His voice was gentler now. "I'll have our lawyers talk on Monday. For now . . . ."
"Tell Cecily I love her."
"I will. I promise." He paused. "If you need anything . . . ."
"I have to handle this one myself, Gregory."
"You're not going to do anything rash, are you?"
"What? Like kill myself?"
He hesitated. "Something like that."
It didn't sound like a bad idea right then, but she wouldn't. She was through with being selfish. "No. I won't." She rubbed her forehead and took a breath. "I'll be fine. I promise."
He was quiet for a moment, as if digesting her words. "Okay, then." He took a breath. "You'll take care of yourself, right?"
"Of course."
"Good-bye, Simone."
"Good-bye, Gregory."
The click of the receiver on its cradle echoed through her with a note of finality. She exhaled heavily and put her head in her hands for a long moment. She was definitely out of the running for Mother of the Year, but she felt considerably better knowing Cecily was in Gregory's care, surrounded by stable, mature adults who could take care of themselves enough to take care of her.
After she hung up with Gregory, Simone gritted her teeth and dialed AnneMarie.
"Anne-Marie Bates," her agent answered.
"It's Simone."
The line fell silent. "You haven't returned any of my calls."
"I know. I'm sorry." Christ, I'm going to be saying that a lot for a while, aren't I?
"What the hell is going on, Simone? One minute you're telling me you've got it together, you're not going to fuck up; the next moment I'm doing damage control with Henry Wall and the press."
"You're probably not going to believe me, but it's not what the press made it out to be."
Anne-Marie paused. "I know. But—Christ, how did you let this happen?" Simone rested her elbow on her thigh and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. "Carolyn found out—"
"You told Carolyn?"
Simone winced. "It was stupid, I know."
"Jesus, babe, what did you expect?"
"Evidently I thought she was actually willing to be my sister for once."
"Shit. What now?"
"I'm not sure."
"Has Gregory found out?"
" Oh yes," Simone said. "I found out from him."
"Oh shit. That must've been a pleasant conversation."
"Delightful." Simone rubbed her forehead. "I told him I'm giving him full custody of Cecily."
Anne-Marie sighed. "Probably a good call. What about your man?"
"Jason?" Simone bit her lip. "He didn't take it well." She hesitated. "I'm going back to his place this afternoon. Hopefully he'll talk to me, but . . . ."
"But?"
"I doubt he will. He's furious."
"I would be too."
"Me too." She laid back on the bed and rubbed her eyes. "I really fucked up this time."
"Yeah, you could say that." Anne-Marie was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer. "Listen, I'm not going to lie; this isn't looking good with the brass."
"As if I'm the first actress to make an ass of herself in the tabloids."
"No, you're not," she said. "But an actress with bad publicity is a liability these days. People don't think it's quite so cute anymore."
"What can I do now?"
"You may want to think about rehab—"
"I don't need rehab."
"So says damn near everyone who does need rehab."
"Look, I know it's fashionable to do a stint at the Betty Ford Clinic, but I don't need it. I'm not going to do it just to pacify the press."
"Simone, your drinking—"
"Trust me," Simone said, eyeing the unopened Smirnoff bottle warily. "I think this morning has done more for my drinking than any rehab could ever do."
"I'll take your word for it," Anne-Marie said, in her, we'll talk about this later but you will do things my way, voice . "I have to go; I've got a meeting with my boss."
"Okay. I'll be back in L.A. in—" She paused. "Soon." Anne-Marie sighed. "Take care of yourself, Simone."
"I will. I promise." Simone hung up the phone and rubbed her eyes. She would do more damage control on her career when she got back to Hollywood. She wasn't the first actress to go off the deep end, and she certainly wouldn't be the last. It might take a while to shake the stigma of a tarnished reputation, but that was a wound only time—
and a complete one-eighty on her part—would heal.
Besides, she had one more thing to address before she went back to California.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Jason's house came into view. Simone gritted her teeth against the tears that thickened her throat. This was going to hurt.
The Jeep was in the driveway. That was a good sign. She swallowed. Hopefully he hadn't gone out walking on the beach. She didn't know how long she could sit and wait for him before she lost her nerve.
No. No backing out. She had to do this, no matter how much it hurt to see him hate her.
The sound of her own fist knocking on his door sent cold dread through her veins. He glanced out the window at her; judging by the hardness in his expression, he knew it was her even before he saw her.
He opened the door and stood in the threshold, arms folded across his chest. His unshaven skin rippled with the fierce clenching of his jaw. His eyes were red around the edges. Maybe he'd had too much to drink. Maybe he'd been crying over what she'd done to him. Hell, maybe he just didn't sleep. She supposed finding oneself naked on the cover of a tabloid could cause someone to lose sleep; she was practically numb to it now.
"Are we just going to stand here?" he asked, his tone arctic. Her heart pounded. "I just want to talk."
"Whatever it is you came to say, just say it and be done with it." There were no contradictions in him anymore. His expression, his voice, and his body language were all in perfect agreement now.
