by T. K. Leigh
“How often?”
Blowing out a long breath, she looks up. “I lost track over the years. After a while, I could predict when it would happen. It was a cycle. Things would be great. Then he’d grow increasingly irritable. It was only a matter of time before something set him off and he’d lose all control. The next day, he’d apologize, beg for my forgiveness, promise to get help, to never drink, to make it right, and he’d be the man I remember him to be when we first met.
“This went on for years. Each cycle got increasingly shorter and more volatile. In retrospect, I should have jumped ship ages ago, but when Ethan was in a good mood, he was sweet, charming, endearing.” She laughs to herself, a shimmer in her eyes. “I used to joke he could charm the skin off a snake. He had this energy you wanted to be around. And when he looked at you in a way that made you think he saw no one else, well… There’s nothing like that.”
“I’ve heard a few rumors that he…”
“Cheated on me?” she finishes. “I blamed myself for that, too. He blamed me for it, told me if I was the type of wife he needed, he wouldn’t have to seek comfort in another. I should have expected this, considering he was still married to his previous wife when we met. So I did what I could to be the perfect wife just to save some poor girl who was trying to make a name for herself in this industry from suffering the same fate I did.”
My mouth grows dry at her words, a chill enveloping me. “What made you seek out August? There must have been some triggering event, something that made you say enough.”
“The premier of my latest movie.” With shaky hands, she places her cup back on the table. “Until then, I’d done mostly upbeat romantic comedies. But my latest film was more of a romantic drama. A very sexy romantic drama.”
I nod. “I’ve seen it.”
“Honestly, I was surprised when Ethan suggested I throw my name into the hat for the lead, but he claimed he was okay with the nudity and intimate scenes. It wouldn’t be my first sex scene, but all my previous ones were lighter and more fun. When I got the part, he was thrilled for me. But after we got home from the premier, he was different…aloof, sinister. He accused me of enjoying those intimate moments too much, more than when we were intimate. I told him he was crazy, that I was merely acting. Things spiraled out of control, and before I could make sense of what was happening, he forced himself on me, demanding I tell him he’s the best lover I’d ever had.”
I cover my mouth with my hand, shaking my head. I can’t even begin to comprehend what she’s been through. I never would have imagined it was something like this. She’s been dubbed America’s Sweetheart, a gorgeous woman who came from nothing and made a name for herself in an industry that’s notoriously exclusive. I may have complained about Trevor’s lack of attention, especially later on in our relationship, but he always treated me well, always respected me. I couldn’t imagine feeling so trapped, so degraded, so worthless.
“You’d think that would have been enough for me to leave.”
“It wasn’t?”
She shakes her head. “No. I stayed, mainly because I believed his threats that I’d never work again, that he’d use his sphere of influence to make sure no producer or director ever hired me again. Not only did he have a long history in the movie industry, his father was Theodore Price, owner of half the world, it seemed. It didn’t matter that his father had been gone several years. Ethan was still connected to many of his powerful friends. It wasn’t until the Red, White, and Blue Gala in the Hamptons last summer that something changed.”
“The gala?”
“Often, the household staffs from the surrounding homes work the event, as well. During the fireworks display, I politely excused myself, the weight of the lies I’d been forced to tell all night suffocating me. Every time someone else congratulated me on my latest role, all I heard were Ethan’s threats, all I felt was the burn of his body covering mine as he forced himself on me, destroying my soul.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I didn’t think they’d believe me. Ethan had me so brainwashed that I honestly thought they’d dismiss me. I was his wife. I’m supposed to want to have sex with my husband.”
“But that wasn’t sex. Regardless of any marriage vows, consent is still required.”
“I know that now,” she says. “I knew it at the time, too. I was worried what he’d do if I said anything. Acting was all I had. I couldn’t lose that.”
“What happened at the gala?”
She straightens her spine. “I went to the ladies’ room. It was vacant, apart from one attendant.”
“Who?” I press, my gut telling me this woman might be integral to the story, someone I could potentially speak to this coming weekend.
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she considers what to tell me. “I’d rather not say. I don’t want to put anyone else in Ethan’s line of fire, so to speak. I’d never be able to live with myself.”
My shoulders fall as I blow out a breath. “I can understand that.”
“After I finished washing my hands and reapplying my makeup, she stopped me. Without saying a word, she carefully lifted the flutter sleeves of my gown, revealing the bruises on my biceps from where Ethan had restrained me the previous evening during one of his rage-filled moments. I could have said we were into the rough stuff, but there was no masking the fear in my eyes. Then she withdrew a business card from her back pocket. No name. No address. Nothing. All that was on it was a phone number. She said when I was done living in fear to call it. After that evening, I left the Hamptons and locked myself away, trying to figure out my next move. I didn’t call until February twenty-seventh.”
“Why did you wait so long?”
“I wish I had an answer,” she exhales, shaking her head. “There are times I wish I could go back and shake myself, force myself to wake up, but it’s not that easy. Ethan manipulated me to the point that I truly believed I’d be nothing without him, despite the fact I now had a career of my own. I never saw myself as this successful celebrity. I still saw myself as the struggling actress who would do anything just to get an audition.”
“What caused you to finally call?”
A blank look crosses her face as she stares straight ahead. “A photo of me from a movie I’d shot a few months earlier appeared on the front page of some tabloid with a headline about me leaving my husband for someone younger. Ethan saw it and flipped out. He wouldn’t listen to reason, didn’t care that the actor was gay or that it was a scene from the movie. He pulled out a knife, brought it up to my throat, and told me the only way he’d ever allow me to leave him was in a casket.
