by Susannah Nix
She’d changed the name on her profile to something that wasn’t her actual name, and was pretty sure she’d weeded out all the weirdos who’d followed her before she locked her account down, but the information was already a matter of public record for anyone who wanted it. Her identity had been outed to the world.
She felt numb. It was hard to believe this was really happening to her. How had she gotten herself into this mess?
Griffin had said she’d get used to this kind of negative attention. But what if she didn’t? What if she wasn’t capable of getting used to living like this? Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this kind of life. Maybe it wasn’t worth it.
She could understand why Griffin put up with it. It was the cost of fame. He’d chosen this life because he loved acting and wanted to live this way. But she hadn’t chosen this. She wasn’t looking for celebrity. There was no upside for her. She just wanted to be left alone to live her life in obscurity, but Griffin’s adoring public would never let her do that. Not as long as she was with him.
“You want me to see what it says?” Rachel offered, gesturing at Alice’s phone.
“Yes, please.” Alice had turned off all her social media notifications, but she’d been getting texts and emails from old acquaintances and distant relatives all day. Now that she was infamous, everyone she’d ever gone to school with or gotten a birthday card from was crawling out of the woodwork to get the scoop on her celebrity relationship.
She had no desire whatsoever to reconnect with any of them at the moment. On the other hand, if someone was trying to alert her to some new social media disaster that was unfolding, she should probably know about it.
Rachel picked up the phone. “It’s a bunch of texts from Griffin.”
Alice’s heart stuttered in her chest.
“Do you want to see them?” Rachel asked, biting her lip.
Alice swallowed a mouthful of wine. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“He’s apologizing.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Alice held out her hand. She might as well see what he had to say.
I’m sorry.
I was upset and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.
Can we talk?
Please?
“What are you going to do?” Rachel asked.
“I guess I’ll talk to him.”
Not tonight though. She was way too drunk to have a serious conversation tonight, much less drive.
Tomorrow, she typed back. I’m too tired tonight.
Are you okay? Where are you?
I’m at Rachel’s. I’ll come by tomorrow and we’ll talk.
I’m glad you’re with a friend. I love you.
Alice didn’t reply back.
Kimberleigh had sent Alice flowers: a giant bouquet of buttery yellow roses that Griffin didn’t know what to do with. He stared at the card, wondering what it could possibly say, and whether it would make things worse between him and Alice. For a brief moment, he toyed with tossing the flowers straight into the big garbage can outside. Instead, he set them on the coffee table and went back to cleaning the house.
The house didn’t need cleaning; his cleaning woman had been there only three days before. But Alice was coming over and Griffin was a nervous wreck. Cleaning soothed his nerves. It was something productive he could do to distract himself from the acid whirlpool currently ravaging his stomach lining.
He’d completely freaked when Sabrina told him about the photo yesterday. The thought of everything he’d worked for going down the shitter over a single careless mistake had sent him into a panic, and he’d taken that panic out on Alice in a way she hadn’t deserved. He hadn’t expected her to walk out like that though. It wasn’t until after she’d left that the enormity of his mistake had sunk in. He’d been so focused on his own problems, he hadn’t given enough thought to what she was going through.
He could have been more understanding. He should have tried to help her deal with her sudden infamy instead of lashing out at her over it. He would have gotten there eventually, if they’d talked it out last night. But instead Alice had gotten angry and left.
He’d thought they were just arguing. That they’d vent at each other a little until they’d gotten it out of their systems, and then they’d make up. But instead of staying to work it out, she’d run away. Walked out on him before he’d even grasped that it was happening.
He hadn’t appreciated how upset she was, because once again he’d had his head too far up his own ass to look beyond his own immediate crisis. All he’d been able to think about was how it affected him, and his career, and his professional relationships. She probably thought that was all he cared about, because in the moment it was all he’d thought about. He really was shit at this relationship stuff.
In the emptiness Alice’s absence had left behind, that one stupid photo didn’t feel so important anymore. His career didn’t feel so important anymore, if it caused him to lose her.
Griffin wiped down the kitchen counters, scrubbed the sink, ran the dust mop over the floor, and fluffed all the cushions on the couch. One of the roses had already dropped a petal. He plucked it off the coffee table and rubbed the velvety material between his fingers as he carried it to the kitchen. By the time he dropped it in the trash, it looked like a used dryer sheet.
Taco jumped up from his bed and ran to the sliding door, wagging his tail expectantly, which must mean Alice had pulled up.
Griffin stood in the kitchen and waited.
He startled at the knock on the front door. He’d expected her to come in through the sliding door, the way she always did when she knew he was home. And why was she knocking instead of using her key?
He had a feeling he knew why, and he really hoped he was wrong. His heart beat a jerky rhythm in his chest as he walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob for a second, drawing a breath before he pulled it open.
