He reached up with their joined hands and rubbed his forehead. “Can we talk about the rest of this some other time?”
“Okay.” Carly tried to pull her hand away but he held on, closing his fingers around hers. “Your turn.”
Carly took a breath. Fair was fair. “Arnaud was a top fashion photographer in Europe. He was known for telling a story with his photographs. Sometimes in a single frame. His specialty was tasteful eroticism, posing nudes where the merchandise seemed a beautiful afterthought. Female and male models threw themselves at him. Having him do a shoot with you could make a career.”
She watched Noah’s expression go remote. “The ones he took of you are exceptional.”
“That happened later. First time I was hired to be in his photos, I refused to undress for him because he wouldn’t explain why I needed to be naked. I lost the gig. It was a big job. My agent was furious, and dropped me. Said I was unprofessional. You have to understand. No one said no to Arnaud. A few months later, we ran into one another on another assignment. He said my refusal intrigued him, and he had a proposal for me.” Her mouth curved up when Noah snorted his opinion of that. “Not that kind. Strictly business. He became my agent.”
He proposed using me in a spread intended for French Vogue. They said no. I was an unknown, and the labels were unimpressed. But Arnaud knew the value of his work. He offered to forego his fee if the spread failed. It was a huge success.” She smiled, remembering a happier time. After that, he used me in shoots that I hadn’t been booked for until he was hired. The lingerie modeling was a natural progression from that first series. I knew I could trust him not to take advantage.”
Noah watched her quietly. “You fell in love with him.”
“Oh yes. He was ten years older, and very worldly. I felt protected. When Arnaud was working he was happy, focused, intense. He didn’t like downtime. When he had it, he went looking for stimulation.”
“Drugs.”
“Yes. It isn’t uncommon in that world.”
“What about you?”
“I had two wisdom teeth out at sixteen. They gave me a codeine-based painkiller. It made me feel like my heart was going to burst through my chest. Since then, I resist anything stronger than aspirin.”
He held her eyes, steady and without apology. “I had to ask.”
“You’re a cop.”
“Why did you marry him?”
“I didn’t, at first. I told him I couldn’t marry an addict. So, he went into a clinic in Switzerland and then spent six months staying clean. When we married, we agreed to leave the fashion world because it offered too much temptation. But sober, Arnaud struggled.” In embarrassment, she heard her voice break.
Noah reached out and cupped her chin. “What happened?”
“A relapse. So trite.” Her free hand waved the thought away. “It had been a year and we were running out of money when I was offered a weeklong job in Sweden. He encouraged me to take it.” She smiled, but it was only the tightening of muscles. “While I was gone he ran into some old friends. The coroner said it was common for relapsed addicts to forget their tolerance for drugs had reset to lower doses.”
Noah gave her hand a gentle tug. It was all the invitation she needed. She climbed across the console, letting him pull her into his lap. He turned her so that her back was to his chest. His hands on her asked nothing, just offered the warmth and strength and protection of his body enfolding her.
They sat that way for several minutes before he spoke. His lips were against her ear, so he whispered. But his tone was matter-of-fact now, the pain gone to ground.
“The day of Andy’s six-week check-up, Jillian announced that she wanted a divorce. That’s when things got ugly. Even though she made no secret of the fact that she didn’t want to be a mother, she demanded a massive settlement in order to waive custody. Everything I had was the price of keeping Andy. I emptied my bank accounts, my retirement plans. Sold my house, my car, turned everything I could get my hands on into cash. It all went to her so she’d sign away her parental rights. Best money I ever spent.”
“Oh, Noah.” Carly leaned back into him, trying to hug him from the inside of his embrace. That’s why he lived with his parents. Why he was so protective of Andy. Why he was the last person on earth to opt out of life.
“There’s something else. I think I’d have handled the rest just fine with Andy. Folks divorce all the time. But about eleven months ago Jillian died of alcohol poisoning. She’d gone back to partying the way she had when we met. She mixed a bunch of pills and booze and went to bed. Never woke up. How do you tell your son his mother died like that?”
Carly reached back and touched his face. “I don’t know what to say.”