Page 75 of From LA to London, With Love

Chris either didn’t notice or didn’t care, his eyes firmly trained on mine as he caught his breath. I froze on the spot, my legs like jelly, blood pounding in my ears.

“Sophie, I’m so sorry.” He paused, taking another deep breath, before the words started spilling out. “I totally screwed up. On my birthday, you left your phone at my place. I saw an email pop up on your screen from a journalist saying they’d received the Chris Trent photos, and I assumed, like Vanessa, you’d sold compromising photos of me—naked and smothered in chocolate—to a paper. In shock, I wasn’t thinking straight and I ran. It wasn’t until Dad reached out to me and mentioned that a journalist friend had helped you look for him that I realized what had happened. I should have trusted you and trusted the feeling in my gut that said you would never do that to me.”

He paused to catch his breath. I stared at him, in shock. I didn’t know what to think. There was relief that it had all been a misunderstanding and that I knew why he’d left. But why the fuck had he thought I’d sell photos of him to the media? A sudden rush of anger, forceful and hot, threatened to overwhelm me. He didn’t know me at all if he thought I’d do something like that. Jenny mentioned he’d had some trust issues after what he’d been through with his father, and more recently Vanessa, but his reaction seemed extreme.

He kept going, panting, looking at me with sad puppy dog eyes that could give Alfie a run for his money, and some of my anger dissipated.

“It was just unforgivable for me to leave you and Elliot without an explanation, inflicting the same pain on you that my father inflicted on me and Mom. I understand if you never want to see me again, but I love you, I love Elliot, and I want to spend the rest of our lives together. Please, will you give me a second chance?” His voice cracked with emotion.

Torn between anger, disappointment, and relief, I thought back to the photos Julie had shown me of him staring adoringly at his father and to the photos that had been leaked last year, humiliating him. I thought about Chris’s speech at Pride House, his willingness to be auctioned off for a good cause, and the secret donation he’d made. I remembered all the fun, all the adventures, we’d had together since we’d met. And my heart softened. I couldn’t throw that all away without a fight. But at the same time…

I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice to almost a whisper so the onlookers couldn't hear. “If we weren’t being watched and filmed right now, I would be giving you a piece of my mind.”

Worry flashed over Chris’s face, and he looked around, registering our audience for the first time.

“But I don’t want that to be captured for eternity, so that can wait until we’re in private.” I took in a shaky breath. “The last few days have been some of the worst of my life. We’ll—you’ll—need to do a lot of work to rebuild trust in our relationship. You have to promise that you will never leave me without talking to me first.” I swallowed, my tone softening. “But I’m willing to give it a go, if you are.”

Chris’s face transformed into a relieved smile. “Yes! Of course, I’ll do whatever it takes. And I promise I will never leave you. Period.”

I let out a strange noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, as Chris enveloped me in his arms. His lips warm against mine, his beard grazing my face. I shut my eyes, breathing in his scent, which was more sweat than cedar for once. God, I’d missed this.

With impeccable timing, Elliot started clapping his hands, a new skill he’d learned recently and liked to practice when bored. The onlookers started to applaud and cheer as well. We suddenly became aware of our surroundings again.

We looked at each other, startled, and then began to laugh.

“The Castle?” Chris asked, reaching for my hand.

“Yes, please,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHRIS

SIX MONTHS LATER

“THIS IS MORE hideous than I imagined. I wish I’d brought my sunglasses from the car, it’s blindingly white.”

Sophie looked horrified as she stepped into the mansion. Elliot, who was in Sophie’s arms, rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to his new surroundings.

I chuckled. “I warned you. At least we’ll never have to come back here again after this.”

We were visiting LA to pack up my house so I could finally sell it. I couldn’t wait to see the last of it. Although, with Sophie and Elliot by my side, it wasn’t as bad as I’d remembered. It seemed surreal that they were here, with me. It really brought home how much my life had changed in the past year, especially the last six months since our reunion on the Heath.

The videos of me running up Parliament Hill and asking for Sophie’s forgiveness had gone viral. Thankfully, the onlookers’ phones hadn’t picked up much of what I’d said. You could just make out the words “I love you” if you turned up the volume and listened carefully. While they weren’t the most flattering videos of me—I looked sweaty, disheveled, and like I hadn’t slept for days, which I hadn’t—I didn’t care. Hopefully, people would remember me as the doofus who lost it on Hampstead Heath, declaring his love for his incredible girlfriend, rather than for the dick pics, which I’d mostly forgotten about now.

When we got back to the Castle, Sophie had given me a piece of her mind. I didn’t blame her. She had every right to be pissed off. The entire episode was a huge wakeup call for me. Since then, I’d been seeing a therapist to help work through my issues, become a better partner and a better role model for Elliot. Apart from that, all I could do was turn up every day and be there for Sophie and Elliot, show them how much I cared about them, and hopefully regain her trust. It seemed to be working—Sophie and Elliot had finally moved into the Castle with me a few months ago, and I was the happiest I’d ever been.

We dumped our bags in one of the blindingly white bedrooms, and a few hours later, we were all sitting on the floor, Elliot playing with an empty box, and Sophie, Jenny, and me sorting through my stuff, deciding what to ship to London and what to donate to charity.

Sophie pulled out an envelope with my name written on it.

“What’s this?”

“A letter from Vanessa. She gave it to me after the whole scandal. I couldn’t bring myself to open it at the time, and I’d completely forgotten about it. Now, I’m more intrigued to know what she had to say than anything else.” I reached for it and ripped it open.

I read it quickly, my eyes widening.

“Oh shit.”