And then the last one, “Ellie, please call me back. You have to know this isn’t true. I love you, please call me back.”
That one hurt the most, only because he seemed unable to explain why this had happened, but I could still hear the sorrow in his voice. It seemed he was just as unhappy, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he had hurt me, or because he couldn’t get through to me since I’d found out. Part of me was tempted to call him, to find out what had happened, but then I remembered the images I couldn’t remove from my mind, and anger overpowered my sadness.
Looking through my phone I could see he tried calling other times without leaving messages, and that he had sent dozens of texts, begging me to call him or text him back. The last one made my heart ache significantly.
Rhys: I know this is hard; the distance, the magazine…but it isn’t what you think. Please don’t doubt me, don’t give up on me. I SWEAR I would never hurt you.
Curious to see what else he would say, I left my phone on after that. In some sick way I found satisfaction in his fighting for me. It made me respect him for trying even though he had betrayed me, and yet I still wanted him. I wasn’t sure if his fight was a lost cause or not, even though I doubted I could never be with him again. I left the apartment and left my phone behind, heading to Daunt books for distraction, only to retreat when I saw photographers outside my building. I couldn’t stay trapped forever, and Tuesday I had courses again, so I pushed through the door and the crowd and continued on my way. I ran them off after ignoring them for a few blocks.
Going to the bookstore wasn’t the smartest idea, because in their magazine section were newer tabloids that read Trouble in Paradise with photos of Rhys upset and pushing through similar crowds. He looked exhausted and angry, with deep bags under his eyes. But the one that killed me depicted me crying on the cover and read, Rhys Dumped Over Dead Fiancé. I bought that one and I barely made it out of the store without sobbing. They had investigated Aaron, even had yearbook photos of him, and described his death and my move like some soap opera. It brought me to my lowest point and when I got home I called him.
I only called because I knew he would be on set and couldn’t answer. It was cowardly, but it was my sole opportunity to speak my piece while escaping unharmed by his false explanations.
“Rhys,” I whispered. “I don’t know why you did it, or why I ever thought it was a good idea to give you my heart. I guess you’re a good actor for a reason. You proved I was stupid enough to think I could actually be that lucky again. Thanks for the reality check, lesson learned.”
My words hurt me just as much as I knew they would hurt him, but I had to get them out. I had to let him know the level of disloyalty I’d been dealt. I thought sharing it would make me feel better, but it hadn’t. And I pathetically hoped he would call me after, beg me to hear him out, but he didn’t. That night my apartment was quieter than ever, and the next morning I awoke to one chime on my phone that proved he was hurt, but wasn’t quitting on me.
Rhys: I would never give up on you, even when it seems you’ve given up on me. Coming Back For You - Maroon 5
∞
I made it three hours without listening to the song to become aware that as soon as Rhys touched down in London, he’d be coming to my door. I considered planning a trip to get away, yet I didn’t want to miss seeing him one last time. As stupid as that was, I wanted to masochistically confirm I’d made a mistake in loving him. I wanted to look into the eyes that I had loved, the same ones that fooled me. The song played repeatedly over Friday and Saturday, only stopping twice when I ignored Lena’s call and when I called my mother.
I avoided calling her because I wasn’t sure if I’d get a pep talk, a lecture, or worse, a campaign for Rhys. When Aaron died she was both my strongest ally and worst enemy. She drove me crazy trying to fix a situation that just wasn’t repairable, and I didn’t want her unsolicited help this time. I just needed my mom.
She understood what I needed, having correctly assessed my silence over the days, that I was finally ready for someone to listen. After hearing me vent, cry, and pitifully laugh at the absurdness of the situation for over an hour, my mother repeated John’s question.
“Have you actually spoken with him?”
“No. He sent me that song and after that it’s been silence. I think he was trying to ask me to hold out till he could return, but I don’t know what he expects.”
“Aren’t you curious to hear what he has to say? Don’t get me wrong” she scoffed. “We’ve seen the photos, your father is livid.”
