, Bubble.
And I will never be sorry about knowing that.
XO
Saturday:
Quitting is a stupid word, because it means ending.
For me, it means beginning.
The beginning of the rest of my life.
With you.
I hope you’re ready for me, Piper Quinn.
Ready to challenge me.
Ready to push me.
Ready to grow old with me.
Ready to be cherished, everyday, by me.
I love you,
XO
Hurling myself forward, and jumping, he catches me. Wrapping my arms and legs around him, we’re a tangle of bodies as we kiss, my breaths shaky and my body wanting even closer as I cling to him.
His hands grip my ass cheeks and his lips consume my own as he frantically kisses me. I feel my body release, release the tension, the fear, replacing it with joy, and the love I have for this man.
“God, I love you,” I mumble into his lips and he smiles, pulling away to look over my face.
“I knew that,” he says cockily.
“Oh, fuck off,” I groan, leaning in to kiss him again.
“Nope, never,” he replies, kissing me back. “You’re stuck with me. Forever.”
“With the way you drive, that won’t be very long.” I comment sarcastically.
I yelp happily, giggling as Seth drops us both onto the sofa in his dressing room, planting my back against the cushions, his long body pressing against mine.
“Well, best we not waste any more bloody time then, love. Knickers off.”
EPLIOGUE
Seth
In the past three hundred and sixty five days, I need only two hands to count the number of times I’ve woken up without Piper beside me. If it’s meant shortening the time we’re apart by flying to wherever she’s gone for her work, even for a night or two, I’ve willingly made the effort. I don’t give a fat rats arse if it makes me sound like a ponce, the time we were separated was enough to last me a lifetime. Fuck you, very much.
Of course without it, everything else wouldn’t have happened. And everything else that has happened, with the exception of the fight we’d had opening night that still makes my bag shrivel in fear of how close I’d come to losing her, is pretty fucking cool.
I wouldn’t have realised that while acting might have been my dream once, though now even that’s debatable, it no longer was. I wouldn’t have realised that my unhappiness with celebrity wasn’t coming from the fact my privacy was constantly being invaded; it was that it was being invaded for the wrong reasons.
I definitely wouldn’t have realised that if Piper was my future, and she was, is, it meant I never wanted to put her in a position where she had to step in front of unscrupulous scavengers to shield me again.
And as I’d sat in the courtyard of that rented London house, the one Piper and Jackie still refer to as ‘The Museum’, I wouldn’t have realised that while I had wealth - more than most people dreamed of having – I gave so bloody little back. Not nearly enough.
But I’d known how I’d wanted to start.
And so I had.
I’d quit the play, but in fairness to those I loved and everyone at Westbrook Theatre Company – excluding Evelyn Westbrook, who’s lips I still wanted to glue shut - I’d honoured every performance date in my eight-week contract. Had Piper not arranged it with her boss to stay with me in London, working remotely and with a couple of U.K. based clients, I may have told Rash to get me the fuck out of it. In the end, I’m glad I did it though, because it only confirmed further that the gig wasn’t for me. Stage. Silver screen. Small screen. None of it.
Though my girl didn’t find out about my career shift in the way I’d planned, which was over a romantic dinner at 135 in a private capsule on the London Eye, in the end, she’d done exactly what I’d known she’d do. Yelled at me, kissed me, yelled at me some more, and then tried to organise my arse by bossing the hell out of me. And although I’d fought her on more than one of her ideas, I’d loved every moment. We’d still gone to dinner on The Eye, but I don’t remember us doing much dining.
I’m too old now to become a professional skater of course, so I’ll likely stay amateur until my body tells me to quit, but I fucking love being immersed in all things skateboarding. Not for the competitions, though I’d had a right bloody laugh at the last one I’d entered. Not for the titles or prize money, nevertheless having won the fucking thing.
But because of the connections I’ve made. Connections to like-minded people who want to help me create more free skate parks across L.A. even if their contributions are limited only to them sharing their time and skills. I’ve got the money stuff covered, but you can’t put a price on a professional skater giving up two hours on a Saturday just to hang with a group of kids and help them with their technique and shite.
Well you can, but thanks to their generosity, we don’t need too.
And not just theirs either. Since word got out about what I was doing – in a very civilised interview and a local i
nterest news story, naturally, Piper’s idea - offers of sponsorships have steadily come my way. From board makers, to clothing labels things are really starting to gain momentum.
On top of opening one other brand new park, we’ve significantly overhauled six others. With a contract between my company and the suburbs that initially built them - again, Piper’s idea but negotiated by Rash - these parks have become places that kids of all ages can be active. Somewhere they can freely express themselves in a world where more and more activity is being limited to the use of an Xbox controller. It’s not utopia, we’ve had our fair share of fuck ups and disasters, but we’re doing something that matters.
I say we because while Jackie still works for me, she’s more my assistant now I guess. At first she was nervous, thinking herself completely unqualified for the task, which was shite. Piper, whose idea it was in the first place, big surprise, had then ever so eloquently pointed out that if for over ten years Jackie could manage to run my house, clean up after me, wash my clothes and keep me fed, she was more than qualified to run my schedule, arrange meetings and answer a phone.
She’d had a point, so Jackie gave in and that was that.
Don’t think for one second that I don’t know what had happened though.
Jackie may be my assistant the three days a week she’s not at the house, but the morning I saw her making notes in a diary full of coloured post-its, stickers and divider tabs labelled in different coloured markers was the morning I knew I was in the presence of Piper’s intern.
Fuck. Me. Swinging.
Even though by the time we returned to the States the mansion still hadn’t sold, neither Piper nor I had wanted to live there. Piper’s apartment was too small, so after much discussion, aka fighting followed by fucking - as is our way, we’d compromised. I’d purchased Piper’s place from her, which is now where Jackie lives. She and I also use it as our so-called office, not that I’m there much. Piper and I together have bought a beach house in Malibu. It’s still large, gated, and has a private beach, but it’s not gaudy and we both knew when we saw it that it’s where we’ll raise our family.
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