In spite of the pain and the fear, she forced herself to look into his eyes. "I just came to say I'm sorry."
"Funny, you mentioned the same thing last night."
She dropped her eyes. "Jason—"
He shifted his weight. "Is that why you never could tell me how you felt?
Because it was just another fling?"
"It wasn't just another fling."
"So you're telling me the reporters just made it all up. That you never told anyone I was just another notch on your bedpost. You know, I was under the impression that even reporters still had some ethics left." He raised an eyebrow. "They leave the fiction to the actors."
She winced. "I know who told them that," she said. "I didn't think it would get leaked to the press."
His eyes narrowed. "So you did say it?"
"I said it because I didn't trust the person I was talking to with the truth."
"But you didn't mind making up a lie?" He rolled his eyes. "Then again, I suppose lying comes naturally to you. You certainly had no trouble convincing me."
"Look, I never should have said anything to her. I know what a conniving, evil bitch she is, and I should have known this would happen. But I . . . ."
"You what?"
"I didn't even know how I felt at that point, Jason," she said. "I was so giddy every time I got back to L.A., from being with you; I needed to tell someone about you. I just—I didn't want her to know how I really felt."
"Apparently you didn't want anyone to know how you really felt, whatever the hell that is." He fidgeted against the doorframe.
"I didn't even know. Not until a few days ago."
"Pity you didn't figure it out before you let the rest of the world find out." He ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I suppose I should be used to being the last to know about these things, but I guess I thought you were different."
"I am different, it's not—"
"Why did you hide everything from me? Your entire life? Even your name? What did you think I was going to do? Throw you out becaus
e you're a fucking movie star?"
"No, not at all," Simone said, struggling to keep her composure. "That's just it, though: you were the only man who ever loved me because of me, not because I'm
‘Simone Farrell, the Movie Star'." She wrung her hands and avoided his eyes. "I didn't want to lose that."
"And you thought I'd keep loving you after you lied to me?" His voice was unsteady.
She turned away, her shoulders slack. The weight of his glare was leaden on her back. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
"Then what did you mean to happen, Simone?"
Simone put a hand to her mouth as the tears threatened to fall. "I didn't want you to be the last to know. I had no idea the press knew. Hell, they don't know truth. They think they do; they think they know but they got it wrong this time." She wiped her eye and cleared her throat. "I came up, this last time, because I wanted to tell you everything. But after you told me about your ex-wife, about everything that had happened with her, I just, I couldn't. I don't know, I got scared." She took a breath. "The morning the story broke, I had already made up my mind I was going to tell you the truth, tell you everything." She bit the inside of her cheek, taking a deep, ragged breath.
"I was going to call you that night, but first . . . ."
"But first what?"
She looked at him then, forcing her words out through gritted teeth. "I needed to see my daughter. I've been a shitty parent, and I needed to be with her. She's been through hell, she's been humiliated by me time and time again, and I owed it to her to be her parent for once. After that, I was going to call you that night and tell you everything." She put her hands up. "That's the honest truth, Jason." He watched her, his intense brown eyes burning with unreadable emotions. Simone ground her teeth. "I have nothing to offer you but my word. I know that isn't worth shit to you now, but it's all I have." She swallowed hard and wetted her lips.
"All I can do is hope you believe me when I tell you I wanted the whole world to know about you, about how I felt—and still feel—about you, but not like this. Not some
sleazy lie." She took a ragged breath. Time to let the guard down. No more defenses, no more walls. No turning back. "And I just came here to tell you what I wanted the whole world to know. I want you to be the first to know. Not the last."
"And what is that?" His expression was cold, but the corner of his mouth twitched with a flicker of emotion as he watched her.
She exhaled. "That I am deeply, undeniably, in love with you. And I have been from the beginning. I was scared. I've never felt like this about anyone. I know I'm the last person in the world you'll believe, but I needed you to hear it from me. I love you, Jason."
His breath caught. It was an almost imperceptible reaction, but it was there. Please, Jason, please, she silently begged. Please believe me. Then his arms tightened across his chest. He still said nothing, but his expression hardened again. She cleared her throat. There was nothing more to say. "I just wanted you to know."
"Well," he said, his tone cold and flat. "Now I know." They looked at each other in silence for a long moment, until she couldn't stand the weight of his stare any longer. She turned to go, started for the car, hoping he would stop her, but knowing he wouldn't. She didn't look back as she got into the car and left.
Chapter Fifty-Five
After Simone had gone, Jason closed the front door and leaned against it. He rubbed his temples, trying in vain to get rid of the aching remains of last night's binge. It had been years since he'd drunk that much that fast.
Fat lot of good it did me.
He wondered if Simone had done the same thing last night. It was impossible to tell if the red around her eyes had been from tears or booze. If the article he'd read was accurate, she was no stranger to the bottle.
