“Tell me why you were crying,” he whispered to her as he held her.
“Let’s not talk about it,” she said and kissed him.
They shared a measure of relief in the silence of making love. Their passion was the easiest thing to express and they clung to it with unmasked desperation. Afterward, he held her in his arms and it was the only place she wanted to be.
“I think I want to stop modeling,” Sophie said.
Gavin traced the curve of her breast with the back of his hand and waited for her to say more.
“It doesn’t make me happy anymore.”
“The modeling? Is that what is making you unhappy?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I just want to be at home, with you.”
“I’ll be back in studio soon, then tour, so . . . .”
His lack of enthusiasm for having her at home with him destroyed the hope she had felt earlier. She turned on her side away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears that spilled from her eyes and onto the pillow.
“What’s going on with you and Conor, then?” he asked.
“What do you mean? Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“He’s been a good friend, is all. He lets me cry on his shoulder about you.” She got up then and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Looking into the mirror, she noted her red-rimmed eyes and wondered what she was doing. Her husband seemed to have little interest in their marriage. Conor was in love with her and seemed willing to suffer all consequences to be with her. Part of her knew her best course of action would be to go to Los Angeles to be by herself for some time to grow strong in her own right. Not only could she do nothing to help Gavin with his troubles, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that he did not want her to even try anymore. She felt helpless, overwhelmed with the feeling that she was unable to make any meaningful change at this point.
Gavin knocking at the bathroom door pulled her from the downward spiral of her thoughts.
“Yeah?”
He opened the door and poked his head in. “You okay, darlin’?”
She gave him a weak smile. “I’m great. Should we go get dinner?”
“Sophie—”
“Really, I’m fine. I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“No, Sophie, please,” he said as he moved to her. He held her face in his hands and kissed her.
This familiar action brought a fresh round of tears to her eyes as she responded to his kisses.
“Please don’t cry, sweet girl. Please. Those tears break my heart. And Christ knows I deserve that much, but I just can’t take it,” he told her.
“What do you want, Gavin? What do you want from me?”
“Give us a smile,” he replied.
“Gavin—”
“Smile at me now like you did downstairs. God, that felt good—seeing you happy like that. You’re so beautiful.” He paused and considered her for a moment. “Does it mean anything to hear me say that to you, Sophie? Does it mean anything for me to say it?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “It still means everything to me, baby. You still mean everything to me.”
“And you’re all that matters to me, darlin’. Don’t think that’s changed, okay? You’re still the thing I love most in this world. No matter what else is going on, you’re all that I hold dear.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he affirmed. “And I need you to not give up on me, on us. I know I’m fucking up. Believe me, I know I’m an insufferable bastard. But, please don’t let go. Please.”
She nodded. “I won’t let go. I promise.”
Though built upon desperation, their connection was renewed that night with his plea and her promise. What went unsaid was that their devotion to each other would continue to be tempered by his dependence on cocaine.
Gavin suggested they take their minds off things by going out for dinner. He told Sophie he would take her anywhere she wanted to go.
“Anywhere?” she asked with a smile.
“Anywhere.”
“Okay, you might regret that. See, I’ve never in all the times I’ve been to Paris, had a good look at the Eiffel Tower at night. Will you take me somewhere we can see it?”
“I will do anything for you, darlin’,” he said.
While Sophie showered and got ready to go out, Gavin set about fulfilling two urgent needs.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Gavin had told Sophie he was taking her on an adventure and that she’d better dress warm. She was glad for her DKNY gray wool and down-filled mid-length coat when they were let out of their car at the large open square of the Place du Trocadéro. Sophie gasped as they were greeted with an absolutely breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower. She had seen it in passing, of course, but seeing it unhurried now and with Gavin was exactly what she had wanted. This location on the north side of the Seine offered enough distance to get a full view of the iconic amber-hued structure and surrounding city lights. They weren’t alone as there were other tourists sprinkled across the square, but it still felt like the night was all theirs.
“Here, let’s make a spot on the stairs,” Gavin said, leading her to an unoccupied area.
He opened the large bag he’d carried with them and placed a blanket on the stairs. Next, he pulled out a still warm baguette, a container of soft and hard cheeses, another with fresh and dried fruits, and one more with an assortment of olives. He also had a small box of dark chocolate truffles. The final but most essential item was the red wine and glasses. All of this had been quickly arranged by the seasoned concierge once Gavin confessed he needed a not so typical way to impress a very special woman.
Sitting there, she was mesmerized by the combination of the cool, fragrant air and the wondrous glow of the Tower. “It’s like magic,” she whispered to him and he smiled. “Have you ever seen anything more fantastic?”
“All the time,” he replied, looking at her.
Sophie smiled and squeezed his arm.
“This all right for dinner?” he asked as he set up their impromptu picnic.
Sophie looked at the spread with delight. Her smile faded, however, when she looked back at her husband and saw the tell-tale sign of him rubbing at his nose.
“How did you even get it here?” she asked.
“I had the help of the hotel’s amazing concierge, I have to admit.”
