by L.H. Cosway
It could have been thugs looking for valuables, but why would they only break into one room? No, this felt like someone searching for information, and what with all the paparazzi following our every move, I wouldn’t put it past one of them to try something like this for an exclusive.
When I looked back to Annie, I saw that there were tears streaming down her face as she wrung her hands. “Ronan, my laptop is gone. Somebody’s taken it.”
I strode toward her and took her hands in mine, rubbing the inside of her wrists with my thumbs in an effort to calm her.
“The police are on their way. And don’t worry about the laptop. I’ll buy you a new one. Do you have everything backed up?”
She started shaking her head furiously. “No, you don’t understand. It’s not about replacing it. It’s about the information that’s on it. Shit, Ronan, I can’t….” Words failed her as she began to sob, and I pulled her tight to my chest, surrounding her with my arms.
All of a sudden, the cause of her panic struck me. She obviously had all of her Socialmedialite files on her laptop. If somebody broke into it, they’d be able to expose her as the anonymous blogger. Not to mention the fact that she still didn’t know that I knew. Something twisted inside me, something sharp and horrible. I didn’t like feeling that I was deceiving her, and I’m sure half of her alarm was down to the prospect of my finding out.
“Hush, love; everything is going to be fine. I’ll sort this,” I murmured just as there was a knock on the door.
Settling Annie on the edge of the bed, I went to answer it and was greeted by O’Hare and two policemen. I made sure to voice my dissatisfaction with their security measures loud and clear. O’Hare grew frazzled, assuring me that the price of our stay would now be complimentary. I wasn’t mollified by that, and I think he knew. I thought of the clusterfuck this could’ve been if the thieves had gotten Brona’s pictures and clenched my fists.
Thinking of someone taking Annie’s things pissed me off even more. I didn’t want the world to know who she really was just as much as she didn’t. She might have been thrust into the world of celebrity by being my girlfriend, but it would be a whole other story if her identity as The Socialmedialite became known. She was the Internet’s best-kept secret, and I’m sure those working in the media would sell their left kidneys for the exclusive.
I wanted to protect her so badly, and the fact that this was out of my control was hard to handle. I felt like wrecking the world just to keep Annie from exposure.
Making a concerted effort to calm down, I told the officers how we’d found the place, and O’Hare went to look for the security footage of the corridor outside our room. Patricia trundled in with tea and sandwiches at one point, disappearing into the bedroom to talk to Annie. I noticed her shut the door after a minute and wondered what they were discussing. Despite all this drama, my proposal was still at the forefront of my mind, and I knew that if Annie was uncertain about saying yes before, now she was positively terrified. The break-in couldn’t have come at a worse possible moment.
About a half an hour later, I was standing in the hotel’s monitoring room watching a lone male walk right up to our suite on the screen, fiddle with the lock, and then disappear inside our rooms. He was wearing a peak cap but no balaclava, and though the footage was grainy, I recognized the prick immediately. He was one of the more aggressive paps I’d dealt with and had been following Annie and me nonstop since we arrived in Dublin. I even knew his name because I heard another photographer call him Gavin once. After the police left to search for him, I thought about returning to the suite, where I knew Annie was still in turmoil, but my guilt and apprehension kept me away.
I didn’t want her to say she wouldn’t marry me, but I also needed to tell her that I knew she was The Socialmedialite. Before I did that, though, I needed a fucking drink.
At the bar, I acted completely out of character by knocking back three shots of whiskey all in a row. I noticed some women sitting close by eyeing me and grew irritated by it for some reason, so I didn’t stay long. I left right after the third shot of liquid courage and took the lift up to our suite. When I got there, Patricia was gone, but the rooms had been tidied. I found Annie sitting in bed with a cup of peppermint tea in her hands and a bathrobe on. Her hair was wet, and her eyes were red, indicating she’d been crying. In fact, by the looks of it, she’d been crying a lot, and I wanted to punch myself for not being there to comfort her.
“We have a lead on the thief,” I told her softly, standing in the doorway. She was staring out the window, not meeting my gaze. “I’m almost certain it’s one of the paps who’s been following us. Total shithead. There’s a good chance we’ll get your laptop back in one piece.”
Her eyes flickered to me then, and I saw her swallow. “You don’t understand. The first thing he’ll do is download my entire hard drive. It’s the information that’s valuable, Ronan, not the laptop.” Her voice went really quiet then as she whispered, “They’ll use it against me.”
Seeing her like this made me ache. I wanted to share her burden, tell her everything would be all right, but I couldn’t. I balled my fists and gritted my teeth.
“We’ll figure it out together, Annie. You’re not alone in this,” I tried to reassure her.
Her eyes were watery again, more tears building, and the look she gave me made my heart crack in two. “You won’t be saying that once you know the truth. You won’t want anything to do with me then.” A pause, before she continued under her breath, “Especially not marriage.”
I took three long steps into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. This was it. She could tell me now, and it would all be out in the open. I’d never have to admit I already knew. “What truth?” I murmured. “What are you talking about, darling?”
Our gazes locked, and the look of pure terror on her face told me she was never going to admit it. “Nothing. It’s just client information. It could cause trouble for them if the press gets its hands on private documents.”