Staring up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes, he thought back to the time they'd spent together. All told, she might have consumed two bottles of wine in his presence. She'd never had more than one or two glasses at a time, never enough to slur her words or compromise her balance. For someone with an alleged drinking problem, she never got carried away around him.
She never got carried away with the liquor, anyway. From the sound of it, alcohol wasn't her only addiction, or her most destructive. Grinding his teeth, he wondered how many other men were on her roster in between those incredible nights she'd shared with him.
He shook his head, reminding himself there was no sense dwelling on it. Time to move on, no matter how much it all pissed him off. And hurt him. And humiliated him. And—
Definitely time to move on.
But moving on was easier said than done in this house. Just as it was last night, the cabin was alive with her memory. The thought of drowning those memories in Jack again was tempting, but the throbbing in his head made him think twice. Well, if I can't get her out of my head, I can at least get out of the house for a while. He grabbed his keys and headed into town.
* * * * *
Simone drove around for a while before going back into Tofino. The press was there, and she just couldn't face them. Not yet.
Her heart ached and her stomach was tied up in knots. All she could think of was the chill in Jason's voice, the anger in his eyes.
Well. Now I know. The echo of his cold words brought tears to her eyes again. She deserved his contempt, all of it and more, but seeing it, hearing it, feeling it in the air, was unbearable.
Finally, she headed back into town. She turned the rental car from Campbell Street onto Main, in the heart of Tofino, and her blood turned to ice. The red Jeep. Parked in front of one of the shops. She thought about driving away then; she couldn't face him, not here, not out in public.
But then, up ahead, she saw reporters swarming the sidewalks, the street, the end of the marina. Anger boiled within her. She wanted to hate them for what they had done to her life, and it was true, without them, she might still have Jason, but the fact was she had done it to herself. She could blame Carolyn and the press and everything between here and Mars, but she alone had hurt him. She had lied to him. And if the media could broadcast her sins, perhaps they could also broadcast her apology.
She pulled into a parking space and put the car in park. She took a long, deep breath, and reached for the car door. Though there was no way to convince Jason how sorry she was, perhaps she could at least convince the rest of the world. She got out of the car and started toward the heart of the swarming mass of reporters. They instantly saw her. Every snap of a camera shutter, every probing question, tightened the knot in her stomach, but she steeled herself and faced them down. Her heart pounded like she was standing on the tracks facing a speeding freight train.
In an instant, they were all around her, circling like sharks. Dozens of lenses vied for a good look at her and a massive bouquet of microphones was thrust into her face. The questions buzzed around her, but she heard nothing.
"I want to say something," she said quietly.
Slowly, the crowd fell silent except for the occasional snap of a camera shutter. They watched her. Waited.
She took a long, deep breath. She couldn't remember ever feeling so vulnerable, so exposed. "I want to clear up the lies that have been fed to you by my sister." She waited for a barrage of questions to interrupt her, but when it didn't come, she
continued. "Not for my own benefit, but for the person who was most hurt and humiliated by all of this."
She looked around at the reporters. Every one of them stared at her, eyebrows raised in anticipation. Finally, she said, "It is true that I have been coming here to Tofino, and that I have been involved with someone here." She swallowed. "But contrary to what my sister may have told you, my relationship with him was not ‘just another fling', another 'notch in my bedpost'. For once in my life, I was not using someone." Emotion tightened her throat, but she forced herself to go on. "I made some mistakes in the past, and God knows I was self-destructing, completely falling apart, on a one-way ticket to rehab. But that has changed now. I've
stopped drinking. I've stopped running around with any man I can find. The woman you see standing before you is not the Simone Farrell you're accustomed to."
"When will we meet this boyfriend?" a reporter interjected, pushing a microphone toward her face.
"Will he appear publicly?"
"How has he handled this latest scandal?"
Simone gestured for them to be quiet. She narrowed her eyes and forced herself to keep the anger out of her voice, but the venom seeped through her clenched teeth.
"There is no more relationship to make public." She took a breath. "I lied to him about who I was, about what my intentions were. Although I truly had fallen in love with him—and remain more in love than I've ever been with anyone in all my life . . . ." Her voice wavered, and she paused while she regained her composure. "He was the last to know. I waited too long to tell him. I waited too long, and he learned the truth about me through the photos and the articles that were published." She cleared her throat as tears threatened to fall. "I can only say that I am sorry. To him, to everyone. I have made a mess out of my life over the last few years and too many people have been hurt along the way. I only regret that this man, the one who was probably more responsible than anyone for getting me back on the right track, isn't likely to forgive me anytime soon."
"Where can we find him?"
"Will he be willing to comment?"
"What's his name, Simone?"
Vultures, she thought bitterly. Simone opened her mouth to answer, but a voice from behind the crowd spoke first.
"Jason Connor."
The reporters' heads turned as one and Simone craned her neck. The crowd parted, and a second later, Jason's face came into view as he moved toward her. His eyes were locked on her, but he spoke to the gathered reporters. "My name is Jason Connor."
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