When Stars Fall

by Wendy Million

  “Are you happy?” I ask.

  “You want me to say I’m happy?”

  I release one of her hands and put my arm around her waist, tugging her close. “I want you to be happy.”

  She stares at our joined hands and makes no move to step away. “I’m content.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “I know. But being happy with someone means they can make me sad too.” Tension crackles between us. We’re so close my breath stirs her hair.

  A buzzing noise interrupts the silence. I curse the vibration in my pocket. Ignore it.

  She steps back as though she’s come out of a trance. “It’s getting late,” she says. “You should call for that ride.”

  I remove my phone from my pocket and see my home number. “Sorry,” I say to Ellie. “I’ll be a minute. I need to take this.” With a grimace, I head into the kitchen and press Talk.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ellie

  Present Day

  While Wyatt is in the kitchen, I turn on my regular phone. I ignore the messages, voice mails, and other nonsense I’ll be forced to deal with eventually. My PR can handle the bulk of the storm.

  I scroll through my contacts, searching for Calshae’s number. There she is. I send a text asking her to collect Wyatt if she’s available.

  Slouched into the couch, I wait for her reply. My skin hums from standing so close to Wyatt, from touching him. Any time I come near something similar with anyone else, I cut the relationship short. Tell myself I no longer crave the intensity. But that isn’t it. I fear the kind of love Wyatt inspires. Once you realize its power, you either seek the sensation like an addict or run like hell whenever that emotion appears. I’m a runner; Wyatt is a seeker.

  Calshae sends a thumbs-up emoji, and I sigh with relief. He needs to leave before I cave in an epic manner. Haven does not need to wake up tomorrow morning to find her father slept over. If he kissed me, he could ask for anything, and I’d give it.

  I wander into the kitchen to tell Wyatt Calshae is on her way.

  “I pay people to do those things,” Wyatt says. “Have someone do it. If it’s too hard for you to manage with Jamal, ask Camila to take over.”

  I stand in the doorway and frown. Jamal? He sees me and looks flustered.

  “Look, I gotta go. You understand where I am.” He listens for a moment and then sighs. “I know, I know. It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”

  He hangs up and slips the phone into his pocket.

  “I texted Calshae. She’s on her way.”

  He leans against the island and watches me, not bothering to explain his conversation. While he doesn’t owe me the information, I want the details, even if I don’t deserve them. His stare means he’s calculating something. “What’s up for tomorrow?”

  “If we can’t agree on how a relationship will work, it’s best if we let whatever this once was go.” Last time I compromised about everything, but I’m not a young, naive girl in love anymore.

  “There might be movement on my end about where we live. I have something I’ll need to check, but location isn’t a deal breaker for me.”

  “You’re willing to say anything. Anything to get me to say yes.”

  “So?” He shrugs.

  “Once I say yes, I’m worried you’ll change the playing field. Suddenly LA needs to be a compromise. Your social media accounts are for fun, maybe a drink or two socially . . .” I picture the younger Wyatt, who had no boundaries. The security intercom buzzer goes, and I walk over and press it. “Yeah, Freddie?”

  “Calshae Simmons says she’s here to get Wyatt?”

  Thank God the island is small. “He’ll be out in a minute,” I say. “Tell her I said thanks for coming.”

  “Tomorrow, Ellie,” he reminds me.

  “It’s a busy day.” Only a partial lie. I could rearrange most of my commitments, but I haven’t yet. I open the side door.

  He stands so close the heat radiating off his body warms me. I shouldn’t make eye contact. Avoid the charm. Keep your head down, Ellie.

  When I glance up, his light eyes are filled with sincerity, not the desire or teasing I expected. Whatever he’s going to say next, he’ll mean it.

  “You can be happy with me. I won’t be the one making you sad anymore.”

  “My mom and I are having breakfast. I’m running a drama program in the afternoon for kids at a local high school.” He lights up. “You can’t come,” I say. “Teenagers and their phones. You’d be spread across the internet.”

  “Kids love me.” Wyatt waggles his eyebrows. He must be able to sense I’m close to giving in.

  “Most people seem to—color me surprised.” A short laugh escapes me.

  “You wound me, Ellie.” He takes my hand and places it in the center of his chest.

  My breath catches, and my heart kicks into gear. A simple touch from him electrifies my body. Deeply unfair for this intensity to still exist between us.

  “Dinner? That’s it. Haven wanted to do that kayaking and snorkeling thing.” He’s pressing his advantage. His instincts are good.

  I mull it over for a moment and nod. Dinner is harmless, right? He smooths my hair and kisses my forehead before disappearing out the door.

  My eyes are closed to savor the contact, and the cool ocean breeze blows around me. Haven’s the only reason I’m not following him out the door to drag him back. I must keep my head level. I can’t be swept away again.

  My mother pours another cup of tea from the tea set on her kitchen table and tips her chin in expectation. We’ve discussed everything but Wyatt. People talk, and the hospital is a gossip hive.

  “What do you want to know?” I sigh.

  “It should be obvious.” She throws out the hand that isn’t holding her cup of tea. “Are you going to tell him about Haven?”