“You’re lying,” I said. “Annie, don’t ever think there’s anything you can’t tell me. I love you. You know this. Nothing can change that.”
“I’m not lying,” she croaked.
Frustrated, I climbed to the center of the bed and took her face in my hands. “You are. Don’t be scared, love. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can. Tell me.”
I felt her pulse flutter against my fingertips, her breathing growing panicked. She was like a small bird trapped in a cage, desperate to break free. I hated putting her in the cage, so I decided to take the bullet instead. It felt like all the air went out of me as I exhaled heavily and said, “Look, you don’t need to worry about anything. I already know.”
Time slowed. Annie frowned. I swallowed. Every muscle in my body clenched tight, and comprehension lit in her eyes.
She moved away as far as she could go, which wasn’t far, and I hated how she was looking at me in that moment. She was looking at me like I was a stranger. Suspicion laced her words.
“You know what, Ronan? What do you know?”
In a heartbeat, the tables had turned, and now I was the one panicking. She tried pulling away from me again, but I gripped her shoulders, pinning her in place. “I know about your blog,” I said, trying to sound strong and confident and failing miserably. My voice was all scratchy and uneven. “I know that you’re really The Socialmedialite.”
Her eyes flickered back and forth between mine in disbelief for what felt like forever. When she finally spoke, it was just one word.
“No.”
“Please let me explain.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “This isn’t happening.” One second she was weak, distraught, but the next second, that all changed. She opened her eyes and glared at me. “How long have you known? How did you find out?”
“Your phone,” I confessed. “That time you lost it. You left it in my car. A tweet came on the s
creen from your Socialmedialite account. I put two and two together.”
Her chest rose and fell in anger, but I didn’t let her push me off. “That was weeks ago! You…I…we…we’ve exchanged emails since then. You pretended….”
“You pretended, too,” I said, cutting her off. “You pretended for longer; but I forgave you, and now you need to forgive me.”
“Get off me,” she fumed.
“Don’t run away from me,” I begged.
“I said, ‘GET OFF ME!’” she yelled, and my body went limp. I let go of her immediately, and she climbed from the bed, feet stomping on the carpet as she paced the room. I was shattering into tiny pieces as I felt her emotionally sever all ties. I couldn’t handle this. I was in too deep, and if she left me now, I’d never recover.
“I’m so sorry, love; please come here, and let me explain. Let me explain why I lied,” I said, sounding like a desperate man. She was the only woman I would ever be desperate for. I had to make this right.
She stopped pacing and turned to face me, speaking in stops and starts like she was putting pieces of a puzzle together in her mind. “You manipulated me. You wrote me emails looking for romantic advice, and you knew it was me all along. You wrote that email saying you loved me knowing I’d be the one to read it. You can’t just….” Her voice broke as tears took over. “You tricked me, Ronan!”
“I wasn’t trying to trick you. It was the truth!”
“The truth? Was it? Or has this all been a game? Did you send that email just so I’d let you fuck me?!”
Okay, now I was pissed. I stood from the bed and walked toward her, backing her up and slamming my hands into the wall behind her. I faltered a little when she flinched. “I don’t play games, and I’ve only ever been real with you, Annie. I sent those emails because I wanted you to know how I felt, but I knew that if I told you in person, I’d scare you off. Writing it down and letting you read it without having to respond gave you safety. No matter what you might think, you always come first for me. And I asked you to marry me because I want you to know I’m all in. You have me, body, heart, and soul.”
She closed her eyes when she spoke. “Please, stop. Just stop….”
A lump formed in my throat as I stepped away. Turning her head, she glanced at me then looked to the floor. Her voice was tiny when she spoke, staring at her feet, “Can’t you see? I feel…violated and exposed having you know, having anyone know.”
“Am I just anyone to you?”
She didn’t answer me. Instead, she shook her head and continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “Blogging…blogging has always been my biggest secret. This is probably going to sound crazy, but it’s the only place I can be free and completely happy—it’s the only place where I can be my true self without fear. If people know it’s me, then it’s not my escape anymore. You took that freedom away from me, Ronan, and I’m not sure if I can forgive that.”
I wasn’t a crier. In fact, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d actually cried in my life, but right then I felt a tear leak out. She was so, so damaged by her experiences, and writing was her way of escaping. But it had to be anonymous. That’s the only way it worked. And now she felt like I’d ruined it.
“I’d never tell anyone,” I began; but she cut me off, and her passion returned as she threw her hands out in anger.
“That’s not the point! That thief has my laptop. Soon he’ll know my secret and will sell it to the highest bidder. I’ll be hounded. My life will never go back to the way it was. It had been safe and comfortable, and though it might have been lonely, it was perfect for me. I wish I’d never met you! If I hadn’t, then none of this would have happened!”
My heart fell to the floor. I could literally hear the awful, bloody thump. I was done for. Her words cut into me like a knife. I must have looked completely miserable as I stood there, staring at her, begging her with my eyes not to do this.
She did it anyway, barely looking at me when she said harshly, “Do you have somewhere else you can stay? I’d like to be alone.”
