One Day at a Time

by Danielle Steel

  “So did I,” he said miserably. “It happens that way sometimes. They drive each other into a frenzy.” He had never felt so defenseless in his life. He had wanted a last romantic gondola ride for her, and they had been totally unprotected. They had no escape. “I'm so sorry, Coco. I never wanted anything like that to happen to you. Someone must have tipped them off at the restaurant or here. They get paid for that, and you never know who does it. The poor gondolier didn't know what hit him.” He had made a hell of a tip for the experience, but Leslie doubted it was worth it to him. He had been terrified too, although he had probably made more from Leslie's tip than the snitch who had sold them out to the paparazzi.

  “What happened to my wrist?” She stared down at it. She remembered nothing of the doctor putting on the cast the night before. She had been heavily sedated.

  “It's broken,” Leslie said in a hoarse voice. There were circles under his eyes, and beard stubble on his face. “They said you should have it looked at when you get home. They didn't want to take you to the hospital last night, and risk it happening again. You had seven stitches in your hand,” he said with a look of anguish. “They gave you a tetanus shot. I didn't know if yours was current.” He had taken wonderful care of her, but he hadn't been able to protect her from the paparazzi nightmare, and he bitterly regretted that. It was everything she was afraid of in his life, and her only reason for hesitating about living with him. He had enlisted in that kind of life when he became an actor. She had done all she could to run away from it.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, and then looked at him with broken eyes. “How can you live like that?” It had scared her to death.

  “I have no choice. They would pursue me now even if I stopped working. It's the downside of my job.” And in her eyes, it was a big one.

  “What if we have children? What if they go after them like that?” Everything she thought about it was in her eyes. What Leslie saw there was raw terror, and he didn't blame her. It had been a terrifying night, one of the worst he'd been in. And he hated that it had happened when he was with her, and she had been the one to get hurt. He felt like a monster for putting her in a situation where it could happen.

  “I've always been very careful with Chloe,” he said quietly. But he had been careful with her too. It was just rotten luck that it had gotten so out of hand, and they'd been in such a vulnerable place. “I don't take Chloe to public events with me,” he explained. But this had only been dinner in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in a back alley in Venice. They both knew it could happen anywhere. “I'm sorry, Coco. I truly am. I don't know what else to say.” She nodded and lay silently in their bed for a while, and then finally she spoke again. All she could think of was the moment when one of them had yanked her ankle and she fell back into the gondola headfirst and tried to break her fall. She knew she would remember it forever.

  “I love you. I truly do,” she said sadly. “I love everything about you. You're the best, kindest man in the world. But I don't think I could live like that. I'd be terrified to go anywhere, and I'd be worried sick for our kids, and for you.”

  “It was a hell of a way to start,” he admitted ruefully. If ever she had needed confirmation of her fears, she had gotten it the night before.

  She burst into tears as he took her in his arms again. “I love you so much, but I'm so scared,” she sobbed in anguish. She kept remembering all those awful men out of control.

  “I know, baby, I know,” he crooned as he held her. “I understand.” He didn't want to, but he did. And he wanted to convince her otherwise but felt it wouldn't be fair to her. She had been very brave. But it was a lot to ask of anyone. Dealing with the paparazzi, and surviving them, was part of his life, but it didn't have to be part of hers. She had a choice. He didn't. And he only prayed now that she would still choose a life with him, when she calmed down and recovered.

  “Let's just get you safely on the plane to Paris now. We can talk about this again when I get home.” He didn't want her making any final decisions about him in the state she was in. He worried that the decision would be to end it with him. And she might get to that anyway.

  He called the director and told him what had happened the night before, and asked him to shoot around him that morning. The director said how sorry he was and asked if there was anything he could do to help. Leslie asked him to send over one of the hairdressers with an assortment of wigs in anything but Coco's color. He called the manager of the hotel after that, and asked for several security guards to accompany her on the motoscafo, and a police guard if necessary. But the hotel manager thought they could handle it themselves.

