Someone I Used to Know

chapter Four

Adley


“You’re not thinking of rejoining the world of size 0’s, are you?” Cam asked across the table. His plate of pancakes was almost gone, while I’d been pushing the same amount of scrambled eggs around with my fork for the past fifteen minutes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, your body’s always been great, but these boobs you’ve acquired are topnotch.”

I flung a biscuit at him. It missed by an inch and hit his stainless steel refrigerator instead. At least he’d have to clean it up. He deserved it. He knew I wasn’t a morning person.

“Excuse me, I was told at fifteen that I had the prototypical body to be a professional ballerina. I was supposed to be thin. It was for art not vanity…And I’m barely a size 4 now!”

“And I suppose that’s not vanity either?” he shot back with the same smirk that had been driving me crazy for years.

“Fabulous metabolism.” Even if my throwing arm was off, my glare hit him hard. “Besides, I’m not dieting. I’m distracted.”

The silence that had become our third roommate finally made its appearance at the table, and I repressed a sigh, not wanting to be the first one to call attention to it. It was obvious that there was something bothering him. Certain things I would do or say, seemingly unrelated and random, would send his brow into a squished furrow and his eyes into concentrated distraction.

The problem was that I couldn’t call him out about it without drudging up my own issues. Admitting how affected I’d been the day before helping Madeline, would be like opening Pandora’s Box. There was just no way to deal with one issue without bumping into all of the other ones that had become stowed away between us, gathering dust.

So we’d reached a stalemate, and for the time being, settled into an unspoken resolve to dance around the issues at hand. Hence, our newest, frequent visitor: awkward silences.

“We should probably head out if we want to beat traffic,” he said clearing his throat.

I nodded and helped him with the dishes. We worked efficiently together, in the same way as two people who had done the same job together many times before.

Leaving the kitchen, I headed through the living room and up the stairs, to the room I’d claimed as my own. Other than Cam’s master bedroom, there were three guest rooms (one of which he’d turned into a second library). I’d picked the room farthest from Cam’s, relying on distance, as I always had, to protect me from things I didn’t want to deal with.

My room remained as completely impersonal as it had the day I’d arrived. Unless you opened the closet or one of the three dresser drawers I’d taken hostage, you’d never know a person inhabited it. I grabbed a sweatshirt in case I ended up on soundstage three (it was freezing all the time), and went to meet Cam in the garage.

After he’d returned the Range Rover, we were back to driving his real car. It was dark gray, foreign, and something I would never expect him to own, but it drove like a dream and gave me a chance to sit back and relax during our daily rides.

“That’s where Declan lives, right?” I asked spotting a stretch limo parked in the circular driveway of the house I’d seen him enter after dropping me off after the party at Georgia’s.

“Part of the perks of being a movie star…The studio rents it for him. The limo service is built into his contract too. I don’t think he even has an American driver’s license.”

I leaned my seat all the way back and closed my eyes, not willing to spend a second thinking about the Australian. It was going to be hard enough surviving the rest of production now that I was going to willingly submit to helping Madeline. There was no room to suddenly decide Declan deserved the effort of my attentions as well.

Arriving at the lot, Cam and I separated; him going off to live his dream, and me walking into the lion’s den. It wasn’t a very fair trade if you asked me.

My feet dragged all the way up to the door of Madeline’s trailer, which was currently blocked by her boulder of a bodyguard.

“She’s been waiting on you.” His voice was as deep and gruff as I’d expected. It was also sprinkled with an exotic flavor that matched his Hawaiian decent.

I smiled widely. It was always a good idea to make friends with people who could destroy you with one swat of their arm.

Either Mr. Bodyguard wasn’t charmed, or he was seriously lacking in personality, because he ignored my gesture and turned to open the door.

“I’m Adley,” I told him, refusing to let him scare away my bright expression. And maybe I was procrastinating just a little bit too.

His round face gazed down at me as if he were bored with my mere presence. “I know.”

He stared at me. I stared at him. And the door stood open between us. Our stare off lasted a whole minute before Madeline interrupted us. I swear she had a built-in radar that detected my location at all times.