“Yes and no, mom.”
In all honesty, I did want to, but I was terrified of what I’d actually hear. What if he told me that yes, he’d made a mistake, but still wanted me? Or that it wasn’t true and I had been awful not trusting him? What if he realized I wasn’t worth the trouble, and found someone better in my absence? Or perhaps he had come to his senses and concluded I could never trust him with all my baggage. The open-ended answers left me too afraid to talk to him.
My mother knew I was thinking, allowing us to sit in silence till she asked if I wanted to talk to my dad. I declined for the moment, and told her that overall I was surviving, but the saddest I had been since I lost Aaron, and that was all I had to say for her to understand. I added the last part for good measure, “It’s like I’ve been slapped in the face and punished for trusting.”
“I know, but remember how you were after Aaron? And then you became stronger. You’ll do the same now, you’re the strongest person I know, Ellie.”
“I love you,” I sobbed.
“You too. Call me whenever, okay?”
There was a comfort in her voice and our conversation that made me wish I’d done it sooner. I fell asleep shortly after, feeling the slightest bit lighter, and maybe even a tiny bit hopeful that life would go on, again.
∞
I slept for 12 hours straight and actually felt okay in the morning. While making myself my first proper meal in days, I heard a soft knock on my door that made my body freeze and my stomach tumble. I assumed it was John checking on me, but then I wondered if it was a package from him or paparazzi that somehow got into my building. I didn’t move, waiting to see if they’d knock again or if it was a mistake, but then I heard it again, harder that time, accompanied by a voice. His voice.
“Ellie, I know you’re in there, I can hear you cooking. Please open the door.”
He had come all this way in the middle of filming, but why? Why fly across the world to see the girl he had cheated on and whose heart he had shattered? It didn’t make sense. I walked quietly to the door and stood there staring at the peephole, contemplating whether I wanted to actually look at him or not. I missed his face, the lines by his eyes, the freckles scattered around his skin, all of him. But I also despised him and knew that seeing his face was not only my weakness, but that it would infuriate me, being the same one in photos of unfaithfulness.
I turned back around, making noise on purpose and grabbed all the tabloids I had thrown in the trash. Back at the door, I slipped them under one by one, feeling them crash into his feet. Then, I finally looked through the door. Rhys looked down at all the paper strewn across his shoes, bent over and picked them up. He looked at them and shook his head slowly, while his mouth formed a tight disappointed line.
“Ellie, I know you’re watching me…” he looked up. Very seriously he said, “Look into my eyes for a second.”
Rhys looked directly at the view hole as if he could see me behind it. “Please, this is a huge misunderstanding. I just need to talk to you.”
He looked back down at the images and when his lids lowered, they forced water to well over his eyes. He wasn’t crying, or sobbing like I had been, but he was notably hurting. I wasn’t sure if it pleased me in my anger, or if it made my gloom more weighted. I couldn’t resist opening the door and watched relief pour over him as his eyes shot up and saw mine. But as I moved aside, his alleviation disappeared and he came in, thr
owing the magazines on my kitchen counter aggressively before turning back to face me. Out of habit, Rhys reached for me but pulled away when I winced. And then he became angry.
“Fine,” he said through his teeth. “I’m going to talk, okay?” I nodded. “Don’t you trust me? Don’t you know me?” he asked, hoping I’d say something, but I didn’t. I just observed how awful and exhausted he looked. He seemed defeated at witnessing such void in my emotions.
“Ellie,” he put his hand on his forehead and dragged it over his eyes. “I told you that the press were brutal, and that you can’t believe anything because they misconstrue lies to make money. I want you to really look at these pictures,” he said, shoving them in my direction. “Tell me what you see. Look at her!”
