When Stars Fall

by Wendy Million

  She’s overreacting and worrying more than she should. I’m fine here, and she’s only a plane ride away whenever I want to see her.

  “You need to come to set with me. I know you’re supposed to start shooting in a couple weeks here in LA, but I can’t keep flying home on the spur of the moment. Chris is being kind to me because he knows you, he likes you, and he understands about Isaac. But I can’t keep doing this. I’m costing people money. I can’t—no one will hire me if I keep running to you.”

  “Then stop. Stay here with me. Quit the movie. I can look after you.” I tug her closer. “We can spend all our time together.”

  “Do you remember calling me last night?”

  “I got locked out of my phone.” I gesture to the ground behind her. When I rub my forehead, my hand dampens with sweat.

  “You pulled up the carpet?” She searches beyond where our Turkish memento had lain to the smashed phone. “And you broke your phone.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll buy a new one.”

  She steps away from me and picks up the fire extinguisher. In one fluid movement, Ellie sweeps the spray across the fireplace, dousing the flames.

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that.” My brain stalls while she smothers my blazing creation. “I wasn’t done.” The smoke gets to me, and I cough.

  “Have you gone to see Tanvi?” she shouts over the noise of the fire extinguisher.

  “Not lately, no.” I grit my teeth.

  “I bet you’ve had lots of time for Anna, though, right?” She tosses the fire extinguisher onto the couch. The fireplace is a mess behind her, but the flames are gone.

  Watching her almost makes me laugh. She’s so tiny and angry that I want to wrap her in my arms and carry her away. “She’s my sister.” I shrug. “She understands how I feel right now.”

  “She does, does she?” Ellie’s dark eyes blaze. “She knows what it’s like to watch her best friend overdose? I wonder why that is? What does that say about her?”

  “You mean what does that say about me?” My anger rises. Her judgmental tone grates on me. She’s silent, with her arms crossed. “That’s bullshit. How could you say that to me?”

  Her expression collapses from angry to pained. She clasps a hand over her mouth, muffling a sob, and a few tears slide down her face.

  “Ellie.” My anger is gone in an instant. Her tears are always my undoing. “Don’t cry. Ellie, come on. I’m sorry, okay? I don’t remember calling you. Don’t have a clue what I said. My head . . . it’s like I have a train in there. I need to take something and then I’ll be back to myself.”

  “I don’t know who you are anymore,” Ellie whispers into my chest.

  “You don’t mean that.” I smooth her hair. Panic toys at the edge of my sanity. “You don’t mean that.”

  There’s a hitch in her breathing before she says, “Maybe you should talk to someone.”

  I let go of her to grab the fire extinguisher. The flames are starting again. Fire can be so persistent. The last thing I need is for the house to burn. Pointing the extinguisher at the fire, I smother the new flames. “I talk to people all the time.”

  “You’re not talking, not really. Not about anything that matters. You’re stuffing it down, covering whatever you’re feeling with more and more drugs.”

  Her words wash over me in a haze. The pounding in my head is winning out. I leave her and go to the master en suite bathroom to search the cabinets. Nothing left. Not a single pill in any bottle. I stride out past her to Isaac’s en suite and check in the bathroom drawer where he used to keep his stash. Success. An old container of pills. I toss the bottle from hand to hand before popping the top off and taking a Xanax. Clutching the last of my sanity in my hand, I return to Ellie.

  She faces the charred remnants of Isaac’s memory, arms crossed against her middle. She doesn’t look in my direction and tears are streaming down her face. The fire is out, so there’s no need for her to be crying.

  Standing in front of her, I run my free hand along the side of her face. With a deep breath, I say, “What do you want me to say? I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.”

  “I want your truth.” More tears slip down her cheeks. “I want your hurt, your anger, your sadness—I want all of it. I want you. I don’t have you anymore.” She gestures to the pill bottle. “That has you. Anna has you. Who knows who or what else has had you.”

  “I would never cheat on you. You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I’m never going to want anyone else.”

