by Sian Ceinwen
The sickness and worry that Heather had been feeling before hit her again with full force, but she managed to keep her face free from expression. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. But why hadn’t she heard from anyone yet? What reason was there for that? It couldn’t be true; it could not be that Harrison hadn’t called her because he was busy fucking someone else.
Heather managed a casual laugh and looked at the reporter who had shown her the photo, the sheer delight in being the person to show her this was reflected in his face.
“You’ll have to come at me with something better than a shitty Photoshop if you want a reaction from me. Excuse me, but I think my luggage might be here.”
She shrugged and tossed her hair behind her before striding confidently through the group to get to the baggage carousel.
“It’s not Photoshopped!” She heard someone yell from behind her.
“The authenticity of the photo has been verified! What do you say to that, Miss York?” cried the voice of the man who had shown her the picture.
She said nothing, ignoring them and the very interested looks she was getting from the airport goers around her. Her phone was buzzing in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see the name she’d wanted to see all morning on the screen—Harrison Fletcher.
Heather sent his call to voicemail; she couldn’t answer right now. Her mind was whirling as she saw her suitcase appear and was grateful that Callum’s was only a few suitcases behind it on the carousel. The reporters were still calling out questions, getting more and more disgusting with what they were asking, obviously trying to get a reaction from her.
“Are you okay, Miss York?” Callum asked her quietly.
Heather nodded stiffly. She wasn’t okay, though. The picture couldn’t be real, but at the same time, she felt like it very well could be. Everything was slotting into place for her, especially Harrison’s lack of contact this morning. Was he fucking some other woman while Heather was leaving a voicemail for him about how much she was missing him last night? Who took this picture? Clearly, it had been leaked before Harrison was even awake, and while she was on the plane.
She needed to talk to him. She needed to know his explanation. She needed to be sick. Callum was getting their suitcases, and she wheeled both hers and her carry-on so he would still have a hand free to deal with the paparazzi. It felt like everyone in the airport was watching her now; the other passengers all seemed curious about what was going on. Some were looking at their own phones, then staring up at Heather.
She worked to keep her face completely expressionless as they made their way through the airport to the area where Callum had parked the SUV in short-term parking. It wasn’t too far, but it was, quite possibly, the longest walk of Heather’s life. She needed to fall apart. She needed to search the internet and look at that photo again. She really needed to be sick.
By the time Callum opened the SUV’s door to allow her to climb into the sanctity of its interior, she felt like she might break into pieces. He closed the door behind her, and she heard the people continuing to scream questions at her as he opened the trunk and put their luggage inside. He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned on the car.
“Here, Miss York. I got this for you in case your hangover was still bothering you, but I think you might need it for another reason now.”
He handed her one of the barf bags from the plane, and she took it, grateful for his forethought. He started driving away, and she managed to hold off until the group of paparazzi was well behind them before opening it and depositing her breakfast into it. Her phone was buzzing again, and Harrison’s name was on the screen, but she didn’t get to it in time before it was diverted to voicemail.
She unlocked her phone, seeing that she had multiple missed calls and text messages. Instead of looking at them, she opened her browser. The search result from earlier was still up and the page refreshed, this time it was full of headlines like “Cruise Control cheating scandal!” and every picture was the one of Harrison and the other woman.
Heather clicked on it and felt like she might puke for the third time today as she recognized who it was—Madeline Turner, Cooper’s assistant. It felt like the world was spinning around her as she realized with complete certainty that this picture was real. She’d felt like it was before, but there was simply no way that this could have been Photoshopped this believably.
Harrison had cheated on her last night. She finally gave way to the tears that she’d managed to hold back for the last half hour. Her phone was buzzing again, this time it was Sebastian’s name on the screen, but she couldn’t answer it. She needed to talk to someone, anyone, to find out what the fuck had happened, but she was sobbing so loudly that there was no point answering right now.
Callum drove in complete silence. Normally, they would chat away as he drove her around, but it was nice that he was respecting her need to lose herself. She worked so hard in life to make sure that people saw this cool, calm, and collected persona from her, but she was human like anyone else. Her phone lit up again, but this time it was Ally’s name on the screen, and she didn’t give a shit that she was crying as she answered her friend’s call.
“Heather? Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Is it true, then?” The concern was evident in Ally’s voice.
“Yes,” Heather managed between sobs.
“I’ve been trying to talk to Hayden, but he hasn’t replied to my texts, and I figured you were on the plane. I just saw pics of you at the airport, those assholes.”
Heather tried to reply, but couldn’t; she just kept sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m here for you, hun. If you need me, any time, day or night. Just call me,” she paused but continued when it became apparent that Heather wasn’t going to say anything, “I’m going to let you go now. Stay strong.”
Her phone was beeping in her ear that another call was coming through, right as Ally hung up. It was Harrison, calling her again. She answered his call, unsure what he could possibly say to explain what he’d done.
“Angel?” his voice was breaking her heart; it had the same effect on her senses as usual, which killed her.