“Come on. We’ve got to be at hair and make-up in two minutes.” She skipped a greeting, in favor of a firm hold on my arm, as she tugged me away.

Her grip was so tight, I suspected she thought I might try and make a run for it. Shuffling through the everyday bustle of the back lot, I checked over my shoulder to find her bodyguard, along with the rest of her entourage, following behind us.

“I don’t think your bodyguard likes me very much,” I said in way of small talk. Maybe a little friendly conversation would earn me the right to my arm back.

“Who?” She powered on, barely showing acknowledgment of my observation. “Alfred?”

My feet stutter-stepped with surprise.

“His name is Alfred?” I choked on my laugh. It wasn’t exactly fitting for the giant of a man who looked more lethal than a loaded gun. “Does he double as your butler?”

Madeline stared at me blankly as I found amusement in my own joke. Apparently she wasn’t a Batman fan.

The area designated for hair and make-up was in a constant state of disarray. I’d avoided it thus far during my time on set, but since I had joined the legion of Madeline’s posse, I was dragged right into the middle of it.

There were three swiveling chairs like you found at a hairdresser’s on one side of the room, and four stations on the opposite wall, where every type, shade, and color of make-up could be found in organized squares on the long counter in front of the stations. The walls were covered in mirrors, and even though there was a partition erected in the far corner for quick changes, it seemed modesty wasn’t a problem for most actors.

I turned away quickly before I got a full frontal of Madeline who unashamedly slipped out of her top and into a smock for anyone to see.

“Don’t worry about Alfred,” one of Madeline’s lackeys told me.

The woman who spoke had dark, black hair and smooth skin that no amount of spray tan could ever grant me. Out of all of the entourage, she was definitely the closest to Madeline’s age, but I still guessed she was in her mid-twenties.

I glanced back to where Alfred had halted just outside the door to the room, looking more like a bouncer than a bodyguard for the moment, as he questioned anyone who was brave enough to try and enter.

“I’m guessing he’s not much of a people person,” It felt safe to say, since he was out of hearing distance.

“Oh no, Alfred is a big teddy bear. You should see him with my daughter. He’ll play Barbies with her until even I’m ready to pull their little blonde heads off.” She smiled warmly. “Alfred is just a little more selective with his trust than most people.”

That was something I understood all too well. I gave the big man one more once-over, deciding that by the end of the summer I’d break into his circle…or at least get a smile out of him.

“Fran!” Madeline’s familiar voice snapped. She was sitting in one of the chairs with her back to us, glaring through the mirror. “Quit distracting her. Adley, I need you.”

“It was nice to officially meet you, Fran.” I intentionally lingered. Madeline might have been Fran’s boss, but she wasn’t paying me.

Another member of the infamous entourage had arrived at Madeline’s side a step before me, taking up the only space left available where the hairdresser wasn’t working.

“The director stopped me earlier to gush over your performance yesterday. I told her about all the work we’ve been doing on emotional connectivity, and she agrees the power of your skill has improved greatly.” The older woman’s voice was light and fleeting, her words as quick as a chirping bird, with the same excitable flow. “I told you that our perseverance would pay off!”

I expected Madeline to call the white haired lady on her bullshit. Madeline’s improvement came from a better understanding of what drove the character, not whatever method-acting nonsense this lady was carrying on about. Instead the young redheaded actress remained stoic as she stared at her reflection, absorbing the woman’s words.

I learned right then and there to never underestimate Madeline Little’s drive. There was no task too outrageous, no bit of pride too large, and no line that she wouldn’t cross when it came to being the best actress she could.

“Thank you, Ms. Louna. We’ll work on my diction during the break I have after lunch,” Madeline told her acting coach, dismissing her, if not politely, then certainly efficiently.

I couldn’t help but wonder how much Ms. Louna got paid to feed off Madeline’s insecurities. Judging by the vintage Chanel suit I watched her walk away in, it was a pretty penny. I looked around the room, realizing that without Ms. Louna and with Alfred standing out of sight beyond the door, the only person left of Madeline’s people was Fran, who stood in the corner tapping away at her iPhone.