  Leslie got her into the shower. They had given her a cast that could get wet as long as she didn't soak it. He held her in his arms to make sure that she didn't stumble, slip, or faint. And then he helped her dress. He had already made a decision not to leave the hotel with her. He didn't want to do anything to draw attention to her. They would recognize Coco now, but most of all, they would be looking for him, or shots of them together. He didn't want to set her up for that, and was going to say goodbye to her at the hotel, and let her leave alone with the security guards from the Gritti. It was a sad end to their trip. And he couldn't help wondering if he'd ever see her again as he helped her dress. She had packed her bags the night before, so there was nothing for her to do except put on her jeans, a sweater, and her sheepskin coat.

  The hairdresser from the set arrived as soon as Coco was dressed. Leslie sat her down at the dressing table and saw her eyes in the mirror. He could see that she was still in shock.

  The hairdresser had brought several long blond wigs she had on hand, and a short black one. It was stylishly cut and full enough to cover all of Coco's long copper hair. She pinned it up for her, put a stocking cap on the way they did for films, and slipped the wig on her head. It was a shock seeing her with black hair, and in spite of himself Leslie smiled. She looked incredible, and it totally transformed her, which was what he wanted. She was unrecognizable in the black wig.

  “You look like a very young Elizabeth Taylor.” Coco only nodded. She didn't care what she looked like. She was heartbroken to be leaving him, and she hated what she had learned about his life. They had survived the rumors in the fan magazine, and the bogus affair with his costar. But it was much harder to overlook the nightmare she had lived through with him the night before.

  Leslie thanked the hairdresser and she left, and he stood looking at Coco. “What can I say to you? I love you, Coco. But I don't want to ruin your life. I know how much you hate all this.”

  She smiled sadly at him. “One day at a time, I guess,” she said, feeding his own words back to him, and he smiled.

  “I wish I could leave with you. Please don't run away from me now. We'll deal with this together.” He knew she had every reason to end it with him now, and he wouldn't blame her if she did. But he desperately hoped she wouldn't. He had changed her ticket home to first class as a gift from him. He wanted her to travel back in comfort, and had been startled that she had traveled coach on the way over. At least now she could sleep all the way home. He felt it was the least he could do for her.

  “All I know is that I love you. I need to think about the rest,” Coco said sadly, and he nodded, knowing it was the best they could do for now. She still looked badly shaken, and he knew her arm must hurt. It had been a terrifying experience for both of them, especially for her. And she was the one who had gotten injured. The thought of it made him feel sick.

  There was a knock at the door, and the security guards were outside, waiting for her. There were four big burly men, and a bellman to carry her bags. He took them downstairs to the motorboat waiting outside the service entrance. She was going out the back way, as they had done in Florence. Leslie had to do that often.

  He took her in his arms then and held her there, and for a moment he said nothing. He just wanted to feel her warmth against his chest, and remember every minute detail of her face. “Just know that
I love you, and I understand whatever happens.” He was afraid that it was over with her. It was written in her eyes as she looked back at him and nodded.

  “I love you too.” And then she added awkwardly, “I'll never forget Venice… I know that sounds ridiculous after last night. But I've never been so happy in my life. It was perfect until last night.”

  “Hang on to that,” he said, daring to be hopeful, in spite of his fears. “Take care of your wrist, and don't forget to have it looked at when you get home.” She nodded, and kissed him ever so gently on the lips.

  “I love you,” she said one last time, and then walked out of his suite and closed the door behind her. Leslie felt as though someone had just ripped his heart out and broken it to bits.