“Why?” It was all she could get out as she continued to cry.
“I’m sorry, Angel,” she could hear that he was devastated, too, “they think we were drugged. I’m at the hospital getting tested.”
He had been drugged? What the hell? How? She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and even through her concern at what he’d just told her, Heather’s brain kept throwing up the image of him and Maddy in bed together.
“There’s a picture,” she managed to get out.
“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I can’t even explain how bad I feel. I love you so much.”
“You fucked Madeline, though.”
Heather didn’t hear his reply to that, as she dropped the phone, grabbed the barf bag that she’d carefully set aside before and vomited into it, again. She kept going until her stomach was empty, and even then, she couldn’t stop retching into it. After she’d finally finished, she grabbed a tissue and wiped her mouth before putting it in the bag as well. She closed it and put it aside again, then grabbed a bottle of water that Callum helpfully handed to her and took a swig.
Their call was still connected, and Heather picked up the phone and put it to her ear, “Harrison?”
“Are you okay?”
“No, I’m fucking not okay. What the fuck kind of question is that?” Her anger at everything that had happened had finally reached boiling point.
“I deserved that. I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re fucking sorry, Harrison. I get it.” She was being mean; she inhaled a deep breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth, “Tell me what happened.”
“We were at the dinner, next thing I remember, I woke up in bed…” he trailed off.
“With Maddy.” She retched but didn’t bother with the vomit bag now—there was nothing left to puke u
p.
“Yes. We’re all at the hospital. Cooper had a seizure, and he’s in intensive care. They think it was MDMA.”
“Ecstasy?” Heather gasped, “Who else?”
“Everyone at our table. They don’t think it was anyone else at the event, just us. They’re guessing it was in the wine that we got served.”
As far as reasons for cheating went, it was a good one. Her feelings of betrayal mixed with her love and concern for Harrison and her friends.
“Is everyone okay?”
“Aside from Cooper, yes. From what I know, Hayden made it up to his room alone and passed out, Sebastian fucked at least four different women, while Ariana and Gabriel had an epic night together.”
“And you fucked Maddy,” she couldn’t stop herself from adding in.
“I’m sor—” he started to say, then cut himself off, “The rest of Cooper’s team, I’m not sure about. I haven’t really spoken to them.”
“Just Maddy,” she added again, knowing she was being a bitch.
There was silence on the other end of the line; Heather’s heart felt like it was shattering into a million tiny pieces. She didn’t know if she could forgive him for this. She didn’t know that she couldn’t forgive him for this, though. If he’d been drugged, then he was as much a victim in the whole thing as anyone, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d slept with someone else. Someone she knew. He’d been fucking Maddy while Heather was wishing she was with him. It made her feel sick to think about, but she couldn’t turn off the movie reel of them together that was playing in her head.
“I love you, Harrison,” she said eventually, “when will you be home? We’ll need to talk.”
“I’m not sure,” he replied carefully, “I’ll call you and let you know.”
“Can you text instead?” she asked him, “I think it’s probably better if we stick to those until you get home.”
“Sure, angel.” He sounded broken.
She hung up the call without saying anything else and gave way to further sobs. Her phone lit up again, this time with Sebastian’s name, but she sent him to voicemail. She couldn’t summon the energy for another phone call. Instead, she sent him a text.
Hey Seb. Can’t talk. Feeling like fucking shit. Harrison cheated on me. I can’t even.
His reply was almost instantaneous.
We were drugged. We’re all in shock. Harrison is a mess.
Heather went back to her browser and saved the picture, then sent it through to Sebastian.
Yes, he looks it. Are you feeling okay, though?
It wasn’t fair to send the picture; she knew Sebastian had probably already seen it, but she couldn’t get it out of her head. How lovely, she thought, to have this permanent reminder of the time her fiancé fucked another woman.
Ouch. I’m sorry, Heather. If I’d been sober, I could’ve stopped him.
It’s not your fault. Fuck, it’s probably not even his fault. FML.
They were finally pulling in to the garage underneath her apartment building, and Heather couldn’t be more relieved. She put her phone in her pocket, and Callum helped her take her luggage upstairs. Once they’d gotten up there, he hovered near the doorway, looking uneasy.
“Will you be okay, Miss York?” he asked her, the concern evident on his face.
“Probably not,” she gave a hollow laugh, “but you can go, anyway.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t leave if I’m not certain of your safety,” he grimaced.
Fuck, he thought she might actually hurt herself, today, “I’m not suicidal, Cal. I’m not okay, but I’m not going to kill myself because my fucking fiancé stuck his dick in another woman.”
“Talking that way isn’t helping,” he frowned at her, “there are plenty of ways to be unsafe that don’t go that far.”
“I don’t need a nanny, just a bodyguard. Go. Home.” She glared at him.
“I’m sorry, Miss York. I will give you your space, but I can’t leave when you’re like this. I wouldn’t be doing my job.” He shrugged casually.
“Then you’re fucking fired. Leave.” She was angry; she wanted space to fall apart in private.