“Your crew is running a little thin today,” I observed conversationally. There wasn’t anywhere for me to sit, and I felt awkward standing, so I tried to prop myself up on the counter. The move scattered the hairdresser’s utensils in every direction, earning me a mean look from the heavily pierced woman. Great, I’d made another friend.

“If you’re referring to my mother, she’s stuck in legal all day negotiating the terms of my press junket. Rusty is only here in the afternoons to prepare my meals, and my life coach is in my trailer, narrowing down the list for my next project.” All her answers were matter of fact and so foreign to me, it was like she was speaking a different language.

I was temporarily mesmerized by the hairdresser’s skillful hands, as they quickly separated Madeline’s long, auburn locks into sections, before twirling them around a curling iron. The punk looking woman’s movements were so graceful and sure, they reminded me of dancing. As a ballerina, you’re expected to make the most painful, complicated skills look simple, like they’re as easy as floating through the air. If you’re really talented, you can even convince yourself that you’re flying. It was the best feeling in the world.

Unexpected and horrifying, a long forgotten burn of longing lit into me, reminding me that I’d never have that again.

Maybe that was the real reason I wanted to help Madeline. One of us deserved to get to keep our passion.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Adley Adair.” Declan swaggered over to the chair beside Madeline’s. He had a way of sprawling across things like he was trying to see how much space his body could take up. With a leg thrown over one arm and his body slouched low enough to prop his head on the back, I’d say he conquered the chair quite nicely.

“I don’t have time for your teasing today, Davies,” she told him seriously. “I’ve got a character to devour.”

And suddenly, her predatory gaze was back on me. Declan’s smile was amused, peppered with genuine warmth, and it was most certainly not directed at me. It made me question his sanity. Madeline was borderline psychotic, and he thought it was cute. She stalked me, and he lashed out at me for my lack of helpfulness. I was starting to believe there was something very wrong with Hollywood people.

“Don’t mind me, ankle biter.” His gray irises disappeared behind their lids, just as the same hair stylist I’d seen working on him before began to sculpt his dark, full hair. “Devour away. You won’t even know I’m here.”

My glower was so stout, I was sure he could feel it, even if his eyes were closed.

“I understand the basic initial attraction.” Madeline was never one to beat around the bush as she dove head first into my past. “Cameron was the bad boy, dark and damaged –.”

My laugh stopped her right in her overly passionate tracks.

“Have you met Cam?” I asked incredulously. “He’s the opposite of dark. If anything he’s got some hidden, never-ending light source that constantly powers him forward.”

“That’s impossible. Maybe he just buries all the darkness down really deep, but there is no way that you go through what he’s been through and come out with sunshine shining out your ass.” Her blunt words took no prisoners. “He was an orphan, for God’s sake. Being raised in the foster system alone would be enough to breed some rather large demons.”

I eyed Declan warily. He remained stoic in his position of false sleep, but I knew very well he was listening to every word I said. It made me even more jittery than normal.

“Look…I don’t know. Why is anybody attracted to anybody? He was older, handsome, and he had this carefree way about him, like everything was always going to be okay. I didn’t know the whole story of his past when I met him, but I knew enough to expect him to be a little rough around the edges…I guess I was intrigued by such a contradiction.”

Watching Madeline think when her face was unguarded, was like reading words right off a Jumbotron. There was so much expression in her features, and what it said didn’t speak well for me escaping her claws early today.

“So, that’s it?” It was clear she found my answer unsatisfactory from her tone. “You fell in love with him because you were intrigued by him?”

It had started out that way. I’d been so aware of him every moment after he got to our house. Almost all of our interactions had been in group settings with me, him, and Thomas or the whole family. There was no instant connection or love at first sight. There was just…awareness. Well, on my part. I had no idea if he’d even given me a second thought.

There was only one moment that truly stood out to me when thinking about that first Christmas we’d spent together.