  “I don’t understand how to do this.”

  “I’m having a hard time right now.” Panic seizes my chest. “But I’ll bounce back. I always bounce back.” I lace our fingers together and tug her closer, wrapping our linked arms around her back. “You’re not . . .” I search her face, dread building in me. “You’re not going to leave me, are you, Ellie?”

  “I just want you.” She strokes my face and sighs. Tears pool in her eyes and spill over. “I want you back.”

  “I’ll come to set with you. That’s what you want?” A rush of relief hits me. She won’t leave if I give her what she wants.

  “I want to be sure you’re okay. At least if you’re there, I’ll know if you’re okay.” She leans her head on my chest.

  I toss the bottle of pills onto the couch. They’ll be fine there until I get them later. With my hands under her legs, I lift her up so her face is flush with mine. “I’m going to be fine, Ellie. I’ve got you looking after me.” One of my hands slides under her ass so I can draw her head closer with the other one. I kiss her long and deep. She relaxes into me, her tongue slipping along mine. I’d do anything to keep her. “Let me look after you,” I murmur, deepening the kiss.

  She loops her arms around my neck, pressing her breasts against my chest. “I love you, Wyatt,” she whispers into my ear, kissing my neck. “I love you so much.”

  With her in my arms, I walk us back to our bedroom and lay her on the bed. She peels off her clothes. Her breathing is heavy, and her eyes are already darkening with desire. She drags me on top of her, my underwear falling to the floor.

  “It’s you and me. Forever. That’s never going to change.” I’ll never let her leave me without a fight. Whatever she asks, I’ll do, if it means she’ll stay with me.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ellie

  Present Day

  I wake with a start, my heart pounding like I’ve been running. I sit up in bed, disoriented, and I rub my forehead. This is my room. My heart is racing, and I must have been dreaming about something. Then I remember.

  Wyatt knows. He’s coming here today. I snatch my phone off my nightstand to see if I’ve missed a call from him. It’s ten in the morning. Three hours of sleep isn’t much, but it’ll have to do.

  After I sobbed my heart out in the parking lot of Wyatt’s hotel, I collected Nikki and Haven from Nikki’s house and brought them here. But I didn’t have the energy or the right words to explain what was happening to Haven.

  Before Wyatt arrives, I have to tell her he learned the truth. I don’t want her caught off guard by anything he might say. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and let my head rest in my hands for a beat. He’s so angry with me.

  My mind churns with the various ways today could go. It’s going to suck for me. This has been what Haven has wanted for years, and I don’t want to ruin the experience. I shove my anguish down and vow to keep a lid on my feelings. I’m going to earn an Oscar for this performance.

  Once I’m showered and dressed in fresh clothes, I’m confident I can face him. I text Wyatt to see what time he’s coming. In the living room, Nikki and Haven are playing a board game.

  “Coffee should still be warm if you need it like I did,” Nikki says when she sees me.

  In the kitchen, I grab a mug and pour liquid gold into it. I’m drinking it black. The tangy taste should kick me into gear.

  When I emerge, Nikki makes e
ye contact. “Mom called. We should have a quick chat.”

  “Outside?” I gesture to the back patio.

  She ruffles Haven’s hair as she stands and then follows me out. “Are you okay?” she asks. “You looked rough last night.”

  “I had terrible dreams. He’s so angry. What if he never forgives me?” I slide into a lounger.

  “I might not think he’s good for you, but he loves you. His emotions are written all over him every time he looks at you. He’s mad. He should be mad. But he shouldn’t be mad at just you. He needs to point some of that anger at himself.”

  “That won’t be the first place he points his anger, and we both know it.”

  “Robert Morris, the attorney, called Mom this morning to say Wyatt’s manager was sniffing around looking for the best family lawyer on the island.”

  “And there’s the anger.” I’m not sure what emotion I should feel at the realization Wyatt’s exploring his legal options, but all I can muster is numbness. “Is he going to try to take her from me?”

  “He’s not that dumb.” Nikki huffs out a breath.

