“Why did you wait so long?”
“I wish I had an answer,” she exhales, shaking her head. “There are times I wish I could go back and shake myself, force myself to wake up, but it’s not that easy. Ethan manipulated me to the point that I truly believed I’d be nothing without him, despite the fact I now had a career of my own. I never saw myself as this successful celebrity. I still saw myself as the struggling actress who would do anything just to get an audition.”
“What caused you to finally call?”
A blank look crosses her face as she stares straight ahead. “A photo of me from a movie I’d shot a few months earlier appeared on the front page of some tabloid with a headline about me leaving my husband for someone younger. Ethan saw it and flipped out. He wouldn’t listen to reason, didn’t care that the actor was gay or that it was a scene from the movie. He pulled out a knife, brought it up to my throat, and told me the only way he’d ever allow me to leave him was in a casket.
“The following day, after he’d apologized profusely and promised yet again to seek treatment for his anger issues, I kissed him goodbye, then called the number. In a matter of hours, I was on a plane to Vancouver where I spent the next two months with August Laurent.
“What did you tell Ethan? He had to notice you were gone? Did you tell him you’d had enough?”
She pinches her lips together, slowly shaking her head. “I told him I’d just gotten a project thrown into my lap and would be on location shooting for a few months. I offered to fly him out, knowing he’d never take me up on it. Once my star got bigger than his, he balked at the idea of joining me on set.”
I sit back, trying to wrap my head around the story she just shared with me. Whenever I saw Sonia and Ethan together on TV, I assumed they were the perfect couple, the one everyone aspired to be, that their love was what we all hoped to find. As with everything, appearances can be deceiving. I got my first taste of that earlier this summer when he came onto me. I figured he was just drunk. I suppose Sonia made the same excuse I did when, in reality, there’s no excuse for that behavior.
“And what was your time with August like?”
“Exhilarating.” The tension seems to roll off her shoulders in waves as she reflects. “He was exactly what I needed. He took care of me and made me feel beautiful, something I hadn’t experienced in years. I would talk about my time with Ethan, and he wouldn’t judge me for staying with him. He had a level of understanding I never expected. He showed me what a real relationship should be like, what real love should look like.”
“Do you love him?”
She scrunches her brows, chewing on her lower lip. “It’s an interesting question, one I’ve never really thought about, but I suppose you can say I do. I love how his encouragement empowered me, how he helped me realize I do have worth, how he gave me the strength to walk away from it all.
“You see, hiring August Laurent isn’t about a fleeting physical attraction. It’s more than that. It’s about sharing a connection, something I hadn’t had in years. He gave me that. He gave me the greatest gift anyone could. If it weren’t for him, I shudder to think where I’d be right now. I wouldn’t be on the brink of finally saying goodbye to my past. And it’s all thanks to August Laurent’s influence on me. Because now I know I have worth. Even if Ethan’s threats are realized and he makes sure I never work in this industry again, he can’t take away the most important thing, not anymore.”
“And what’s that?”
A brilliant smile forms. “My freedom.”
Chapter Thirty
A heaviness settles in my chest as I stare at my overnight bag, packing up the few essentials I’ll need for my final weekend with Julian. I’d been dreading this for weeks, especially once we kissed. Thankfully, I haven’t had time to think about it too much lately. Most of my free time has been filled with interviewing other women who’d been referred to August Laurent. Every single one of them helped me view him as who he truly is — a man who used his notoriety for good. He could have continued as a traditional escort, someone women called if they needed a date for a wedding to make their ex jealous or didn’t want to sit through another Christmas with family members asking why they’re not married or in a serious relationship just yet. At first, that’s what he did, smiling, playing the role he’d been hired to play. But then something changed. I can’t help but wonder what that was.
As I grab a few of my toiletries out of my vanity, I pause when my eyes fall on a strip of photos. On our way out to Southampton last weekend, Julian made a surprise stop at Coney Island. He couldn’t believe I’ve lived in New York for nearly ten years and had yet to go. It was exactly as I’d imagined — cheesy, dirty, obnoxious…and magical. We played carnival games and ate food I’m sure will take the rest of my life to work off.
Neither one of us wanted to leave. So much so that we ended up being three hours late to the dinner we were scheduled to attend. That didn’t seem to faze us. Nothing mattered much lately, except for being with each other. Now I’m on the brink of never seeing him again.
Despite the shift in our relationship, Julian’s carried on as if it’s business as usual, that he’s still planning on walking away after this weekend. Two months ago, I looked forward to having my freedom back, as well as a beautiful new wardrobe. Now I’d trade all of that for just one more night, one more hour, one more minute with Julian.
Tears well in my eyes and I fall onto the bed, my throat closing up as I look to the ceiling, frustrated with myself. I’m not supposed to cry over him, not when one of the reasons he asked me to help was because I’d remain detached, because I wouldn’t get emotionally invested. But I have. Regardless of what he wants me to believe, I know he has, too. How can he walk away now? How can anyone walk away after forming this kind of connection, this amazing bond? Isn’t it human nature to want to pursue something like this and see where it leads?
As I consider the predicament I now find myself in, I’m reminded of August Laurent and how every single woman I’ve spoken to has admitted they love him. Surely after spending a month or two with these women, he must have formed feelings for them, yet he still walks away every single time. How does he keep his heart guarded? How can he leave them, knowing there’s something there?
Grabbing my phone, I open my email. I may regret this, but I need words of encouragement. As much as I love Chloe and Nora, I can’t talk to them about this, not when I’ve refused to admit I’m falling for the guy. Despite the change in me they’ve both picked up on, I insist there’s nothing between us, that I’m still looking forward to the end of the summer. I need advice from someone who’s been in my shoes. There’s only one person who will understand.
To: August Laurent
From: Evie Fitzgerald
Subject: ???
How do you do it?
Short and to the point. I hit send, then continue packing up my things. Only a few seconds pass before my phone rings. I snap my eyes toward it, the familiar Blocked appearing on the caller ID.
“Evie Fitzgerald,” I answer, although I know who it is. By now, it’s become a routine with us.
“I thought we were past this, Miss Fitzgerald. Haven’t you figured out by now I’m not taking advantage of vulnerable women?”
“It’s not that,” I respond quickly. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I understand now.”
“Then what is it?”
I draw in a shaky breath. “How do you do what you do and not feel like you lose a piece of yourself every few months?”
“A piece of myself?”