On New Year’s Eve, I’d gone to a party with my friends at a club in Los Angeles. We’d gotten all dressed up, and I’d worn the pair of fire engine red Jimmy Choos I’d gotten for Christmas. I don’t even remember what Thomas and Cam did, probably just hung out with some of Thomas’ old high school buddies.

When I’d gotten back, it had been late, long after midnight. Cam was sitting on the little ledge outside of my brother’s second story window, where Thomas used to sneak out and smoke pot during high school.

“They’re not up there, you know.” My voice was quiet, but it carried up to him easily through the early morning air.

If he was startled by my presence on the ground below his perch, he didn’t show it. He just grinned in the way that showed off his dimples, and quirked an eyebrow up at my statement.

“I was just letting you know, in case you were looking for the stars. The only stars you’ll find here are in Hollywood, and if you ask me, those are overrated. I’d take the real thing any day…My parents, however, seem to enjoy our little life in the big city,” I said, explaining.

“I wasn’t searching for any stars; the ones in the sky or otherwise.”

“Then what are you doing up there?”

“Just…breathing.” He sighed peacefully, but it seemed to me he was trying to inhale the whole world at once. “You’re a dancer, right?”

I carelessly dropped my glittering clutch to the grass, and lifted my leg in a perfect arabesque. It was showing off and answering his question all at the same time.

“I went to a real ballet once. A professional company was in town, and they offered free tickets to anyone in the group home who wanted to go…I was like the only boy who went, but I used to do anything just to get out and do something. The girl – the ballerina – she was beautiful, even from all the way in the balcony, and she wore these red shoes –.”

“The Red Shoes. That’s the name of the Ballet.” My face lit up at the recognition of one of my favorite performances.

My excitement mirrored back to me on his face.

“You know it? Can you dance it?”

I looked down doubtfully at my sky high crimson Jimmy Choos, and suddenly made the connection between his story and how similar I probably looked to that professional dancer he’d seen, in my own red shoes. My smile couldn’t have been any broader when I looked back up at him.

“Well let’s see it, Red Shoes,” he encouraged, registering my understanding.

So with an audience of one, and four inch heels expensive enough to buy a used car, I danced the best rendition I could of The Red Shoes. The four glasses of Champagne I had earlier weren’t helping, but after many giggling stumbles and sloppy pirouettes, I completed the entire routine with a bow.

It was the loneliest standing ovation I’d ever received, as Cam stood alone on my parent’s roof, clapping and catcalling. He didn’t care what the neighbors thought, or about waking up my parents. This boy who talked about living in his foster home and doing anything to escape it, was so alive – so carefree.

For a long time I’d thought that was the moment I’d fallen in love with Cam. Later, I realized that I hadn’t known a thing about love at all, not the real kind at least. The kind that takes root in your very being and consumes everything you think you are.

I couldn’t explain all that to Madeline though. Chances were, she’d already read that story in the book, if it had even made the final cut.

“You’re call time was ten minutes ago. You both better get a move on before Georgia comes to find you.” Madeline’s punk hairstylist reminded them, breaking the restful ambiance of the room.

Madeline was once again joined by Fran and Alfred as we walked to set, and I followed slowly behind them.

I’d never realized that by locking my past behind the wall I’d built to protect myself, I’d also blocked out all the good things too. Like how Cam would ask me to dance for him long after I’d had to quit lessons, and he’d watch the same boring old routines over and over again, just because he knew it made me happy. He was the best at distracting me too. Whenever things got bad, I could always count on him to keep a running commentary on just about anything, as long as it kept my mind off the world crashing down around us.

Madeline and Declan took their places on set, and it was hard to keep myself numbed from the experience like I’d been doing. My equilibrium felt thrown off, and suddenly all of the feelings that I’d thought were resolved with Cam seemed like a puzzle that had just been dumped over, scattering pieces in every direction.

“They look good at least,” Cam whispered in my ear, coming to stand beside me as hair and make-up placed the final touches on the actors.

All I could do was nod. Why did this have to happen? Other than the lingering, awkward silences and completely repressed feelings, we had been doing just fine! Now all I could think about were all the reasons I’d fallen in love with him in the first place.

“Action!”