  “I’m not sure.” I wiggle in my seat. The big question, the one looming over every interaction.

  “How long did he say he’s been clean and sober?”

  “About two years.” Not long, but I don’t know how long it needs to be.

  My mother works with addiction cases as a doctor. The first time I brought Wyatt home, she told me he seemed like a nice guy, but it was a shame about the drug habit. Those words would come to haunt me later.

  “Are you happy he’s here?” She’s getting to the other heart of the matter.

  I take a deep breath and decide on honesty. “Yes.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Do you remember about a year ago, when you were dating Matt, I asked if you would ever get married?”

  That conversation is burned into my brain. At that point, marrying Matt hadn’t occurred to me. We broke up not long after. Even though the relationship was good, I couldn’t make myself feel what Matt clearly felt.

  “I realized then Wyatt was the one holding you back. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve had one foot in a relationship with him for ten years. That’s the truth. You never let anyone else get close enough. The men you dated after him were dependable, reasonable, logical. Wonderful for some, but not right for you.”

  I take my empty cup to the sink. My mother has always been insightful. In the ten years since I left him, she’s never confronted me about my residual feelings. “Why didn’t you say anything?” I turn around so I’m leaning against the counter to face her.

  “Because if he was still an addict, love or not, he wasn’t right for you and Haven. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be.”

  “You always seemed to like my other boyfriends . . .”

  “There’s nothing not to like. Steady, dependable. They treated you well. You seemed to like them.”

  “You make it sound so dry.”

  “Seems like a good word.”

  I’ve never thought of my mother as being on Wyatt’s side, and maybe that’s not what this is either. M
aybe she’s digging at the same point as Wyatt. There is a difference between happy and content. But I’m terrified of what Wyatt and I will have to wade through to have any chance at happiness again. “Should I tell him about Haven?”

  “I can’t decide that for you.” She consults her teacup, as though it has all the answers. “If it was me, I’d wait a day or two. The risk, of course, is twofold. Someone else could expose you—so many people on the island are aware she’s his. And the second problem is that the longer you wait, the more likely he is to be Wyatt-level angry.”

  Wyatt-level angry. Been a while since I’ve had to consider that.

  “But it’s not my fault. I tried to talk to him before leaving, and he wouldn’t listen. Mom, the things he said to me that day.” I shake my head. “After Haven was born, I went back to try to talk. He wasn’t capable of being a good father or partner. When he didn’t remember, I decided he couldn’t know. Inviting that version of him into my life was a bad idea.”

  Her expression softens. “I’m aware of the choices you made, honey. I’m warning you Wyatt might not process it through your eyes. He’s missed almost ten years with her. It’s a lot. He’s her father, and you’ve tried twice in ten years to tell him.”

  “Mom!” Anxiety creeps across my chest. “You’re not helping.”

  “This is preparation for how he’s going to view it. I don’t disagree with how you’ve handled your situation. Given the lifestyle Wyatt was leading, you did your best to protect Haven and keep her safe.” My mother’s blue eyes are filled with sympathy. “I realize how hard it was for you to give him up.”

  My secret shame is how much I resented Haven for the first few months. If she didn’t exist, I would have been with Wyatt. But I made the choice to keep her, knowing what it might mean. Deep down, I was sure Wyatt would cave. He’d seek me out. He’d get help. I didn’t expect it to take him ten years. The way he loved me—I didn’t believe there was anything bigger, more intense than that. I was wrong.

  “I want you to understand that if you do tell him, it might not be sunshine and roses with a happily-ever-after.” She drains the last of her tea and crosses to put it in the sink beside me.

  “He’s decided she’s Nikki’s daughter with a deadbeat guy.”

  “Yes, Nikki told me. That’s what you’ve wanted the rest of the world to believe. Why wouldn’t he?”

  “I guess I thought that once he saw her, he might recognize the parts of himself in her that I see so clearly.”

  “Oh, honey. You have to know to look. That’s doubly true if you’re a man.” She gives me a wink.

  “What does Dad think?”

  “Oh, in your father’s eyes, you and Nikki can do no wrong. He’d walk through fire for you both.”

  We’ve always had a strong father-daughter relationship. “Haven should have a chance to experience that relationship with Wyatt.”

  My mother doesn’t say anything; she just looks at me with her wise eyes.

  “If he seems okay today and tomorrow, I’ll tell him.”

  She pats me on the arm. “Good girl.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ellie

  Ten Years Ago

  Wyatt and Isaac are passed out in lounge chairs on the other side of my parents’ pool. We went out last night and partied a little too hard. Par for the course lately. The two of them seem to be in a battle to see who can be more wasted. Calshae and Nikki found their outlandish behavior hilarious, but I can’t help feeling as though we’re on a collision course.

  Beside me, my mother flicks through a magazine. We’re here for a long weekend. Wyatt’s idea. He wanted to get Isaac away from LA for a while. His father’s death and the dried-up acting roles have finally led Isaac to agree to a production company. The only problem is that neither of them are in the proper headspace to build the company with good people. Instead, I’m the one trying to do the hiring, and I don’t have a freaking clue what I’m doing.