“You didn’t hire me, Heather. I’m sorry, but I can’t leave unless my employer tells me to.”
On some level, she was grateful for this. She liked Callum, and she recognized that she was lashing out right now. She didn’t really want him fired, just gone from the apartment for now. She pulled out her phone and texted Harrison.
Tell Cal to go home. Now.
Her phone rang, and it was Harrison’s name on the screen. She didn’t want to talk to him. It was clear from her interaction with Callum that she couldn’t trust what came out of her mouth at the moment, so she rejected the call.
I said to fucking text. Tell him to leave me the fuck alone.
It didn’t take long for Callum’s phone to start ringing, and he picked it up and answered it.
“I understand,” he said, then paused before replying, “I don’t feel comfortable doing that.”
There was another pause as Harrison obviously said something to him, or asked a question.
“I am concerned about what Miss York may do if she’s left on her own. I don’t intend on intruding in her space, but unless someone else is here, I wouldn’t feel right leaving. Unless you’re planning on firing me, I’ll stay here. If you’d like to organize for a friend or family member to take my place here, that’s fine as well.”
Another pause, before Callum replied again to Harrison, “Understood, sir. I’ll see you when you get here.”
Heather glared at him, seething at the fact that he’d convinced Harrison that she needed a babysitter. At the same time, she understood that from a professional standpoint, he was doing the right thing. Why did they have to hire the best of the best? They should’ve gotten some shitty sub-par bodyguard who toddled off and left her alone.
“I’m sorry, Miss York.” He shrugged, then went and sat on a chair near the hallway, an obvious attempt to give her some semblance of privacy.
“I’m fucking sick to death of hearing people tell me they’re god damn sorry!” she yelled at him.
Heather headed to the kitchen, grabbed a tub of ice cream out of the freezer and a spoon from a drawer, then sat down at the kitchen table.
“Alexa, play songs about cheating on Spotify,” Heather called out to the room.
“Playing songs about cheating on Spotify,” Alexa answered back.
“Sorry” by Beyoncé started playing throughout the apartment from speakers that were wired into each room as Heather opened the tub of salted caramel Haagen-Dazs and began to eat it.
Chapter 14
CONTRA CONSILIUM MEDICINAE
IT WAS A LONG and awful day. Heather had never given a second thought to the shitty news stories that had ever been printed about her, Harrison, or the band. Not even during the ‘Ariel’ saga, which had definitely been the most intense news cycle for them. Perhaps she’d just had the luxury of it not being about her. More importantly, the luxury of it not being true the times that it was.
She was deep down the rabbit hole now, though. She’d read nearly every news article about Harrison cheating, even though they were all pretty much a variation of the same theme. He’d cheated, but did he do it because she was having an affair with Sebastian? Who was the other woman? Was the wedding off?
The last question was the one that made her feel the worst because she didn’t have an answer to that one. She wouldn’t know herself until she saw and spoke to Harrison. He’d texted her to say that he would be back about six o’clock tonight, and she felt nervous and sick whenever she thought about the conversation that she needed to have with him.
Then there were the comments. It seemed as though everyone in the world had an opinion on her relationship with Harrison, and they all thought the internet was the best place to express it. Sometimes she would see a particularly nasty one about her,
how she had almost certainly cheated on Harrison first, and Heather would go to the person’s profile and see what she could find out about them. Then she’d make her own personal assessment of their lives in her head.
Heather was aware that what she was doing wasn’t healthy, it was probably the kind of self-destructive behavior that Callum had been worried that she would indulge in, but he was leaving her to it. It was certainly the kind of thing she had told Ariana not to do when they’d been on tour together, and Ariana had seen stories about herself online.
She was reminded of the letter that she still hadn’t read, how she’d decided to wait until she returned to Chicago to read it because she was supposed to be happy now. Fuck. Wasn’t that a nice thought that she’d had. If only it had turned out that way. She could’ve been here, high on the success of Saturday Night Live and repairing her friendship with Ariana instead of waiting for her cheating scumbag fiancé to return home.
That wasn’t fair, though. He wasn’t a scumbag. They’d received the results of the drug test from the hospital. Harrison hadn’t texted her; it had been Gabriel who had let her know that the doctors’ suspicions were correct, and they all had MDMA in their system. Cooper had come out of ICU and been moved to the Special Care Unit. The police had met them at the hospital, taken all of their statements, and an investigation was underway.
Heather wished that knowledge could change something within her. It didn’t, though. She hated more than anything that she couldn’t simply be worried about Harrison, that she couldn’t just support him through what was almost certainly a traumatic event in his life. She couldn’t do that because, while he was under the influence, he had fucked someone else.
In their entire ten-year relationship, she had never once doubted his love for her. She had sent him off on the Heart Wide Open tour alone and with zero doubt in her mind that he would remain faithful to her. Their love had seen her through some of the toughest times in her life; when her dad had died of cancer, he had been there to see her through. Was their love strong enough to survive this? Or was it tainted by what he’d done?