The set was constructed into what looked like an all-American living room. I supposed it was supposed to be the one in my parent’s house, though it didn’t look a think like it.

It was a long scene, one that involved many different camera angles and lighting changes. It seemed like forever before they even got to any dialogue.

“So, high school, huh?”Declan as Cam said, instantly smoothing away any inflection of his usual accent. It amazed me how good he was at that.

“You’re not one of those I’m-three-years-removed-therefore-so-above-everything types, are you?” I had to give Madeline credit for the attitude, but the little hip thing she was doing was totally off. I never stood like that!

“Unfortunately, I thought I was so above it, even when I was experiencing it.” Declan’s grin didn’t match Cam’s. Declan’s lips were made to smirk, not grin. “Not all of us are beautiful enough to actually get to enjoy high school.”

A hearty cackle disrupted the scene, and it took me a minute to realize I’d been the perpetrator of the crime.

“CUT!” Georgia’s shout was violent as she wheeled around to glare at me.

I was shocked by my own behavior – outraged, really – but it didn’t seem to do a thing to squelch the giggling fit that had just overtaken me. It was all downhill from there. The more everyone looked at me, the harder the laughter was to dissuade. I put my hand over my mouth, trying to suffocate it out of me, but nothing worked until I met Cam’s annoyed brown eyes.

“I’m sorry.” It sobered me more than anything else. “But who do you think you are – Nickolas Sparks? ‘Beautiful enough to actually get to enjoy high school,’ did you seriously write that?”

I blamed it on our past being blasted at me, but for a second he’d just been Cam again in my mind, the same guy who used to take great pleasure in calling me out on all my poor-little-rich-girl melodramas. He hadn’t been a bestselling author whose ego I needed to tiptoe around.

The silence screamed as he stared at me a long moment, his expression caught somewhere between speculative and offended. Even if I didn’t dare look, I knew everyone else on set was breathlessly awaiting his reaction just as I was.

Except I swear I sensed a little disappointment from them when Cam’s laughter lit up the room twice as loud as mine had.

It was the slightest tilt I needed to spiral back into my own amusement, and soon we were clutching at each other, bent at the waist, spilling over with laughter together.

“Excuse me!” Our display was pushing the boundaries of Georgia’s southern belle upbringing, as she kicked up her volume and glared in our direction.

Several times we got it under control only to ruin a perfectly good take. No one was even bothering to hide their annoyance by the time Georgia dismissed us from set for the day.

With our heads hung in shame, and still tittering with unwelcomed giggles, we had just started our walk back to Cam’s parking spot when I felt heat on the back of my neck and looked back over my shoulder to find Declan Davies’ penetrating stare watching our every move. I quickly broke eye contact, disliking the intensity he was using to study us.

This was the most at ease I’d felt with Cam since I’d been in California. It seemed that what we’d been missing all along was what we’d been so good at in the past; laughter. This was our moment, and it had nothing to do with their stupid, little movie, or Madeline, or Georgia, and especially not Declan Davies. I put them all out of my mind, and resolved to enjoy it like it deserved to be enjoyed.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated with sincerity and a smile. Our giggles had trailed off, but the good humor of the situation hadn’t left us, even as we drove back to Cam’s home. “This has all just been really…surreal.”

“It’s ridiculous is what it is!” He agreed as his dimples bloomed. “I can’t believe we both haven’t had a breakdown already. Maybe we should have a long time ago. I feel so much better now…I’ve missed you so much, Ads.”

My fossilizing heart fluttered like it hadn’t done in years at the way he was looking at me. I was seventeen all over again, falling into intrigue with the boy who was an exquisite contradiction.

“Sometimes I forget we started out so normal.” I half-grinned in return, as I made the confession. “Actually I constantly amaze myself with my ability to purposefully not remember anything to do with our relationship.”

He frowned at my comment, and the stormy look that darkened his eyes into the color of mud puddles reappeared. It hadn’t been my intention at all, and, freshly free of the ice that had been stiffening our interactions, I had no qualms about questioning him.