  My phone pings in my pocket, and I take it out. Wyatt’s at the gate. My day is rushing at me full tilt, and I can’t get my bearings. “He’s here, and I haven’t told Haven.”

  “She already knows. Let him tell her. Maybe letting him see her joy will ease the sting a bit. She’s going to be so happy he knows.” Nikki opens the patio door. “I’ll let him in. Give you two a buffer.”

  I sit on the lounge chair for a beat, gathering myself for the hard day ahead. Whatever he says or does, I have to keep the right attitude, for Haven’s sake.

  When I step into the house, Wyatt is in the kitchen doorway, with Nikki in the lead. Haven is still seated at the table in the living room, the board game laid out. Wyatt’s jaw tenses, and he gives me a penetrating stare before glancing away, but he hangs back in the kitchen, and I go to him. I swallow the anxiety bubbling into my throat.

  Nikki returns to the board game with Haven with an enthusiasm I know she doesn’t feel, chattering to keep Haven distracted. She keeps glancing at me and Wyatt.

  Wyatt removes a stress ball from his pocket. This one is a different color than the one he had the other day. Probably wore the first one out. He’s so silent. Nervous energy dances along the surface of my skin. I expected him to march in here and declare himself her father. Give me his rage over the silent treatment any day. Give me his overconfidence instead of this strange uncertainty I sense.

  “I take it you haven’t told her?” he mutters, his focus glued to Haven.

  “She’s going to be over the moon.” I keep my voice pitched low.

  “You know who should have been over the moon? Me. Nine years ago when she was born.”

  The ice in his eyes makes me flinch. As angry as he is, something is holding him back from going to her. “Haven, honey, can you come over here for a minute?” I say. Nikki has done an amazing job containing her this long. The tension in the room must be palpable. I’ll have to work on concealing that for her sake.

  Haven gets off her chair and rushes over to where Wyatt and I are standing. Wyatt crouches. He understands a cue better than anyone. His Adam’s apple bobs, and a twinge of anxiety pierces my heart. “You’re already aware of this, but I only found out last night . . .”

  Haven’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything. She glances at me, and I wipe away a few stray tears before nodding.

  “Dad!” Haven flings her arms around his neck, burying her face in the hollow. “You’re my dad.”

  “I am. I am your dad.” His voice is hoarse, but he manages to get the confirmation out.

  Haven squeals and laughs. She steps back from him, looks him over, and then tackles him again. Wyatt lifts her into his arms and smooths back her long hair off her cheek. The tenderness is overwhelming.

  “I want to see your room. I want to know everything.” He scans her face. “I want to know you. I’m so sorry I already missed so much.”

  “But you came.” She puts her small hands on either side of his face and grins. “I was sure you’d come. I knew it.” Haven’s smile is triumphant. “We knew it, didn’t we, Mom?”

  Looking at them through my tears, my heart is full, on the cusp of overflowing. All I’ve ever wanted is right in front of me.

  Wyatt doesn’t glance my way before Haven takes him back to her room. She natters away like they’re already the best of friends. Tears slide down my face. When I look at Nikki, she’s crying too.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Wyatt

  Present Day

  When I walk down the hall to Haven’s bedroom, Ellie’s insistence I not come back here makes more sense. The walls are covered in pictures of her and Haven through the years. I want to stop and stare at them—examine each one in minute detail. Tear apart the memories and slot myself in. If only rectifying the mistakes in your past was that easy. Instead of dwelling on what I can’t have, I carry Haven until she tells me to turn into a doorway.

  The room is a monstrosity of pink. I set her down, awed and horrified at the explosion of color. She beelines to a photo on her dresser. Me and Ellie at the MTV awards. I take it from her. Isaac took this picture. Pain shoots through my heart, and a familiar ache spirals out. The agony of missing him still takes me by surprise; it just flares a bit less often than it did at the start.

  “That was a great night.” I hand the frame back. “Your mom and I were really happy.”

  “Mom says I am the product of a lot of love—almost too much love.” She sets it in its place with almost exaggerated care.

