Recovery

by JC Harroway

  My watery smile felt unconvincing. Could I sum up the situation between Nathan and I in one phrase? In view of Claudia’s revelations, I wasn’t sure the word relationship even applied. We had major trust issues—he’d mislead me by omission and his life under the microscope still made me want to run for the hills, screaming.

  ‘So? Does he have a wife? Erectile dysfunction? Is he a cheating, lying scumbag who dumped you at an awards ceremony he begged you to come to?’ Her smile fell and tears glistened on her lashes.

  I sighed. ‘No, nothing like that. It just seemed like we were heading somewhere. But we’re not even really a couple.’

  She blinked away the tears as confusion creased her brow.

  ‘It started as a ruse. As I said—complicated. And now, I’m not sure where we are. Our lives are so different and I don’t know if we can make a future together, or that he even wants one.’

  ‘See, I told you—commitment issues. They all have them. Why the ruse? Is it forbidden love?’ Her eyes sparkled with a vintage Hollywood swoon.

  I laughed, feeling lighter for the first time since the Claudia incident. ‘Let’s just say it was mutually beneficial for us to appear to be together, but we weren’t really, not then. And now, well I’m just not sure. He works with lots of beautiful women and sometimes those boundaries are blurred. I’d almost convinced myself it was all in my head, but tonight …’ I choked back the humiliation threatening to suffocate me. ‘The reason I was distracted—I’d just discovered my concerns were justified.’

  ‘That does sound complicated. Another cheater, eh?’

  I closed my eyes, breathing through the swell of panic that accompanied the Nathan and Tia images. ‘I’m not sure, but he kept something from me.’

  ‘You’re in love with him, aren’t you? Part of you wants to make it work.’ She touched my arm in sisterly solidarity, taking my bewildered silence for affirmation.

  No doubt my feelings were clearly written all over my face, too raw to be concealed. Claudia’s poison had done its work, infecting my resolve to bury my jealousy and trust Nathan. Like an invading toxin, it pumped through my blood, wrapping itself around nerve endings, flushing my body with prickles of unease. The urge to confront him grew. I was hurtling towards the OK Corral with the inevitability of the self-destructive.

  ‘I think my cab has arrived. Good luck with your complications.’ To my surprise she slipped her shoe on and stood.

  ‘Do you need help?’ I glanced at the doors beyond the cloakroom. It was a long way to hobble.

  ‘I’m good, thanks.’ Her expression had morphed from friendly camaraderie to blank aloofness. What had I said to upset her? I had no time to question her as she strode to the exit in her five-inch heels on an injury that could only be described as miraculously healed.

  ***

  As if magnetically drawn to him, I spotted Nathan twirling one of his co-stars on the edge of the dance floor. My chest seized at the sight of him smiling and buoyant as he led his dance partner, his confidence coiling desire low in my belly.

  Just like the first time I’d seen him, he oozed that indefinable X-factor that lured mere mortals to him as sure as if he lived in Hamlin and played a magic pipe. I felt the same pull myself, only now I knew his flaws, his aspirations and his compassion. He wasn’t an untouchable deity, far removed from us ordinary folk. He was a man, pure and simple, and I was in love with him.

  I gripped the back of a gilded chair at our table as the certainty of my revelation knocked the air from my lungs. I was deeply in love with one of the world’s best-known movie stars and I had no idea what to do with that.

  ‘Would you take an old man for a spin, Soph?’ Tyler appeared, holding out his hand with an endearing smile, coaxing me to accept.

  I sucked in a breath, shoving down feelings that were too big to analyse in a room full of people. ‘I’d love to, but I hope those shoes have steel toecaps?’

  With a confident smile, he took my hand and led me into the dancing throng. ‘I’m so happy for Nate.’ He held me at a comfortable distance, skilfully manoeuvring my body into something resembling a dance.

  I beamed, despite the boiling pot of confused emotions swirling in my gut. ‘Me too. His first Emmy.’

  Tyler’s smile lit his handsome face. ‘I’m sure it will be one of many. Are you having a good time?’

  I had been. Now I was scraped raw, doubt and humiliation a disease weakening me. ‘Yes, it’s a great party.’ My voice sounded lame and I brightened my smile, dodging further interrogation on my mental state.