“Not everything was bad, you know,” he felt the same new freedom that I did, not needing my prompt, speaking with gentle intensity that added somberness to the mood, without completely killing it. “I hate the way things turned out just as much as you do. Seeing all this through your eyes makes me see how disgusting it is. It’s like I’ve profited off the same thing that ruined your life…I just wish the way things turned out didn’t have to ruin the way you felt about me.”

“That’s what’s been bothering you this whole time?” I should have seen it. It felt obvious now, thinking of all the clues I’d been too self-absorbed to pick up on. “I don’t fault you for what you’ve achieved, Cam. I’m so proud of you…The way I feel about you is far from ruined. I’ve never blamed you for anything that happened. I can’t think about it – can’t let myself remember – because if I started, I’d never be able to stop. I’d be paralyzed, forever wallowing in all the things that I can’t change.”

“Why does it have to be remembering the bad? We were family. It was me and you against the world. Don’t you want to get to have those good feelings to hold onto?”

“It was just too big to try and separate. I clumped it all together, shoved it in a drawer, and do everything in my power to never go near it.” I shrugged. It was the truth. I wasn’t proud of it, but it was how I’d gotten out of bed every day for the past three years.

My assurance had nudged him away from the storm behind his eyes, and now he pouted with trepidation.

“What if I could show you that it doesn’t have to hurt to remember everything?”

His mind was made up, I could already tell.

All I could do was agree very, very cautiously.

Six hours later, we were secluded on Cam’s king size bed and ignoring the sun that set outside his closed curtains. I’d reluctantly been lured into his room, away from the safety of my distance, and with the help of three bottles of wine, we’d partaken in our old favorite pastime…mocking 80’s horror movies.

“Okay,” I sighed dramatically as the credits rolled after a truly horrendous monster thriller about leprechauns. “I’ll hand it to you, this was a really good idea.”

“I told you.” His chest puffed out proudly, and he slunk off the fluffy comforter to switch DVD’s. I’d let him talk me into transitioning generations to try a recent flick called Jennifer’s Body next (which he described as ‘highly underrated’). “We used to do this all the time when we lived in the loft, and you don’t seem to be wallowing in misery to me.”

The grey sweatpants he’d changed into slung low off his hips as we walked to the large flat screen, and I quickly wiped away the dribble of wine I’d spilled down my chin at the sight. I resolutely pushed the glass away from me on the bedside table, positive it was the cause of my libidos sudden, gallant return. I didn’t know how much it was going to help, since I’d already finished a bottle by myself, but I had to do something to coil my need to jump on him.

“Well it wasn’t exactly like this.” I pointed out, trying to clear my head.

He looked intrigued as he finished with the DVD player and returned to sprawl across his side of the bed. The thin white t-shirt he was wearing rode up his abdomen, and my eyes glued to the exposed skin. The scar he’d gotten from getting his appendix removed as a child remained, and I remembered tracing the disfigured line of skin so many times as I lazily undressed him.

I shivered and yanked my gaze to safer territory.

“We never used to drink.” I told him, a distracted ramble running along with my words. “Besides the fact that I was only eighteen when I moved in, I was also pregnant. We actually never dated when I wasn’t pregnant if you do the math.”

He hummed thoughtfully.

“I guess I never thought of it that way. You were still so tiny when I came with Thomas for the summer. It’s hard to think of you as being pregnant even then.”

“Ballerina body.” I replied instinctively. Months had gone by without my realizing my condition. My cycles had never been regular, so it hadn’t been strange to me at all to skip periods, and maybe in the back of my mind I knew something was wrong, but I’d always felt defensive about how long it took me to discover my pregnancy. I mean, I should’ve known. It was my own body. I should have realized.

Distracted by my thoughts, I froze with surprise when Cam reached to lay a hand on my stomach like it was the most natural thing in the world. I was paralyzed as he raised my UNC sweatshirt and his cool hand made contact with the same skin that had once swelled with child.

My thoughts nosedived into filthy territory. The blunt tips of his fingers traced up my ribs lightly.