Alice looked pale and unhappy. Her skin had a papery translucence and her eyes were sunken, with a reddish cast as if she’d been crying.
Instinctively, he started to reach for her, then stopped himself. “Alice—”
She stepped into his arms, her hands sliding around his waist and fisting in the back of his shirt. The comforting, familiar scent of her worked like an aerosolized tranquilizer to banish his anxieties. He blew out a long breath as he wrapped her up, burying his face in her hair.
It would be okay. She still loved him. They could work the rest of it out. Together.
He’d break off the arrangement with Kimberleigh if that’s what Alice wanted. Deal with the publicity from the fake breakup of his fake relationship and whatever that might mean for his career. As long as he had Alice, he could navigate the rest of it.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled out of his arms. Her spine was rigid and her expression pained. That was when he realized. He’d read the situation all wrong. She hadn’t come to make up with him at all.
She walked past him into the house, and he stood there staring helplessly out the open doorway like someone who’d just gotten on the wrong subway train and was watching the station recede in the distance.
After another moment he shut the door and followed Alice inside.
She’d stopped in the middle of the living room to stare at the roses. “Did you—”
“No,” he said. “Kimberleigh sent them.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to read the card.”
Alice walked over and took the tiny envelope from its plastic holder. He watched her expression carefully as she peeled it open and read the card inside. Blotchy pink spots formed on her cheeks, and she pressed her lips together.
“What does it say?”
She tucked the card in her purse. “That she’s sorry for all this mess.”
“I’m sorry too, if that counts for anything.”
She turned to face him, and a feeling of cold dread settled in his limbs. “It does.” She shook her head. “But
not enough.”
Griffin took an unsteady breath and released it. “I love you. Isn’t that enough?”
Her eyes gleamed, but she blinked the tears away before they could fall. “I don’t think so.”
“Why? Because of Kimberleigh? I’ll get out of that, if it’s what you want.”
Alice’s mouth took on a bitter twist. “It’s a little too late to put that toothpaste back in the tube. Whether you’re in that relationship or out, the damage is done.”
“Look, I know it seems bad now—”
“It doesn’t just seem bad.”
“We can get past this. Just give it time.” He was desperate now. Pleading. “I know I didn’t handle any of this well, and I’m sorry. But don’t do this. Please, Alice. Let me fix it.” There was a tremor in his voice.
“It’s not your fault. I—” She took a step toward him and seemed about to reach out before she stopped herself with a little head shake. “It’s not just about Kimberleigh or the photo. I just think all this was too much for me. Living together. Not being able to go out or talk to anyone.” She made a jerky gesture in his direction. “Your whole lifestyle. I’m not like you. I can’t deal with all this attention and craziness. I don’t want it.”
What she was really saying was that she didn’t want him. Not enough to put up with all the downsides.
Kimberleigh had been right. She’d tried to warn Griffin back in Atlanta that it wouldn’t work out. The glare of the spotlight was too harsh for those who hadn’t chosen this kind of life.
Alice reached up to smooth her ponytail over her shoulder. She looked miserable. That was how being with him made her feel—miserable. “I just want to have a normal, quiet life and be in a normal relationship with a normal person. I deserve that.”
Griffin nodded, surprised at how calm he was able to be while his whole world was crumbling. “I’ll never be able to give you that. Even if this stuff with Kimberleigh had never happened—”
“People would still judge me,” Alice said. “I know. I’ll never be able to be seen with you without being photographed, scrutinized, and compared to some unreasonable standard.”
He looked down at the floor. “There’s nothing I can do to make any of that go away. It’s part of the package with me.”
“I can’t live like that.” Her voice hitched. “I could barely even deal with it when I wasn’t part of the narrative. When we were together—”
Griffin’s throat closed at her use of the past tense, as if the breakup was already final.
“—I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t get any work done. It was like I turned into this other person who was so caught up in you and your life that my own life didn’t feel real anymore. And I didn’t like being that person very much.”
He thought it was unfair to blame him for her inability to focus, but he also knew it didn’t matter whose fault it was. If being with him prevented her from living her life and accomplishing her goals, well then being with him wasn’t very good for her, was it?
And if he wasn’t good for her, then he needed to let her go.
“So what are you saying?” he asked, knowing perfectly well what she was saying. He needed to hear the words spoken aloud. For his own sense of closure.
“I guess I’m saying I can’t be in your life anymore.”
“Okay.” He had to force the words out. “If that’s what you want.”
She did reach out for him then, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. “I think it’s what I need.”
He clutched at her hand and pulled her toward him, hoping she’d allow him one last embrace.
She fell willingly into his arms. Griffin breathed her in, knowing it might be the last time he ever got to hold her like this. Her chest hitched, and he laid his hand on the back of her head.