  I glanced up and caught Nathan’s eye as he danced nearby. I lifted my chin in a reassuring smile but the creases deepened around his eyes—he knew something was bothering me.

  ‘So, how long have you known Trudy Burgman?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I saw you talking to her in the foyer. I didn’t realise you knew her, although she’s quite a celebrity in her own right these days.’

  ‘Oh, no, I don’t know her. We collided outside the ladies’ room and she twisted her ankle. I felt responsible so I helped her.’ We hadn’t swapped names, slipping into an intimate conversation the way women can with a stranger-in-arms. ‘I didn’t recognise her—would I have seen her on TV?’

  ‘Perhaps, if you watch the entertainment channel. She’s a celebrity blogger who became famous for the outrageous videos she posted, and now she has her own show.’

  Icy water trickled through my veins. ‘What kind of show?’ I knew before he replied it was going to be bad and he presumably sensed my apprehension, his feet stilling as he gazed down at me with concern.

  ‘She specialises in slating celebs—you know, gossip mongering and candid exposés. Why, what did she ask you?’

  My temples throbbed as I filtered our conversation, cringing at how naïve I’d been.

  ‘Can I steal my date, please mate?’ Nathan arrived, placing his hand on the small of my back, his chest all puffed in a friendly challenge.

  Tyler wiped the trepidation from his face, casting me a look of pure sympathy before saying, ‘Keep your hair on, Banksy. Every guy in the room wants to dance with your beautiful lady.’ Tyler leaned in to press his lips to my cheek, his whispered ‘Don’t worry’ barely audible, before slapping his friend’s shoulder and leaving the dance floor.

  We were silent for a few minutes, the weight of the reckoning to come pressing down on me and sealing my mouth closed. I gripped Nathan’s hand, needing to physically cling to him, even as I was preparing to push him away.

  ‘What happened, Soph? You’re freaking me out here—are you ill?’ He raised his hand from my waist to cup my cheek with a tenderness that chilled me to the core.

  I focused on his eyes, swimming in their green depths, glimpsing his beautiful soul inside before the pain in my chest grew too strong and I looked away. I hated that I was going to ruin his evening and I wished I could delay the inevitable train wreck. If only I could rewind time back to when I’d thought the discovery of Nathan’s past relationship with Tia was devastating.

  I prided myself on taking care of my loved ones and I’d failed him tonight. But I couldn’t tell him here. I had no idea how upset he’d be, but I knew this was the worst possible venue for any sort of scene. ‘Nothing, I’m fine.’ I forced my expression to remain neutral. ‘I just have a little headache.’ The lie was bitter on my tongue, souring my good intentions and adding a further dollop of guilt to the already over-spilling cauldron of self-recrimination.

  ‘So, let’s get out of here.’ His eyes narrowed, the muscles of his jaw ticking, but he could be patient. And determined, as the grip on my arm as he ushered me from the dance floor indicated.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE great room in Nathan’s Californian home was a tranquil haven of warm white décor, oversized white sofas and rich hardwood flooring. Rustic wrought-iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the art on the walls had heavy, bleached wood frames that resembled driftwood.

  The w
armth from the open fire that crackled in the hearth did little to defrost my frozen limbs, and I shivered despite my resolve to stay strong.

  ‘Tell me again?’ Nathan paced, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. My heart clenched. He was beautiful. Magnificent. He’d abandoned his jacket and his waistcoat was open along with the top few buttons of his shirt. His hair was a tousled mess, and my fingers itched to feel its silkiness. I rubbed them on my thighs to ease the burn.

  ‘I didn’t know who she was. I thought I’d injured her. She’s a very good actress.’ My bitter laugh reverberated in my hollow chest and I held out my frigid fingers to the flames before me, desperate for some heat to fill the void my naiveté had created.

  ‘What did you tell her?’ He came to a stop before me, his emerald eyes reflecting the licks of fire from the hearth as he hid the accusation behind a mask of rigid control.