“You hated getting bigger. I remember how you fretted over every pound, but your body was just as sexy. It was a different kind of sexy, curving in places that had always been toned before, but I wanted to touch you all the time.” He breathed into my ear, his body moving slowly closer.

I felt hot all over. There wasn’t enough air in the room, as I tried to take deep breaths to calm myself. I wanted to strip off my sweatshirt the rest of the way and go add a parka all at the same time, as emotions and temptations battled it out inside my head.

“You did touch me all the time,” I tried to sound matter of fact, but every word came out coated with honey.

Fingers ghosted down to trail over the elastic band of my shorts, and I grabbed his hand to stop him, sure I’d explode if I didn’t.

“…I miss touching you,” he said softly.

My gaze snapped up to meet his, and we only paused a moment before our lips melded together in a slow, rediscovering kiss. Gone were the hurried, rushed movements of our past. These were touches of two people who’d gone to the edges of each other’s souls and back. Our mouths moved and our bodies felt, but the emotions were old and numbed, making the experience unique in itself.

It still felt good. I barely realized my clothes were being removed until I was naked. I wanted it to be like riding a bike, and in a way it was. I still remembered the motions and technical thrill of the building momentum between us, but it was lacking the fullness of my heart that used to swell with emotion like it might burst.

“We should sleep.” I told him breathlessly, pulling away.

In the end, it was the foreign detachment marking the experience that stopped me.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started that.” I detected the tiniest ounce of relief in his reply, and I knew all of this was just as hard for him as it was for me. We were in the same boat, just trying to figure it all out.

With the wine weighing on my mind, I kissed him one last time on the cheek before rolling over and closing my eyes to sleep.

+++

Click ClickClickClick

Vigorous little ticks woke me from my slumber, and I had no way to tell how much time had passed during my deep sleep, except for the sun that rained in an opened window as it rose in the sky.

I sat up, squinting against the light, and swiftly pulled the sheet up with me, realizing my exposed state.

“Cam?” I asked his back. He was sitting in front of his desk hunched over a laptop. “What are you doing?”

Glancing over his shoulder at me with a familiar grin, he snapped his computer shut. He swiveled around fully to face me, and tossed his wire rimmed reading glasses on the desk behind him.

“Good. You’re up.”

“How long have you been awake?” My voice was still hoarse from sleep.

Fully dressed in dark jeans and a dress shirt, Cam looked like he’d been alert for hours even though I knew it couldn’t be long after sunrise.

“I never went to sleep. You know how I’ve been struggling with writer’s block? Well, last night after you passed out, I sat down at my computer and banged out the rest of my rough draft for the next book.” He was talking excitedly, his words running into one another as they raced to the finish line. “I already emailed it to my publisher in New York, and they want me to fly out as soon as possible to talk with my editor. They’ve been putting pressure on me for months to finish it, but I just couldn’t make anything sound right, then BAM Adley Adair is back in my life, and it flows out of me like a waterfall…I think that might qualify you as a muse.”

“I don’t like that sound of that one bit.” I told him scowling. Tucking his white sheet closer around my naked body, I sat Indian style in his bed. “This new book better not even have a character’s whose name starts with an ‘A’. I’ve retired from my book starring days.”

He chuckled. At least one of us found the situation amusing.

“Have no fear. I’ve been talked into the ever profitable Sci-Fi genre. This book is galaxies away from The Girl in the Yellow Dress…literally.”

“What do they mean ‘as soon as possible’?” The pucker of my sour face only increased as he became more excited.

He stood up, moving to stand beside a bulky piece of luggage I hadn’t noticed before.

“In this business, it’s all about striking while the iron’s hot. Well that’s what they tell me anyway. They think it would do wonders for sales to release the new book around the same time The Girl in the Yellow Dress hits theaters…Which means I need to be in New York like yesterday.”

“You can’t leave now!” I was aghast. He was the whole reason I was in this position in the first place! He couldn’t just leave. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” He scolded me with a smile, which only made it worse. I wasn’t in the mood to be charmed. “It won’t be for forever. I’ll be back before the end of the summer. It’s actually really great that you’re here, Addy. There’s no way I could go if you weren’t.”