“No, not the food. The cocaine. I can’t believe you’re high right now, Gavin.” Though she was furious, her voice betrayed nothing more than mild disappointment.
“Don’t let’s ruin this, darlin’. Just relax and leave it be. Have some wine.” He looked her in the eye for a long silent moment. “It’s okay. Really.”
Finally, she nodded. “You are so incredibly lucky that I love you beyond all reason,” she said. She didn’t have the will to follow through on her disapproval. She would rather give him a pass so that the gesture he had made of taking her to this spot wasn’t spoiled. It wasn’t healthy to pick and choose what she would acknowledge, but it was part of her survival instincts in this unnatural new world.
“I am that indeed,” he said. He took her hand and pressed his lips to it before putting his arm around her shoulders. “Now, do you want to hear something ridiculous about that beautiful thing there?” He gestured to the glittering Tower.
“What?”
“It’s illegal to publish photos of it taken at night. Technically it would be a copyright violation to do so.”
Sophie laughed at the absurdity. “Guess we’ll have to stay for a while to get our fill of the view, then.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Conor hadn’t intended to reunite with Colette like this. As he predicted, she broke up with him in response to the tabloid news of his and Sophie’s outing. He made a weak show of apologizing and then agreed they could use a break.
Finding out that Gavin was deep into cocaine was a huge shock. He and his friend had sampled a variety of drugs before but th
ey’d never taken it to this level. Since he couldn’t penetrate Gavin’s denial about the level of his addiction, Conor’s next instinct was to confront Sophie. Doing so in the public way he had, in the lobby of the hotel, meant he couldn’t easily slink out of town. So, he concocted the plan to reunite with Colette, turning his visit into a surprise to see her. She ate up the drama of his unexpected presence and quickly took him back.
It meant he was then committed to watching alongside Gavin as their women walked in various shows. The two of them garnered almost more media attention than the designers’ work. Conor bristled under the relentless energy Gavin exuded as he had trouble sitting still. Conor recognized this as not something born out drugs, but rather his friend’s nervousness at his drug use being known. He also had to endure Gavin waxing poetic about Sophie and saying Conor deserved the same kind of ends-of-the-earth love. Gavin told him not to settle for Colette if she didn’t give him that feeling.
The time together shuttling from the runway shows for Saint Laurent to Valentino, then on to Miu Miu, and finally to Amaya Arzuaga was plenty for Conor, but Gavin insisted that the two couples share a late dinner that night.
They left the restaurant choice to Colette, and she chose the highly regarded Lapérouse. It offered exceptional service in an old-fashioned and traditional setting on the left bank of the Seine.
Once wine and starters were ordered, Colette sat back in her chair and openly examined Gavin. “You guys,” she said, looking at Conor and Sophie with mock excitement, “how come you didn’t tell me Gavin had this cute little coke habit?”
Gavin glanced at Sophie who was in turn staring daggers at Colette.
“Oh, come, Colette,” Conor said with an air of lightness he did not feel. “You know we’re not one of those couples who tells each other everything.”
“Is it funny to you, Sophie?” Colette asked.
“Why don’t we change the subject,” Gavin said.
Sophie couldn’t meet her friend’s eyes and instead played with the thick cotton napkin in her lap.
“So, how bad is it?” Colette continued, undaunted.
Gavin met her gaze and held it for a moment. “It’s nothing more than recreational,” he said with complete confidence.
The waiter approached the table then, addressing his comments to Colette in French and they spoke rapidly as he gave her a taste of the wine for her approval. When she nodded, he filled all their glasses and stepped away from the obviously tense group.
An uncomfortable silence engulfed the table. Gavin loosely rested his arm around Sophie’s shoulders and watched Colette defiantly, daring her to pursue her interrogation.
“It makes you impotent, you know,” she finally said, smirking.
“Not in my experience,” he returned.
“Keep doing it and it will. Its . . . charms do not last long.”
“You seem to have first-hand knowledge, Colette,” Gavin said. “How’d you come by that?”
“Oh, I’ve seen all kinds of things in this industry, including overdoses.”
“I can take care of myself, thanks very much,” Gavin replied.
Conor had purposely kept quiet, curious to see where Colette would take the conversation, and thinking that perhaps as an outsider she would be able to get through to Gavin where he could not.
“Yeah, I can see that,” she replied with a derisive laugh.
Gavin opened his mouth and then hesitated. Finally, he said, “Your man’s done it himself. Why don’t you worry about him?”
“You have?” both Sophie and Colette said in unison, turning their eyes on Conor. Their suprise was legitimate. Though he never hid his occasional marjijuana use, he had been careful to appear clean and in control in all other ways.
“Thanks very much, Gav,” Conor said. He locked eyes with Sophie, saw her mournful expression, and could guess she thought his confrontation of her the day before had been unfair. “Don’t look at me like that,” he told her. “I’m not a hypocrite. Yeah, I tried it. If we’re all suddenly going to be honest here, I’ve tried just about everything there is. But I’m no fucking addict. That’s the distinction and don’t pretend you don’t understand that.”
