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NICK
As I drive back to my place in Malibu, I’m still in a state of shock and trying to understand what the hell just happened. My mom may have let it slip about the inheritance, but it was my responsibility to tell Savannah. This is all my fault. I should’ve told her about the money the minute it stopped mattering.
Because it did.
The money took a backseat to her and all of the feelings she’s been stirring up inside of me. At some point on this insane journey, I fell in love with her.
It’s the only explanation for why I’m so upset right now.
The only reason you married me was so you could claim your inheritance. Please, stop insulting my intelligence by trying to convince me that you actually care.
I do care. I care so fucking much and I have no idea what to do now.
Back at the beach house, Paul and I walk down the shoreline and all I can think about is the hurt on Savannah’s face. I handled the situation all wrong and instead of fighting for her, I walked away.
I’ve never had to fight for anyone in my life, I realize. Women always fawned over me, sought me out. When it came to sex and relationships, I guess I’ve put in minimal effort. Until Savannah.
Why did you dare me to marry you, Nick? Tell me, dammit.
But, I couldn’t. I froze up and the words stuck in my throat, refusing to come out.
Again, I ponder over her question. The question that I’ve been asking myself since that night in Vegas, but haven’t quite had an answer to until now. Yes, I chalked up the quickie marriage to wanting my inheritance. But, I always knew in the back of my mind that there was more to it.
And, now I know.
The moment I laid eyes on Savannah Hart at the restaurant, I felt my heart beat again. It had stopped years earlier when I saw my dad break my poor mom’s heart. He literally destroyed her by leaving her for another woman. All of my beliefs in love, marriage and romance dried up and scattered in the wind when I walked in on my mom, curled up on the bed, sobbing her eyes out. “Don’t ever fall in love,” she had whispered. “If things don’t work out, it’ll destroy you.”
I never forgot that and vowed to follow her advice. Even after she found love again with John, I still kept my walls up and never allowed any woman to get beyond them. When my modeling career launched into the stratosphere at 18, I made up the first two rules that I’ve followed for nearly the past 25 years: Never get emotionally-involved and keep it purely physical because it’s imperative to be able to walk away and not look back. And, always call the shots, especially in bed, because relinquishing control leads to vulnerability.
Then, when I began working behind the camera, I made my third rule which is to not mix business with pleasure and never sleep with the models.
By following my rules, I closed myself off to hurt. I guess I also closed myself off to living. And, most assuredly, to love.
And, then, Savannah came into my life with her bright blue eyes and shy smile. She was a breath of fresh air and she intrigued me. When pushing her away didn’t work, I tried the opposite approach.
And, wound up married 24 hours later.
She snuck up on me like a thief in the night, stealing my cold heart and warming it up to feelings again. To the point where now I can’t walk away. She also managed to usurp control in my life and in the bedroom.
Now, I’m exposed and powerless.
Ironically, I don’t regret a thing. Except for not being able to communicate my thoughts and feelings to her earlier. It’s so hard for me, though, because this is all new and unexpected.
“Shit,” I say and shove a hand through my hair. I toss the ball and Paul races after it, kicking up wet sand. It’s time to explain everything to Savannah even though it means opening myself up to rejection and heartbreak. The very things I’ve gone out of my way to avoid my entire life.
Sonofabitch.
It’s not going to be easy. I’m going to have to gather my thoughts and practice because if I don’t get the words out perfectly, she may decide this whole thing was just a mistake and it’s better to move on than waste more time with my emotionally-stunted ass.
“Paul!” I clap my hands and whistle and he runs back, ball in his mouth. “C’mon, buddy. We need to come up with a damn good speech to get your Momma back.”
Paul gives a woof.
Back at the beach house, I sit on the couch with a beer, Paul at my feet chewing a bone, and realize how empty it feels without Savannah and her vivacious presence. She lights up the room and now that she’s not here, it just seems dark and cold. But, I’m not going to waste time being depressed. This isn’t over yet. I’m going to fight for my girl.
I spend the next three hours drinking and writing my thoughts down in a notebook. It’s extremely important to me that this apology is perfect. I need her to understand me and forgive me. When I finally think I’ve poured out every single thought in my head, I lift the notebook and focus on Paul.
“Paul,” I say. The dog is half asleep, but manages to open sleepy eyes and look up at me. “I need to practice, okay? Do me a favor and listen to my groveling.”