Uh oh, nicknames were not a good sign. My eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just like what happened yesterday on set. No one else would call me out about the script. I need someone here I trust and who knows the information, so that I don’t end up with my name stamped on a pile of garbage.”

“I did not agree to that.”

I could barely bring myself to watch the scenes half the time. Surely, he couldn’t expect this out of me too?

He leveled his pretty, brown eyes at me, fitting his lips with a pout that should only ever be appropriate on a four-year-old.

“It’ll come with a pay raise. I’ll make sure you get my writer’s salary without ever having to put pen to paper. All you have to do is report back to me if something is awry. If even the smallest little thing doesn’t feel right, I want to know about it. You’d be getting a lot more money for barely anything more than you’re doing now.”

And there it was again…money. The real reason I’d been talked into this stunt. College wasn’t cheap, and pretty soon I was going to have to take loans out that would probably follow me around for the rest of my life.

I thought of Madeline and how she never let anything stand in her way. She was willing do to whatever it took to achieve more out of life, and so was I…even if it meant sacrificing my pride, and possibly my mental stability.

So in a stunning turn of events, I took a page out of Madeline Little’s book and agreed.

“You are amazing, Adley Adair.” He told me, leaping across the room to give me a slobbery kiss on the cheek.

“I know.”

And then Cam was gone, and I couldn’t even say it was the first time I’d ever watched him go.

I was wide awake even though I didn’t have to be on set for hours, so I took my time in Cam’s shower, using all six showerheads to massage my tense body. Once I was dressed, fed, and appropriately bored, I ventured into new parts of the house. While Cam was there, it had seemed presumptuous to grant myself a tour, but now that he was gone, I took my time wandering through all the extra nooks and crannies that were hidden throughout the rather immense home.

It was nothing like the loft in North Carolina that he’d owned since he was sixteen and had gotten emancipated from the state. When he’d started at Duke and moved into a dorm with Thomas, he hadn’t sold the loft, instead, renting it out while he was away. We’d moved back into the loft together when I showed up on his doorstep, finally ready to admit I was already five months pregnant.

The loft had been simple, clean, small, but not cramped. It was one open room, and only furnished with the necessities. He was so proud of the space that he’d worked to pay for with his own money, and his love showed in the personal and eclectic décor.

This mansion, cut from the same cloth as every other house on the street, was the opposite of personal. It could have easily been one of those model houses they show you when you’re thinking about buying in a subdivision.

I ended up in the library. My eyes followed the four walls, filled from floor to ceiling with books, as I finally found something of Cam. It was obvious that even his massive book collection couldn’t fill all of the library’s space, and between his worn and tattered scavenged copies of the classics, there were newer editions marked by the perfect spines and untarnished colors.

On the table in the center of the room, a pristine copy of The Girl in the Yellow Dress screamed up at me. I was drawn to the book, and for the first time ever, I reached out to pick it up. It was lighter than I’d thought it’d be for something weighed down by all of my demons.

I watched my hands open the novel, as if they were acting without my consent, and I cringed at the ugly crack that came from the previously unopened book’s spine. Curiosity spurred me forward as my eyes ran over the first words.

To the girl in the yellow dress,

I remember the first time I saw you. You were incomparably beautiful – the perfect nose, perfect eyes, perfect pouting pink lips – but even your perfection could not justify what made you truly exquisite.

I coveted you instantly in your shining yellow dress-

I closed the book with a resolute snap. I don’t even remember owning a yellow dress. The color had never done anything for my complexion.

I’d read enough to know that whatever was in that book didn’t tell the whole story. It couldn’t possibly. It might be filled with all my dirty little secrets and shames, but it didn’t tell the truth. I knew it because the truth was not beautiful nor was it exquisite. It was pain, and misery, and more loss than one could hope to perceive.

I left the library, and hurried downstairs and out of the house. It suddenly felt suffocating, and the truth of my current situation was something not even I could ignore.

I was living alone in the house that Cam had built on the carcass of our past. I’d never felt so lonely in my life.