  “She does, does she?” I examine her artwork, pictures, mementos of places she’s traveled, things she’s done with Ellie and her family. A life she’s lived without me.

  “Do you think that too?” Haven asks. “Did you love my mom like that?”

  I turn and consider Haven’s question. Rage at Ellie simmers inside me, but underneath my anger is an emotion that’s been my constant companion for years. Dulled by the drugs for too long, but always present nonetheless. “I will love your mother until the day I die. I’ll probably love her even after that, wherever that is.”

  “I’m not sure you can love someone after you die?”

  “Someday I’ll explain that idea better.”

  Haven grabs artwork and a few of her other treasures to show me. I sit on her bed, clutching the newest piece she’s shoved into my hands.

  “You like art?” That doesn’t come from me or anyone in my family.

  “No, I like sports better. They’re all pretty easy for me. Mom says I’m like you that way.”

  “Did your mom talk about me a lot?” I don’t know my daughter, but she believes she knows me. Such a strange imbalance to grapple with on top of everything else.

  “If I asked, yeah. Oh!” She goes to her bookshelf and removes a thick scrapbook. “We used to go through this when I was younger and I asked about you. Do you want to see?”

  “Sure.” I set the book on my lap. On the cover is the same photo of me and Ellie from the MTV awards.

  Haven perches on the bed beside me and helps me keep the large pages open. My heart pounds when I realize what Ellie has done. The scrapbook starts with snapshots from Love Letters from Spain, and then each page progresses from there. She mapped our relationship.

  Haven is talking, but I’m having a hard time concentrating. She’s retelling the story of me and Ellie. She’s animated, completely into the tale, knows that period of my life almost better than me.

  My heart cracks into a million pieces. What has Ellie done? Why would she do this? Her telling me earlier this week I was everywhere and nowhere makes a new kind of sense. Snippets of Haven’s stories penetrate my brain. The memories. So many recollections she saved for our daughter.

  “Dad?” She stops mid-sentence. “Why are you crying?”

  I touch my face and realize she’s right. I brush the tears aw
ay self-consciously. Not that I don’t cry. Hell, I can cry on cue. But this is different. I’ve never cried and not known I was crying. The piercing pain in my chest needs to go away. This ache needs to be softened. A little something to dull the pain. So many options. My tongue remembers the sensation of a Percocet rolling around, being flipped to the back of my throat. One pill would make this ache go away.

  Get a grip, Wyatt. I am not going there.

  “Happy tears.” Not sure I sound convincing. Not much of an actor at the moment. Out of the corner of my eye, I realize Ellie is standing in the doorway. I stiffen at her scrutiny. “We’re fine, Ellie. You don’t need to watch over us.”

  She runs her hands down her face and brushes a few tears away, but she doesn’t say anything.

  “Why is everyone crying? We get to be a family now, right?” Haven looks between me and Ellie.

  “That’s a complicated question,” Ellie whispers.

  “Why?” Haven asks.

  “There are grown-up things your dad and I have to sort out.” Ellie’s shoulders rise and fall almost imperceptibly.

  Dad. So weird. I pat Haven’s leg. “No matter what goes on between your mom and me, I’m in your life forever. You’re not getting rid of me.”

  She flings herself at me, hugging me tightly. I stare at Ellie over Haven’s shoulder, and I set my jaw. She’s not locking me out of any more moments with my daughter.

  Ellie vanishes from the doorway. The urge to follow her is instinctual. I release Haven and half rise from the edge of the bed, but Haven drags me back. “You didn’t finish looking at the book.” She flips through the pages in rapid succession.

  “Sorry.” I examine her as she sorts through the story of my life. At her hairline is the tiniest scar. Hesitantly, I brush her hair aside. She freezes and her expression turns quizzical. “What happened here?” I ask.

  Haven runs her index finger over the mark. She looks thoughtful for a moment and then grins. “Australia. I banged my head on a reef when Mom and I tried to learn to surf.”