How could I even mention everything that happened in a quick catch-up conversation? I met the love of my life and his best friends. I rode in limos with celebrities, stayed at their incredible home, and then found out everything was a lie and that I was a laughingstock.
“Then what’s going on?”
“Just a little bummed it’s over I guess,” I settled on.
“Imagine my surprise when I saw pictures of you with Emma Flynn, Harrison Evans, and Charlie Downing all over the internet.”
I winced. I had completely blocked out all of that, maybe hoping on some level that if I just ignored it, it would go away.
“You looked stunning, by the way,” she said. “And happy.”
I let out a breath between puffed cheeks and looked at Gail. “I don’t even feel like that person. It feels so far removed from reality. Like it was all some … dream.”
“I can’t even imagine. Are you—do you want to take more time off? You can if you need to. Keep working on the book?”
My head snapped to her. “No. I—No. I’m fine. It’s better to be here and stay busy. My apartment is just depressing.”
“I heard about Pete. The whole office did. Can’t say I’m especially tore up about that. I know it’s my fault that you even considered him to begin with and I’m sorry. He ended up being just so intense. He’s been miserable to be around since that trip. His boss sent him to Omaha on an unnecessary sales call just to get him out of our hair. You don’t need to worry about him.”
“Oh. Okay.” That was good to know. “Thank you,” I added.
But again, I hadn’t even been thinking about Pete. I’d been thinking about the complete lack of emails from Charlie. I spent an embarrassing amount of time during the rest of my vacation reviewing the photos of us splattered all over the internet. We looked so happy. Wewereso happy. How had it only lasted a few days, and yet my entire perspective of what happiness meant had shifted?
And why hadn’t he reached out? The only emails I received were the ones from Sally, futilely pushing a show that neither of us wanted to do. I missed Emma and Harrison too, though I didn’t really have a right to. I would never see Emma again. Or Harrison. The trip was a break from reality. I tried to focus on being thankful for the experience, but now, when I listed what I was grateful for, it felt like empty mantras.
Why hadn’t Charlie emailed me back? Was he okay?
I was still angry. I handled the fact that he’d kept his identity a secret okay but then to learn he’d been manipulating me behind the scenes … It was like I now saw our whole relationship from a totally different point of view. And I didn’t like the story it told.
I promised myself that after Pete, I wouldn’t let a man derail me. Not that this felt the same, but it was still me losing sight of what I wanted. I didn’t get an agent magically. That was just one route to accomplishing my dream. So what that it didn’t work out?
I heard RC rally me.
Come on, woman, you’re not giving up so easy, are you?
I needed time to myself. I needed to get my head on away from Pete or Charlie. Away from TF and Emma and Harrison.
Prior to them, prior to any of this, it had always been about the writing. No more distractions or fantasies. Time I focused on that.
* * *
Charlie
Agata was unusuallyquiet when I returned home the last week. We worked silently around each other. Occasionally, she’d sigh loudly, set down her rag, and turn to me like she was about to speak, but then she’d shake her head and get back to work. She didn’t even yell at me. I almost wished that she would.
I was back in my bubble. I had escaped the garbage of Hollywood, but now the Vicarage felt too big. Too cold. Too lonely.
The chickens brought me some comfort. I went out to check on them, avoided being pecked, and collected their eggs. Running from Nugget was my new morning workout routine.
I responded to fan mail. There had been a surge since the stories from the reunion leaked. I didn’t think too much about it. I replied as I always did and didn’t comment on the questions about my relationship status.
I hadn’t replied to Kate’s last email. She said to let her know “if I needed her.” Well, I was doing just fine.
Sally sent the paperwork for the show, but I hadn’t even opened the contract. After Kate left, I explained to Sally that our segment was done, and we were going back home. Sally insisted that we both needed time to think about the offer and we’d come around. Sally really did live in la-la land if she thought Kate and I would ever agree to that show. I was never returning to LA. I was never leaving this estate again.
I existed. This had been the original plan, so why did I feel so bloody empty? Because I let myself have hope. I let myself hope that Kate would want to join me on my little island of self-pity and leave her entire life behind.
What had I expected? That Kate would just drop everything to come live with me? She essentially told me her writing was more important than anything. I should have just stuck to the plan. No. I should have never gone to LA. I should have never even sent her that bloody email to begin with.