  “When you first brought him home,” my mother says as she flips a page, “I could see what he was. I’ve seen it before. But I wasn’t worried about you because I thought you were smart enough to stay out of it.”

  I’m glad for my sunglasses when she stops turning pages to stare at me. The sheer number of tabloid stories about Wyatt and Isaac meant their exploits were bound to get back to my mother. She doesn’t follow gossip, but Bermuda is small, and lots of other people would be happy to fill her in on her eldest daughter’s colorful, celebrity-filled party life.

  “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, wouldn’t you? No matter what you get yourself into, I would always help you get out.”

  “I’m fine.” Despite the life Wyatt, Isaac, and Anna lead, the only thing I have ever craved is Wyatt—his company, his attention, his touch.

  “But they aren’t. And if you truly are fine, then you’re lucky.” She tips her chin at Wyatt and Isaac. “The path they are on doesn’t lead anywhere good. You understand that.”

  If she’d witnessed the depths Wyatt and Isaac had sunk to over the last few months, she’d lock me up in a rehab center as a precaution. Isaac had a friend of a friend hook him up with all kinds of drugs the minute we arrived on the island. Their addictions don’t take vacations.

  When Wyatt suggested coming here, I tried to talk him out of it. There was never any doubt my mother would recognize what was happening, but I’m surprised it took her almost twenty-four hours to say something. Of course, Wyatt has been glued to me since we arrived. Just as strong as his raging addiction seems to be this overwhelming need to keep me close, as though he’s afraid to lose anyone else.

  “It’s just because Isaac’s dad died,” I say.

  “They weren’t like this before?”

  “Not like this,” I say. Sometimes uncontrolled, but never this sustained. “Wyatt says he can pull himself out.”

  “Ah, yes. The promises of an addict.” She sets the magazine on the table between our lounge chairs. “I know you love him very much. But there is a difference between being a partner and being a caretaker. To me, it seems as though the balance has shifted.”

  I adjust my sunglasses and cross my arms. “This is temporary. Once he and Isaac get beyond Kabir’s death, they’ll be back to normal.”

  “What is normal?”

  I huff out a breath.

  My mother releases a sigh. “You’ve never had to face the death of someone close. My mother died when you were very young, but here’s what I’ll tell you about that kind of grief—it might fade, but it never, ever goes away. What those boys are carrying now, they’ll be carrying thirty years from now. How they carry it is their choice, but it’ll always be there. Right now they’re trying to bury their grief under a mountain of substances. The bad news is that once they try to level out again, they’ll realize the grief they haven’t dealt with is still there. Just as powerful and present as it was before.”

  “I’m not leaving him,” I say.

  “I’m not asking you to, though I can’t say I’d be upset if you did.”

  Wyatt and Isaac stir on the loungers, and the front door opens. Nikki and Calshae tease my dad for being inside on a beautiful day, and their flip-flops slap against the tile floor as they make their way to the open patio doors.

  “Don’t get dragged into those deep depths with him.” Her stare is penetrating. “When you can’t get someone back, the temptation is to get lost with them.”

  On Front Street, Isaac slings his arm over my shoulders and passes me his cigarette. “Your momma is scary as fuck.”

  I choke on the smoke and cough my laughter. “She’s not scary.”

  “She is. I grew up with ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ parents. They never ask why I might seem out of my head sometimes, and I don’t mention the drugs. Every time I talk to your mom, I feel like she’s going to crawl into my brain and discover all my secrets.”

  “Evelyn’s not that bad,” Wyatt says, and he flicks the ash
off his cigarette. “She sure as shit doesn’t think I’m good enough for her daughter. Cannot blame her for that.”

  I leave Isaac to wrap both my arms around Wyatt’s middle, and Isaac turns to talk to Calshae and some of my other friends from high school while we wander toward the Hamilton Princess for drinks on the terrace. “I love you, and so she’ll love you.” Eventually. At some point she’ll have to love him because I plan on being with him forever.

  Isaac takes a tin out of his pocket, and he lights a blunt. He motions to Wyatt after he inhales deeply. I try to grab it on the way past, but Wyatt blocks me and takes his own puff before raising his eyebrows.

  “Get Ellie a regular one,” he says to Isaac before taking another drag.

  The one he has must be laced with something, and when he releases a deep sigh and his shoulders loosen, I figure it’s heroin. When I’m home, I keep my consumption of harder drugs to a minimum. My mother doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Wyatt understands me, looks after me.

  Isaac lights a joint and passes it to me. We’ve reached the entrance for the Hamilton Princess, but instead of going in, we stand outside the arched entrance smoking. Wyatt and Isaac keep their blunt to themselves, but I pass the joint to any of my friends who want it.

  Inside, we order rum swizzles from the bar closest to the terrace entrance. We aren’t there long before Wyatt passes me his glass, and he disappears to the bathroom with Isaac.

  Calshae appears at my side, stirring her drink with her straw. “I’m not sure my liver can take another night with them.”

  “It’s a whole new level of partying,” I say. After three years, I’ve experienced it all.

  Wyatt returns, and he takes his drink from my hand before turning to Calshae and asking about her future aspirations. Since he’s been working in the industry forever, he loves asking other people about what they want to do with their lives.