  Chapter 17

  Coco felt numb and dazed all the way back to San Francisco. She thought of calling him from Paris between flights, but she knew he'd be on the set by then, and working, so she didn't. And the flight back to San Francisco seemed endless. Her wrist ached, and she had a headache from the night before. Her whole body felt as though it had been jolted badly. Her back was sensitive from the bruise. And all she wanted to do was sleep. She didn't want to think about anything or talk to anyone. And every time she fell asleep, she had nightmares. Not just about the paparazzi, but about Leslie. She knew she couldn't share his life with him. It was just too frightening and overwhelming. And twice when she woke up, she was in tears. She felt as though she had lost not only the man she loved, but her dreams. It was a terrible feeling.

  With the time difference, it was two o'clock in the afternoon when she got to San Francisco. It was eleven o'clock at night in Venice by then, but her cell phone was dead and she didn't call him.

  She got a porter to help her through customs and walked into the terminal almost blindly. She was going to take a cab back to Bolinas. She was too worn out to take a shuttle. And as she looked around on the sidewalk, she saw Liz hurrying toward her. Her flight had come in early and it never occurred to her that Liz was there for her. Coco was still too dazed to think.

  “Hi. Are you going somewhere?” Coco looked at her blankly as Liz looked her over with worried eyes.

  “Leslie called me. He told me what happened. I'm sorry Coco.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Coco said, as tears filled her eyes. “Jane was right. It's just too scary.”

  “It would be for most people,” Liz said compassionately. “He understands that. He loves you, and he doesn't want to screw up your life.” She didn't tell her that Leslie had been crying when he called her. He was terrified he had lost her forever. And from what Liz could see in her eyes, she had a strong suspicion that could be the case.

  “Why did that have to happen?” Coco said miserably. “Everything was so perfect before that. We had a wonderful time. I've never been happier in my life, and he's such a good person.”

  “I know he is. But this is part of his life too. Maybe it's better that you saw it. Now you know what you'd be dealing with.” It would help her make the right decision, one she could live with.

  “It's a terrible way to live,” Coco said, thinking of the moment the night before when she had fallen back into the boat. She couldn't get it out of her mind, and was completely shaken by it.

  Liz told her to sit on a bench and wait for her while she went to get the car, and she was back a few minutes later. Coco still looked dazed as the porter put her bags in the back of the car. “What did Jane say?” Coco asked glumly as they drove away from the airport.

  Liz glanced over at her from the driver's seat and then back at the road. “I didn't tell her. It's up to you what you want to say. She doesn't need to know about this, if you don't want her to.” Coco nodded, grateful to Liz for her kindness and discretion. “Being scared of paparazzi attacks doesn't make you a bad person. Any sane person would hate living like that. I'm sure he does too. It just happened to him. He doesn't have much choice in the matter.” Coco nodded. She knew it was true.

  “It's a terrible reason not to stay with someone you love,” Coco said, feeling guilty. She loved him. But she hated what came with his success and his life. She didn't want to be hiding and running and wearing wigs as she sneaked out the back door for the rest of her life. It was a miserable existence. And the furor in the eyes of the paparazzi the night before had been the most frightening thing she had ever seen. “I was afraid they were going to kill us,” she explained, and Liz nodded as Coco started to cry again. Liz realized that she was traumatized by what had happened.

  “Apparently so was Leslie. He feels terrible about it.”

  “I know,” Coco said softly. “He was wonderful to me after.”

  “We're going to the doctor, by the way.”

  “I don't want to. I just want to go home,” Coco said, sounding exhausted.

  “Leslie says you have to. They set your wrist without doing an X-ray. They were afraid to take you out of the hotel again. The paparazzi were still outside. So you have to get the wrist looked at and checked.” Coco nodded. She was too tired and upset to argue with her. Liz had made an appointment at an orthopedist she knew.

  They went to Laurel Village for the appointment. And the orthopedist confirmed that it was broken, and said they had done a fine job of setting it in Italy. He replaced the cast with an identical one, and an hour later they were on their way to the beach.

  “You don't have to take me home,” Coco said miserably, and Liz smiled at her.

  “I could let you walk, I guess, or hitch-hike. But what the hell, it's a nice day. It'll do me good to go to the beach.” For the first time in hours, Coco smiled.