I leaned forward, doing my best to maintain my composure as I stared at the evidence of his infidelity. I wasn’t sure what he was pointing out at first, but then it became evident as I deliberately studied the woman. She was wearing a dress similar to the one I’d worn to the Cicada Club, the night on the beach, but the pattern and color were different. Mine had been covered in tiny butterflies and birds, and hers was polka dotted. But then he came closer and said, “Look at this one,” while pointing at one where you could make out her ear and cheek. Bile rose in my throat as I eyed Rhys’ joyful cheek pressed against hers. But then I looked even closer. She was wearing the exact earrings my grandmother had left me, ones I’d worn that night.
The girl in the photo was me, except she wasn’t. Her complexion was darker, and her hair lighter, her calves thicker, but it was obviously me in some way or another. They had edited her clothes and features, photoshopping me to sell magazines, and I’d ruined my relationship as they profited. I was so busy mistrusting him, I assumed the worst before seeing what was clear as day.
“I’m such a fool,” I whispered. “I was so sure you betrayed me.”
Rhys stepped away and crossed his arms, slowly pacing my apartment. He was quiet for a while, choosing his words carefully no doubt. I expected him to tell me it was okay, that he understood and loved me, but his words crippled my optimism.
“You know, at first I tried sympathizing with you, knowing how this must have looked… but now I’m glad it happened.”
“What?” My heart dropped.
He was so cold and distant, and I realized though he’d been in my home for at least ten minutes, we hadn’t touched once. His lips twitched into a small mocking grin. “You heard me. I’m glad this happened because you alleged me a liar, when it proves it’s you that lied to me.”
“Rhys.” He flinched hearing me say his name and I saw him struggle not to grab me. “I haven’t lied to you once.”
“You said you trusted me,” he spat out, his tone harsh and angry. I didn’t respond and he continued, “You believed strangers,” he grabbed the magazines, “before you thought to trust me and my heart. The one that has done nothing but love you despite all your troubles, your flaws…the same heart you claimed shared your soul. You doubted me when I gave you no reason to,” he cried.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed out, my voice constricting with emotions. I had been looking down as he spoke and finally met his eyes again. “Pictures don’t lie.”
“Except these did!” he shouted again. “And I’d warned you as much, yet you still distrusted me,” he added pointing to his chest. “I can’t even look at you right now. I have loved you so intently, and I thought in being with me, sleeping with me, and in our talks during your visit, that we had made progress, that we were on the same page.”
“We are,” I reached out and it was he that pulled away.
“We aren’t,” he shook his head. “I flew out here for one night because I thought if I saw your eyes, I’d still see your trust and love, but the way you looked at me when you opened the door said it all. You don’t trust me and you never will, at least not completely.”
“Rhys, it’s hard for me, please understand—”
He broke in turning towards my door. “I’ve been nothing but understanding! And yet you gave up on me at the first opportunity. How could I ever trust you? How can I put faith in our relationship when I have to worry you’ll give up at the drop of a stupid photo manipulation? After everything we’ve been through, with how devoted I’ve been to you, you owed me more than that.”
Opening the door, he stood there to deliver one last statement. “After the way I’ve loved you, I assumed you loved me the same.”
“I do. I’m so sorry,” I cried out.
Rhys began walking into the hallway and I chased after him. “You’re leaving? Even though you’re only here one night?”
“Yes.” He turned around. “It fucking kills me, but I have to leave. I can’t look at you. All I want to do is hold you but when I look at you my heart breaks again, and I can’t handle it right now. You’re not even wearing your necklace, Ellie.”
“Rhys, please…” I had only taken it off because its weight choked me in the aftermath of the scandal.
“Don’t. Don’t try to get me to stay. I’m going to my place, I can’t be here with you.”
I watched him walk down my steps and avoid my gaze as he turned the landing.
∞
I sat on the sofa staring at the photos. He was right; I had ruined everything with incredulity when he’d been nothing but perfect. I thought he had broken my heart, but it ended up that I had taken his and stomped all over it. All because I shut him out, again. Maybe if I had called him or tried communicating, he could have explained. He would have set my mind at ease how he always did, but instead I proved that I hadn’t really grown at all.
