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They spent the afternoon killing time, sightseeing in Lusaka. And then the next morning Alexandra and Wolf boarded the British Airways jet and headed home.
Back in California they returned to Wolf’s Malibu house. After Africa, the house felt strange, too big, too new, too modern. But they hadn’t been home even a day before Joy started calling.
Alexandra told herself they were just phone calls. She told herself to let it go, not to care. She remembered Wolf’s explanations, remembered how he’d seemed sincere, and it worked. At first.
But the phone calls didn’t stop. She’d phone him on his mobile or at the house and she’d be crying. She’d be inconsolable. Wolf would take the phone into his office at the back of the house and have endless conversations with her.
Wolf told Alexandra that Joy was upset about the film being shelved. She was worried she’d alienated them. She worried that the public blamed her for any problems in Wolf and Alexandra’s marriage.
It was always on the tip of Alexandra’s tongue to say, “Yes, she does cause problems.” But she knew it’d only antagonize Wolf, so she bit her tongue and didn’t complain.
But the weeks passed and the calls continued and Wolf grew more distracted. They still made love, but in some ways Wolf wasn’t quite there anymore. It wasn’t that the pleasure was gone, but the emotional intensity had changed. Faded.
And it tormented her, it really did.
After making love one night, Wolf fell into an immediate deep sleep, and after lying there sleepless, Alexandra finally got up. She went to the kitchen to get something to eat, and Wolf’s mobile phone was there on the counter. She hated this phone, she thought. It might as well be Joy’s phone.
Glancing down, she saw he had a missed call.
Joy, probably.
And suddenly desperate to know just how bad this was, Alexandra clicked on his phone’s call list and scanned through the incoming calls from just today. New York, New York, New York, all the same number. Joy’s number.
She scrolled down through the entire in-box. Joy. Joy. Joy. Joy.
She clicked on his out-box, checked numbers dialed.
Joy. Joy. Joy. Joy.
Covering her mouth, she sat down on a stool at the counter and tried to keep her scream from coming out.
She was losing him. She was losing him and she couldn’t seem to stop it, change it, do anything about it.
“Alexandra.” It was Wolf standing in the kitchen doorway.
She couldn’t even turn to look at him or he’d see the suffering in her face. “I think we’re in trouble here, Wolf. Things aren’t going so well.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head and pushed his phone back and forth on the counter. “Talking’s not helping. In fact, when you and I talk, things just seem to get worse.”
He cleared his throat. “In bed, earlier, everything was fine.”
She almost laughed. In bed. Of course a man would think that way. And then she closed her eyes to keep the hurt in. “I’m running out of steam, Wolf. I’m thinking this isn’t going the way it needs to go.” She swallowed around the lump filling her throat. “Not for me. Nor you.”
“It has been hard, Alex. But it’ll get easier soon.”
“Why? Is Joy seeing a doctor? Taking a new antidepressant? What makes you think any of this will ever change?”
“She’s working to fix her problems, yes.”
Alexandra slammed her hands onto the counter. “But aren’t we all? My God, Wolf, what about me? Can’t you see I’m having problems? Can’t you see I’m hurt? Can’t you see I need you, too? Maybe even need you more?”
“Alex.”
“No.” She dashed away the tears. “Please, please don’t do that anymore. Don’t sigh like I’m the difficult one. Don’t make me feel like I’m being unreasonable to want to have my husband’s attention.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, you have me?”
“All right, then answer me this.” She balled her fist against the cool counter. “If Joy called you tomorrow and said she needed you, you’d go.” She lifted her head, looked at him. “Wouldn’t you?”
“I’d help any friend that needed me.”
“Then help me,” she whispered, her gaze holding his. “Pick me.”
He’d frozen in place. She hadn’t said the actual words yet, hadn’t even planned on saying the words, but suddenly it was there, the nuance.
She was about to draw the battle lines. Demand his loyalty. Define the boundaries.
“What are you saying?” he asked, expression shuttered.
What was she saying? she wondered. Did she really know what she was saying? Her thoughts spun. She struggled to gain control before the situation got out of hand. She was tired, worn down, emotional. Did she really want to do this now?
“Alexandra?” he prompted.
“Maybe it’s time we settled things once and for all,” she said, so cold on the inside that she felt like a puppet, oddly detached. “Maybe we should just say what needs to be said.”
His expression grew increasingly wary. “And what needs to be said?”
Her eyes burned. She swallowed. “Who do you want? Joy or me?”
“Alexandra …”
“Wolf, I need to know. If you were to pick only one of us, would it be her or me?”
“It doesn’t work like that,” he said impatiently. “You’re my wife. And Joy, she’s … she’s a friend and troubled, and the situation’s complicated.”
Complicated?
Why was his love so complicated? How could it be so complicated? Love wasn’t complicated for her. She knew who she loved and she knew why she loved and she knew that as long as Wolf was in her life he was her priority. It was as complicated—or simple—as that.
“I’ve put you first,” she said flatly. “From the beginning I’ve put you first. Now do the same for me—”
“Alexandra.”
“Wolf, I can’t handle this anymore.”
He looked at her so long she felt her heart slow and her insides gel. He looked at her with pain and exhaustion, sorrow and frustration. And she realized he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. Wasn’t going to give her what she needed.
“I’ll pack my things,” he said quietly. “I have a trip to Venice in a few
days. I’ll just leave early.”
“So that’s your decision?” she choked out, chilled.
“I’m sick of the pressure, Alexandra. I can’t be who or what you want me to be and I’m worn out from trying, too.”
Wolf drew a suitcase out from the walk-in closet and began to pack. She watched him in stunned silence. He was packing so fast he was almost throwing clothes into the bag.
“You’re really going to go?” she whispered, sinking down onto the foot of the bed. She could barely breathe as she watched him pack. Her pulse raced and her heart squeezed up into her throat.
He shoved his leather wash kit into the bag. “I didn’t get to where I am by playing nice and lining up straight and following rules. But at the same time, I’m loyal and honorable and I protect those I love.”
“Do you love Joy?”
Wolf paused, head lifting, dark eyes finding hers. “What is it with you and Joy? She’s a bloody alcoholic. Alcoholism is a disease and you’re damn lucky not to have it.”
His words only made her ache more. She swallowed the lump in her throat, swallowed back the hurt. He was packing shoes now, a belt, and he’d pulled his tuxedo out and was slipping that into a hanging garment bag.
“Wolf.”
“What?” he snapped, zipping the garment bag closed.
She blinked back the tears threatening to fall. She wished he’d turn around, wished he’d at least look at her. He didn’t.
She slid off the bed and gently, lightly, put her hand on his back, feeling the taut muscles, the tension in his spine. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not so sure you are,” he said coldly as he grabbed his bag and walked away.
She watched him in disbelief. He was leaving. Like that. No kiss, no touch, nothing warm or reassuring.
What the hell had happened? Since Zambia Wolf had been different. Changed.
Alexandra hurried after Wolf, trailing him down the staircase to the hall below. “Is it over then?” Alexandra cried as he reached to open the garage door. “Are we finished?”