“Aye, don’t be getting the wrong idea,” Gavin said. “I’m not an addict.”
“Just stop,” Sophie said. “All of you stop. Please.”
The table went quiet. Conor watched Sophie as she looked out the window to the river. The dark water was softly illuminated by streetlamps. All he wanted to do was make everything okay for her, to protect her. But it wasn’t his place.
~
After an initial awkward period, dinner resumed and with a decidedly lighter mood. They spent almost four hours lingering over one excellent course after another and talking superficially. They also drank six bottles of wine and Sophie was feeling the effects more than any of them.
As they walked along the Seine afterward, the foursome split off into opposite couples. Gavin took the opportunity to speak with Colette as quietly as he could.
“Listen, Colette, will you do me a favor?” he asked.
“I don’t have any connections, if that’s what you mean,” she said.
“No, no. I’m hoping you can keep an eye on Sophie as much as possible. I’m worried that she’s not in a good state.”
“Of course she’s not, Gavin. And you know who you’ve got to blame,” Colette said.
Gavin put his arm around her shoulders familiarly. “I’m not an idiot. I know she’s hurting. You think that’s what I want? If anything ever happened to that woman, it’d be the absolute end of me. But until I can make things right, I want to know someone reasonable is looking out for her.”
Colette softened some. “You don’t have to ask. You know I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Thank you, Colette.” He took her hand and kissed it, even as she rolled her eyes at the gesture.
“Feeling better now that you’re nice and drunk?” Conor asked Sophie. They were several yards behind Gavin and Colette.
“Yes, I feel—”
Conor grabbed her arm to kept her from wavering. He steadied her and then put his arm around her to support her for the walk.
Sophie leaned her head into his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist. After a moment, she reached under his jacket for added warmth.
“You’ve got to sort yourself out, you know,” he told her quietly and then kissed the top of her head. “You need to find your own way, Sophie.”
“What does that mean?” she mumbled.
“Just that it might be to your benefit to think about doing what’s right for you. Take care of yourself. Gavin’s a grown man—he can manage, you know?”
She pulled away from him then. “He’s my husband and he needs me.”
“Then you better run along and get him,” he replied, removing his arm from her.
The wine had left her head swimming and her vision slightly blurred. Conor’s anger at her was another rude awakening. It had never occurred to her that he would lose patience with her, that his adoration had limits.
They stopped on the street while Gavin and Colette walked on.
“Don’t be angry with me, Connie,” she whispered.
He took her hand into his and squeezed it. “I’m not, honey. I just . . . I want more for you. You deserve better.”
“This is what I have right now. And anyway, it’ll be better soon. Gavin promised me.”
Conor nodded warily. “Okay, then. Let’s walk. You need to get that alcohol out of your system if you’re to do the shows tomorrow, aye?”
Sophie thought about the day that lay ahead of her, of the absurdly high heels and breathtakingly tight-fitting clothing she’d have to strut in under hot, bright lights and she grew dizzy. She leaned into Conor and was grateful once more when he didn’t hesitate in holding her up.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Sophie had stumbled upon her dream house while out driving aimlessly as a way to pass the time when Gavin didn�
�t come home for two days. It was in the posh neighborhood of Dalkey, known as the Irish “Bay of Naples” for its sea views and cliff-side villas. Though Sophie had fallen in love with it for its location and promise of privacy with a gated driveway, it wasn’t for sale.
When Gavin finally returned home, Sophie was too thrown by his changed appearance to fight with him. His head had been sloppily shaved by his drug buddies who thought it would be a hilarious prank. The drastic haircut didn’t faze him, and he urged Sophie to believe that in his absence he had been thinking of her the whole time. To prove this, he proudly showed her the newly tattooed gold ‘S’ over his heart.
But Sophie had seemed more interested in telling him about the house in Dalkey than swoon over his permanent body-art gesture. Knowing his escalation with partying since Paris was only sending their marriage in an increasingly dangerous direction, Gavin latched onto the idea that if he could purchase this dream home of Sophie’s, all would somehow right itself. This motivation served him well, as he was able to tap into his natural charm when they dropped in on the homeowner one afternoon. Gavin deftly explained to Mrs. Smythe that Sophie had happened upon the area and instantly fallen in love with her home.
She believed his initial claim that they hoped to build their own home modeled after hers and proudly gave them a tour, telling them in detail about the remodeling she had overseen. Despite its large size, the five-bedroom, six-bathroom, one-story house had a warm, inviting feel to it. The wall of windows along the living and dining areas combined with high ceilings and flood of natural south-facing light made for an elegant great room. Hand carved ceiling beams matched the dark walnut plank flooring and contrasted pleasantly with the pale walls. A two-sided gas fireplace was the only thing to break up the otherwise open floor plan.
It wasn’t until the homeowner was showing them her daughter’s room and was faced with poster-sized images of Gavin on the walls that she realized who he was. He imagined that vague tabloid stories of his mother’s abandonment, a bloody fight with his brother, and drug use played through her mind’s eye as she finally recognized him. Above all, she seemed to understand they were there for more than a tour.
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