I ignored him as I did early on, and I still vacillated between trust and hesitation, despite his thousand promises that only I owned his heart. I called Anne sobbing when I realized I’d ruined everything, and she managed to calm me and said I should go to him. I lacked the courage though and sat numbly on my sofa for hours with dried eggs still on the stove.
I was hungry, but too sad to move, yet simultaneously pleased to know he was in the city. But for what? He didn’t want to be near me. I’d gone too far this time and ruined such a good thing. In our seven months, Rhys had never shouted at me, or called me out on my hesitance, but he had finally reached his breaking point because, after all, he was human. His heart was as vulnerable as mine. He had just held out until he couldn’t anymore. I’d broken it. It seemed I’d broken him, too.
I tried calling him after an hour of staring at my phone, begging it to ring. As his rang my stomach was in my throat, only to drop when I got his voicemail. I wished I could take everything back, that I had just called him to find out the truth. Recalling the harsh words I had left in my message fueled the guilt in my gut, and even though my heart suspected Rhys could never hurt me, my head got the worst of me. Seeing him should have made me happy, but all I noticed was pain I’d put in his eyes.
With a need to get out of my tiny apartment, I got dressed and started walking through London. Eventually, I ended up on the Tube and got off at Primrose Hill. There were a dozen photographers at his neighborhood gate that captured me going in. It drove me crazy, but I was too busy to notice as I appreciated I was still on the entry list. It gave me hope that he wanted me there, only to falter when I considered maybe he hadn’t gotten around to removing me.
Each step towards his door filled me with more anxiety and dread, but I had to try. He deserved that and more. When Rhys opened the door he didn’t immediately let me in and blocked the way with his gorgeous body. He was in pajamas and appeared cheerless, his eyes wet and red.
“Rhys, I know you’re mad, but I need to ask you two questions.”
The love of my life pursed his lips and crossed his arms with a slight nod.
“You swear you didn’t cheat on me, right?”
His eyes rolled up to the ceiling and watered, and then he looked down at me, shook his head, and tried closing the door. “Go home, Ellie.”
I pushed the door open, forcing my w
ay inside. “No! I need you to answer me and then I’ll leave.” He locked it behind me and turned when I said, “Answer me, please.”
Looking down, Rhys bit his lip, straining to control his emotions. When his eyes met mine, he shook his head softly and blinked back tears. “I would never. I have no reason to want anyone but you.”
I noticed he said have, and not had. I nodded.
“What’s your second question?” he sighed. “I really want to be alone.”
I cleared my throat and pushed back my fears. The possibilities of answers terrified me, but I had to ask. “Do you still love me?”
Rhys laughed, but it wasn’t jovial, or malicious, just sad and weak. He caught my questioning glance and his shoulders dropped.
“I wouldn’t be in London for less than twenty-four hours if I didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s three questions.” He crossed his arms again.
“Please,” I begged, distracted by his biceps I wanted around me.
“You know what it means…I came back for you because even though it kills me, I still love you.”
We both nodded, but his was sad, as though he wished he didn’t love me. It was all I needed to hear though, and I walked toward him slowly and grabbed his hand. I was surprised he allowed it, but when I looked up I could see my touch hurt him.
“Rhys,” I whispered and put my other hand to his face. He turned away avoiding my caress.
“Don’t,” he said still holding my hand. “Don’t touch me as if everything is fine.”
“Please, Rhys. Please let me talk.” I grabbed his cheek again and stroked the rough stubble on his tight jaw. He was so wounded and angry, and wouldn’t look into my eyes, so I looked down at his chest.
“I don’t know what to do, but I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how much I regret hurting you.” I started weeping and my voice shook, but I pushed through it. “I messed up,” I admitted, holding his hand quietly for a few minutes. I hadn’t met his gaze because I was too afraid if I did, I’d see that he had given up on me, that he was done. It didn’t matter that he had just solidified his love moments before.
For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) Page 35