  I cringed, shame heating me where the fire had failed to. ‘I thought she was a guest. She said she’d been dumped … women talk.’ My explanation was so lame I bit my lip until the metallic tang of blood replaced the taste of humble pie. ‘I didn’t mention your name. I didn’t even mention my name—she won’t know who I am.’ I willed my words to be true. She was probably somewhere filming her latest instalment of celebrity gossip at my expense. At Nathan’s expense.

  And what about my family? The credit for this round of public humiliation lay firmly at my feet and I’d only have myself to blame for any ramifications. I glanced at my watch, calculating the time in the UK—I’d call Matty as soon as he awoke and warn him not to talk to anyone out of the ordinary.

  Nathan’s silence was ear-piercing. I filled my hands with fistfuls of gauzy fabric from my skirt to preoccupy them and prevent me shaking the reprimand I deserved from him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think …’ The humiliation was back, diluting my shame with a potent dose of indignation. ‘If you’d told me, I wouldn’t have been so upset and I would have looked where I was walking. You said you’d look after me—I’m not used to your world, remember?’

  He halted, his body rigid, his stare harsh and uncompromising. ‘Told you what? To not talk to fucking journos? I’d have thought that was self-evident.’ He resumed his pacing across the large fireside rug.

  Bitter words squeezed past my teeth. ‘I didn’t know who she was, and I meant you could have told me about Tia?’

  My thoughts tumbled over themselves, trying to form an orderly queue in my mind. Guilt, pain, anger and fear swirled around, struggling for dominance. Aware I was in the wrong, my guilt latched on to the indignation Claudia’s goading revelation had triggered.

  ‘Are you telling me this was all about some stupid fucking photo shoot?’ His voice dropped to menacing levels and I hugged my arms, throwing up a barrier between his ire and my vital organs.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d dated her?’ Rage simmered, a slow boil ready to spill over at any second. ‘You asked me to watch you grind against her, to press your lips to her skin, to stand there while she touched you, smelled you, all the time convincing me it was acting, and you didn’t think to tell me she knew exactly what the real experience felt like?’

  I was boiling mad now, frustration and pain pouring from me in a tumble of angry words and accusatory glares. ‘I trusted you, believed you when you rushed home to me desperate to wash her off and replace her scent with mine.’ I found the small wound inside my cheek again, probing at it with sharp teeth to still the well of humiliation threatening to fill my eyes.

  His glare registered shock for the briefest of seconds before hardening into bitter chips of stone. ‘Tia and I were nothing—a couple of quick meaningless bangs years ago, before she moved on to someone richer, more famous. Why would I tell you about that? About a woman who used me on her climb to the top? Besides, I didn’t even know it was her I’d be shooting with that day until we arrived at the studio.’ He gripped the back of his neck, finishing his drink in a quick swallow before placing his glass on a nearby table. ‘What other little secrets did Trudy Bergman tell you about me? I know how you girls just love to share.’ His tone had a knife twisting in my belly, its blade toughened surgical steel honed with pinpoint accuracy.

  I felt certain he’d hear my gasp as the pain stole my breath, but he gave no indication of triumph his words had found their target, keeping his rigid back turned to me. I was nothing special after all. Just another woman who’d used him, taken a piece of him and sold it to the highest bidder. Did he believe the worst because deep down, like many in his profession, he’d acted because he didn’t feel good enough just being himself?

  My shoulders slumped with defeat and fatigue, the anger leaving me like a gush of blood staining the carpet. I’d failed him on two counts tonight. I’d betrayed him and worse, I couldn’t heal him. Not from himself and his own destructive self-doubts. But he’d failed me too, betraying me with an omission that had chipped away at my resolve to lower my guard and welcome him into my life. Failure crushed me, the concrete blocks tumbling from a great height to quash any hope I harboured that we might be able to build a future from our unconventional union.

  Gathering my dignity around me like a defence force, I swallowed down my humiliation, storing it for future dissection. ‘I’m sorry you feel that I deliberately spilled my guts as some sort of revenge.’ He had the good grace to reveal a flash of regret in the gaze he turned to me. ‘I would never do that—’

  ‘I’m not accusing you of that. Trudy Bergman will clearly stop at nothing for a good story.’

  I shrugged, numbness settling into my limbs like lead. ‘But it was Claudia who told me about you and Tia.’