“Alice—” I love you. I need you. Please don’t do this to me. I don’t know how to live my life without you. He could have said all that and a lot more, but he choked it back. “I just want you to be happy.”
She nodded against his chest, the tears she wouldn’t let him see making his shirt damp.
They stood that way for a long time before she finally pushed herself away. Letting her go was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
She gestured toward the bedroom. “I’m gonna go pack up my things.”
“Do you need help?”
She shook her head. “It’s probably easier if I do it alone.”
Griffin sank down on the couch after she’d disappeared into the back. It only took her fifteen minutes to pack up all her things. He’d felt like their lives were inextricably bound together these last few months, but the truth was she’d never completely moved in. Not permanently. It shocked him how quickly she was able to remove all traces of herself.
He helped her carry it all outside and load it into her car. When the last of it was done, she bent to pick up Taco, who’d been anxiously trotting at her heel. He’d seen Griffin’s suitcases often enough, he probably knew what they meant.
“I’m gonna miss you, little fur ball,” she whispered, hugging the dog to her chest. Taco licked the dried tears from her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Griffin looked away. It was too fucking hard to watch, and he didn’t want to lose his shit until after she was gone.
He heard her set the dog down and step toward him. “Thank you—”
“Don’t do that.” He shook his head, grimacing at the bile in the back of his throat. “Don’t thank me.”
“You saved me.”
Her voice sounded so rough, he had to look at her. A single tear stood out on her cheek. He reached out an unsteady hand and rubbed it away with his thumb.
Her eyes fell shut. “You really did. You were my knight in shining armor.”
Was it his imagination, or had she leaned into his touch? “Are you sure we can’t—” He stopped when she shook her head.
She moved his hand off her face. “I have to save myself this time.”
He didn’t like to think he was what she had to save herself from. But that was the truth, wasn’t it? Maybe if he’d been an accountant or a car salesman, the two of them could have made it work. They could have had a happy, normal life together. But he was who he was, and the fame he’d fought so hard for was like a drug addiction. It brought a lot of highs, but the long-term effects were toxic—to everyone around him.
He held on to her hand, entwining their fingers. “If you need anything—ever—I’m right here. I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always—” He swallowed thickly. “I’ll always be here for you.”
She tilted her head up and pressed trembling lips against his. It wasn’t so much a kiss as a wordless goodbye.
Her fingers slipped out of his grasp, and he watched her get in her car and drive away.
23
“Are you going to campus today?” Rachel called out from the kitchen.
“Uhhh…probably not,” Alice answered without looking up from her laptop.
Rachel’s head leaned out of the kitchen. “But you are planning on getting dressed at some point, right?”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom. I’ll remember to shower while you’re at work.”
She’d been crashing on Rachel’s couch for the last month, thanks to Rachel’s generosity and Rachel’s roommate’s propensity to spend most of her time at her boyfriend’s apartment. Not for much longer though. Soon, Alice would be moving to a new place with her very own room and a brand-new set of roommates.
Her apartment search had gone much better this time around. One good thing about having your life publicly crash and burn was that it helped you figure out who your friends were. A surprising number of people had stepped forward, not to gawk at the traffic accident that was her romantic life, but to offer real assistance.
Rachel had offered a temporary place to stay with the full blessing of her roommate, who hadn’t even known Alice before she’d volunteered her couch. Alice’s grad school friend Anh
had hooked her up with someone who was studying search engines and mediated internet interactions, who’d had lots of advice for scrubbing Alice’s online footprint. Mike had said he knew of a producer on the hunt for a house sitter if Alice wanted to give that another go, but she had vetoed the idea straightaway—the last thing she needed in her life was more celebrity. Fortunately, Pete had come through by knowing a guy who knew a guy who needed to sublet his room in a three-bedroom apartment he shared with two other people.
The sublet was only for six months, but by then—fingers crossed—Alice would have graduated and found a full-time data science job, and would be in a position to afford a decent place of her own. She’d already started looking into a few companies who were hiring—two local and one in Austin, though she couldn’t really see herself moving to Texas—and the market seemed promising. Far more promising than the higher education market, in point of fact.
“When was the last time you left the apartment?” Rachel asked, wandering out of the kitchen with a granola bar in one hand and travel mug of coffee in the other.
“Yesterday. When I went to the grocery store.”
“That was two days ago.”
“Whatever.” Alice shrugged. “I’ve got to finish formatting all these references so I can submit the draft to my committee by tomorrow.”
“Do you have a date for your defense yet?”
“Not yet. That’s why I have to finish all this stupid formatting. So I can get my approval to defend and they’ll finally set a date.”
“Well, let me know. I’ll take off work that day.”