“You’re angry. I get that. But if I go, will you talk to me in the morning? Give me a chance to explain?”
“Okay, fine.”
She wouldn’t quite look at me, but her words gave me a small piece of relief. I could fix this. After she’d had some time to let her anger dissipate, she’d hear me out.
“All right then. I’ll go,” I said sadly and began moving toward her. I needed to kiss her cheek, hug her, anything, before I left, but the look she gave me as I approached told me no. She couldn’t give me anything right then. I felt like a dying man as I walked out of the suite, barely enough strength to go down to reception and get another room for myself. The woman at the desk gave me an odd look, so I lied and told her we didn’t feel comfortable staying in a room that had been broken into. After I said that, she was practically falling over herself to offer me another suite.
Despite my exhaustion, I didn’t sleep a wink. Instead, I sat up watching mindless television and trying to resist the urge to return to Annie and force her to listen to me. I tried to convince myself that giving her space was the best idea and that forcing things with her had never worked before.
At six thirty the following morning, I took a shower to try to wake myself up and put on the same suit I’d worn to dinner the previous evening. Finding O’Hare at the concierge’s table, I asked him if the police had reported back about the theft. He smiled proudly and told me he’d just been about to come find me. They’d caught the thief and had returned the stolen belongings, which consisted of both mine and Annie’s laptops, our travel itinerary, and Annie’s tablet.
For the first time since yesterday, I felt like smiling. Annie would surely be over the moon to have her things back and might even be less angry with me. Carrying our stuff up to the suite, I wore a stupid, hopeful grin on my face, thinking I was going to make everything better. I threw open the door and called out her name. Receiving no answer, I called again and opened the bedroom door slightly, thinking she might still be asleep. My heart skipped a beat when I peeked inside.
The bed was empty. And on the dresser was a small piece of paper with a note.
Ronan,
I’m catching a flight home early. I can’t stay here anymore.
I’m sorry.
Annie.
***
I had my things packed and was organizing a flight within seconds of reading her note. No way. There was no fucking way I was letting her end things like this. Fifteen minutes later, I was outside and in a taxi headed for the airport. I tried calling her a bunch of times, but her phone was turned off which made me think she was probably in the air. I wondered how many hours I was behind her. Had she left early this morning, or had she simply gone the moment I left her last night?
Shit, I never should have left her. I couldn’t believe she left me. She said she would give us a chance to talk. But she didn’t. She lied, and that was the rub.
It didn’t take long for me to check my luggage and go through customs. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and my stomach was starting to tell me all about it by the time I arrived in the VIP lounge. It was unnerving. I never forgot to eat. Never. This thing with Annie was messing up my head big time.
I was just about to go in search of food when I stopped dead in my tracks; sitting at a table by the window were my paternal grandparents, Mick and Marie Fitzpatrick. They sipped on coffees and nibbled on breakfast muffins, barely talking to one another, with the silent urbanity of the upper classes.
Seriously, the world was shitting all over me today.
I wasn’t sure what it was. Perhaps I was cracking up after everything that had happened with Annie because I’d long ago given up trying to be a part of their lives, but I felt the urge to confront them. They’d never wanted anything to do with Lucy and me, and I’d always been angry about that, saying fuck them and their money. And for a long time I’d been holding onto that anger, letting it fester and make me fe
el like I was never quite good enough. That I could never reach whatever ridiculous standards these people had set for themselves.
They were probably jetting off on one of the many luxurious holidays I was sure they took every year. I stood for a moment and watched them as they started to bicker with one another about something. In that moment, I realized just how unimportant they were. How my anger over all those years, especially when I was younger, had been so pointless.
Without thinking, my feet were moving, and I was walking toward them. It had been a long time since I’d engaged them, and I’d been hurt by their rejection back then. Now I was looking at them with brand-new eyes.
I didn’t give two fucks about them anymore, and it was absolutely liberating.
“Ah, Gran and Granddad, how are ya doing this fine morning?” I chirped and pulled a chair up to their table. Marie startled comically, looking like a terrified owl, and Mick began to fidget uncomfortably in his seat.
“Ronan, this is unexpected,” he said, sitting up straight and looking over my shoulder—I was guessing for some sort of excuse to leave. He was old now, and I was in the prime of my life. He glanced at me warily, like he found my size unsettling. I took a small piece of pleasure from that. Once there was a time when I was weak and he was strong. Now the tables had well and truly turned. Reaching over, I snatched a bit of muffin from his plate and took a bite. Not because I wanted it but because I wanted to make him as uncomfortable as possible. The fucker had it coming.
“So, where are you off to this time? Wait, let me guess; it’s Mykonos again, isn’t it? You always were fond of the old Mykonos, Mick,” I said, taking the piss and giving him a nudge with my elbow. “They’ve got some fabulous nightclubs there, I hear. Great for when Gran wants to kick back with a good book and you can head out on the tiles, eh? Meet some like-minded male company.”
Marie was starting to become embarrassed, her eyes pleading with her husband to somehow get rid of me. Other people were starting to look, and if Marie Fitzpatrick hated anything, it was a scene.