  “Thank you for being nice to me,” she said softly, and then she remembered. “How's the baby?”

  “Growing every day. Jane looks fabulous, but it looks like it's going to be a big baby.” She was six months pregnant by then, although Coco was in no hurry to see her. She would see immediately that something terrible had happened on the trip, and Coco didn't feel up to discussing it with her. Only with Liz. Liz was more like the big sister she wished she'd had, and never did.

  Coco fell asleep in the car on the way to the beach, and Liz woke her gently when they were outside her cottage. Coco started, looked around, confused for a minute, and then looked at her house sadly. She wished she were back in Venice with him, and that the end had been different. For the first time ever, she didn't want to be in Bolinas. And she was afraid she could no longer be with him. It was a terrible situation for her.

  “Come on, I'll take you in.” Liz carried her bags, and Coco unlocked the door. They hadn't stopped to pick up Sallie, but Liz had said she didn't mind keeping her for a few more days. Coco had enough to cope with right now with her wrist. All Liz had said to Jane was that she'd had an accident in Italy and broken her wrist.

  “Thank you for picking me up at the airport,” Coco said as she hugged her. “I was a mess. I guess I still am.”

  “Get some sleep. You'll feel better tomorrow. And don't try to figure it all out now. You'll know what to do.” Coco nodded, and Liz left.

  Coco walked into her bedroom and put on her old faded pajamas. It was five o'clock in Bolinas and two in the morning in Venice. All she wanted to do now was sleep. She didn't even want to eat. It was too late to call Leslie, but she didn't want to anyway. She didn't know what to say to him. And maybe Liz was right, she thought to herself, as she got under the covers. She could figure it out later. Right now, all she wanted to do was try to forget what had happened and sleep.

  Chapter 18

  Leslie called Coco the day after she got home, to see how she was, and check on her wrist. He didn't tell her, but he had already called Liz the night before after Coco got back, at four in the morning for him. She told him they'd been to the doctor and they'd put another cast on. She said that Coco looked dazed and beaten up, but she was doing all right. She suggested he let the dust settle a little and give it some time. But he wanted Coco to know that he was thinking of her, so he called her the next day hims
elf, from his trailer on the set. He said he missed her terribly and apologized again for what had happened.

  “It's not your fault,” Coco tried to comfort him when he called her. But he could hear something different in her voice, as though she had already backed away. “How's the movie going?” she asked, trying to change the subject. She felt worse after the flight, but had gotten up anyway. Erin couldn't work for her that day, and she didn't want to let her clients down. The doctor said she could work if she felt up to it, but he didn't recommend it.

  “It went pretty well today. Madison blew all her lines yesterday. But so did I, so I guess we were an even match.” He couldn't think straight after Coco left. His heart and mind had left with her. “I'm still hoping we make it home by Thanksgiving.” They would have been there for seven weeks by then. He wanted to come and see her after that, but he didn't dare say it. He could hear how shaken she still was, and so was he. There were pictures of them all over the European papers. He looked like a madman, trying to protect her, and she looked wide-eyed and terrified. There was even one of her as she fell back into the boat, headfirst. He could hardly stand looking at the photographs, and it just made him miss her more. So did talking to her. “Try to take it easy for a couple of days. You had a hell of a jolt to your system the other night.” And he suspected she'd be shaken up for a while, and have post-traumatic stress.

  “I'm fine,” she said, feeling like a robot. It tore her heart out to talk to him too. She was more in love with him than ever after the trip to Italy, but the paparazzi attack had convinced her that she wasn't strong enough to deal with what he went through. It was no way for her to live. “I'm on my way to work,” she said, as she crossed the bridge while talking to him. Their time together in Venice felt like a lifetime away to her, and to him too.

  “Call me when you want to talk to me,” he said sadly. “I don't want to pressure you, Coco.” He wanted to give her time to breathe. Liz had suggested it would be a good idea. The trauma had been severe for Coco.