  He whirled around. ‘Claudia?’

  I took no solace from the bewildered shock in his eyes. ‘Yes. Your … friend cornered me in the ladies’ room to give me her fascinating take on your relationship with Tia, along with a charming demonstration of the perils of snorting narcotics.’

  He collapsed into an armchair, his elbows braced on his spread knees and his forehead buried in his hands. The urge to reach out and caress the soft skin at the nape of his neck, to brush my lips over it until he groaned, to lose control and lead us both from this bleak wilderness into the haven of unique pleasure we conjured in each other was overwhelming. But the euphoria would be passing, requiring dose after dose to banish the problems we’d still have when the effects wore off. Clearly an addiction, even one that could create such amazing highs, was still an addiction and ultimately bad for us.

  ‘I regret not telling you about Tia. It seemed … irrelevant, but I can see how it appears.’ Fatigue marred the perfection of his arresting eyes, and compassion for him swelled inside me as guilt and humiliation duelled for control of my nervous system.

  I hadn’t worn it in a while, but I pulled the lapels on my metaphorical white coat tighter across my chest and channelled my bedside manner. This was what I did, what I was good at. Making people feel better. Although I knew my skills were inadequate to heal the gaping, raw-edged hole of my own misery. ‘Let’s get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning.’

  He stood, pulling me forward so the front of my ice-cold body was pressed along the length of his warm and comforting one. ‘I’m sorry, Soph. You’re right. Let’s sleep on it.’ He pressed his lips to my hair and I shuddered at the rightness of being in his arms. But the honest me knew. The wrong had set in and it would spread like a plague, infecting us until the right was only a distant memory.

  ***

  I was running. The light was blinding like the blaze of a million camera flashes. Instead of fleeing, my legs propelled me forward, the screams of fans luring me towards the glare and a fall I already knew was going to be painful.

  I sat up, my lungs gasping for air and my hand reaching blindly for my phone on the bedside table. The ringtone pierced my eardrums in the blackness of the room and I fumbled to answer just to make it stop. My heart thumped against my ribs, the responding pulse humming in my head and the tips of my fingers. I’d aw
oken too many times in the middle of the night to the harsh shrill tones of a pager to know this could only be bad news and even as I croaked ‘Hello’, I was swinging my legs from the warmth of the bed.

  ‘Soph?’ My mother’s voice doused me with a bucket of icy water, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep. ‘It’s Dad; he’s had another heart attack. You need to come, love.’

  The years of training served me well as I boxed up my personal emotions, employing the professional, fact-finding mode to ascertain the salient features from my distraught mother. As I spoke, I pulled on yoga pants and checked my handbag for my passport.

  ‘I’ll be on the first flight.’

  As I disconnected the call, I became aware of Nathan’s solid warmth behind me, his hands heavy on my shoulders anchoring me when I would have crawled out of my skin and spun into the inky black nothingness of the sky. I clutched his fingers with one hand, sucking the last drops of comfort from him in preparation for the losses ahead.

  We’d shared a bed last night, lying side by side, lost to our own thoughts as we’d tossed and turned until a restless slumber had claimed us. But we hadn’t shared our bodies or our souls, the chasm between us magnifying the scant space between our bodies on the mattress, making it as impassable as the Grand Canyon.

  Releasing him, I moved to the bathroom to collect my hairbrush and toothbrush. I couldn’t waste time on regret, needing to focus all my energy on my dad. I closed my eyes, biting back the surge of panic. Please wait for me, Dad. I’m coming.

  When I returned to the bedroom, Nathan was on his phone talking to Jake about flights. He held the phone between his head and his shoulder as he tugged on his jeans. He must have garnered enough information from my side of the phone call to piece together what had happened.

  Too restless to stand still, I stuffed a change of clothes into my bag and moved to the hallway, my fingers fumbling on the screen of my phone for the information they sought. Within seconds, I’d placed an international call to the hospital housing my father, explaining who I was to the ward sister and asking to speak to the doctor caring for him. It wasn’t good news, but knowledge of the enzyme levels in his blood, ECG findings and medication he was receiving comforted me. He was alive and I was going to him.