He doesn’t question whether I’m telling the truth. It’s obvious. These are things he never shared with me. The only explanation is Stella. And now Terrence knows too.
“Fucking Stella,” he hisses, then throws his hands in the air.
“You know what? This is on me. I probably said shit I shouldn’t have when I was drunk. I can’t blame anyone but myself. I just hope Jay doesn’t find out that people are talking.”
Tom stares at the horizon.
“This is fucked up. I knew she had a thing for Terrence, but seriously? Is that enough to sell me out? To someone she’s known for days?”
“I know, I’m so sorry, Tom.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Stella and Terrence in the lounge. She’s whispering in his ear. They both look over. She points at us, they whisper some more.
Privacy is an illusion here. Everyone’s watching. Everyone’s talking. I can feel it.
I think about suggesting somewhere quieter, but that would only feed the rumours. And yet sitting here while Tom is visibly shaken is doing the same.
“Want to go to the meditation garden?” I ask. “We’ll have more privacy without, you know…toomuch privacy.”
“Yeah, fine.”
A few minutes later, we each grab a yoga mat from the rack and head for the waterfall. The crash of water against stone is loud enough to hide a conversation.
We sit down facing each other. Close, but not close enough. No touching. No kissing. Not with the cameras.
“Might be best if you check out tomorrow morning,” I say. “Before the weekend.”
Tom rubs his eyes and shrugs. “I’ll need to find a place. There’s a party at some beach club, and Calvin’s doing his usual before-and-after bullshit. I don’t want to crash there with a bunch of drunk people.”
“We could go to Villa Crumble Aparté if you want. You can check out Monday and move in with Cal after the weekend.”
“Couldn’t have planned it better.”
He gives a tired smile, and it almost makes me forget where we are, makes me want to push him into the grass and kiss every freckle on his face.
That face settles back into a grumpy scrunch. He’s still thinking about Stella.
Maybe it’s good to make hay while the sun’s out. I need some answers.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, love. Anything.”
Anything.I’m not sure that word means what he thinks it does.
“The fire at your family estate,” I say, choosing my tone with care. “Do you like to tell me what happened?”
His lashes lower. He picks at a blade of grass, body language suggesting he’s considering opening up.
“I want to tell you the truth, but I’ll keep it short. And I don’t want to talk about details or feelings.”
“Understood. And whatever you say stays between us, remember?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
He tosses the strand of grass aside and takes a deep breath.
“Jay, Eli, Calvin, and I weren’t atHeatherfellwhen the fire happened. We were in Amsterdam in a meeting with our label.”