“The following day, after he’d apologized profusely and promised yet again to seek treatment for his anger issues, I kissed him goodbye, then called the number. In a matter of hours, I was on a plane to Vancouver where I spent the next two months with August Laurent.
“What did you tell Ethan? He had to notice you were gone? Did you tell him you’d had enough?”
She pinches her lips together, slowly shaking her head. “I told him I’d just gotten a project thrown into my lap and would be on location shooting for a few months. I offered to fly him out, knowing he’d never take me up on it. Once my star got bigger than his, he balked at the idea of joining me on set.”
I sit back, trying to wrap my head around the story she just shared with me. Whenever I saw Sonia and Ethan together on TV, I assumed they were the perfect couple, the one everyone aspired to be, that their love was what we all hoped to find. As with everything, appearances can be deceiving. I got my first taste of that earlier this summer when he came onto me. I figured he was just drunk. I suppose Sonia made the same excuse I did when, in reality, there’s no excuse for that behavior.
“And what was your time with August like?”
“Exhilarating.” The tension seems to roll off her shoulders in waves as she reflects. “He was exactly what I needed. He took care of me and made me feel beautiful, something
I hadn’t experienced in years. I would talk about my time with Ethan, and he wouldn’t judge me for staying with him. He had a level of understanding I never expected. He showed me what a real relationship should be like, what real love should look like.”
“Do you love him?”
She scrunches her brows, chewing on her lower lip. “It’s an interesting question, one I’ve never really thought about, but I suppose you can say I do. I love how his encouragement empowered me, how he helped me realize I do have worth, how he gave me the strength to walk away from it all.
“You see, hiring August Laurent isn’t about a fleeting physical attraction. It’s more than that. It’s about sharing a connection, something I hadn’t had in years. He gave me that. He gave me the greatest gift anyone could. If it weren’t for him, I shudder to think where I’d be right now. I wouldn’t be on the brink of finally saying goodbye to my past. And it’s all thanks to August Laurent’s influence on me. Because now I know I have worth. Even if Ethan’s threats are realized and he makes sure I never work in this industry again, he can’t take away the most important thing, not anymore.”
“And what’s that?”
A brilliant smile forms. “My freedom.”
Chapter Thirty
A heaviness settles in my chest as I stare at my overnight bag, packing up the few essentials I’ll need for my final weekend with Julian. I’d been dreading this for weeks, especially once we kissed. Thankfully, I haven’t had time to think about it too much lately. Most of my free time has been filled with interviewing other women who’d been referred to August Laurent. Every single one of them helped me view him as who he truly is — a man who used his notoriety for good. He could have continued as a traditional escort, someone women called if they needed a date for a wedding to make their ex jealous or didn’t want to sit through another Christmas with family members asking why they’re not married or in a serious relationship just yet. At first, that’s what he did, smiling, playing the role he’d been hired to play. But then something changed. I can’t help but wonder what that was.
As I grab a few of my toiletries out of my vanity, I pause when my eyes fall on a strip of photos. On our way out to Southampton last weekend, Julian made a surprise stop at Coney Island. He couldn’t believe I’ve lived in New York for nearly ten years and had yet to go. It was exactly as I’d imagined — cheesy, dirty, obnoxious…and magical. We played carnival games and ate food I’m sure will take the rest of my life to work off.
Neither one of us wanted to leave. So much so that we ended up being three hours late to the dinner we were scheduled to attend. That didn’t seem to faze us. Nothing mattered much lately, except for being with each other. Now I’m on the brink of never seeing him again.
Despite the shift in our relationship, Julian’s carried on as if it’s business as usual, that he’s still planning on walking away after this weekend. Two months ago, I looked forward to having my freedom back, as well as a beautiful new wardrobe. Now I’d trade all of that for just one more night, one more hour, one more minute with Julian.
Tears well in my eyes and I fall onto the bed, my throat closing up as I look to the ceiling, frustrated with myself. I’m not supposed to cry over him, not when one of the reasons he asked me to help was because I’d remain detached, because I wouldn’t get emotionally invested. But I have. Regardless of what he wants me to believe, I know he has, too. How can he walk away now? How can anyone walk away after forming this kind of connection, this amazing bond? Isn’t it human nature to want to pursue something like this and see where it leads?
As I consider the predicament I now find myself in, I’m reminded of August Laurent and how every single woman I’ve spoken to has admitted they love him. Surely after spending a month or two with these women, he must have formed feelings for them, yet he still walks away every single time. How does he keep his heart guarded? How can he leave them, knowing there’s something there?
Grabbing my phone, I open my email. I may regret this, but I need words of encouragement. As much as I love Chloe and Nora, I can’t talk to them about this, not when I’ve refused to admit I’m falling for the guy. Despite the change in me they’ve both picked up on, I insist there’s nothing between us, that I’m still looking forward to the end of the summer. I need advice from someone who’s been in my shoes. There’s only one person who will understand.
To: August Laurent
From: Evie Fitzgerald
Subject: ???
How do you do it?
Short and to the point. I hit send, then continue packing up my things. Only a few seconds pass before my phone rings. I snap my eyes toward it, the familiar Blocked appearing on the caller ID.
“Evie Fitzgerald,” I answer, although I know who it is. By now, it’s become a routine with us.
“I thought we were past this, Miss Fitzgerald. Haven’t you figured out by now I’m not taking advantage of vulnerable women?”
“It’s not that,” I respond quickly. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I understand now.”
“Then what is it?”
I draw in a shaky breath. “How do you do what you do and not feel like you lose a piece of yourself every few months?”
“A piece of myself?”
My chin trembles and I struggle to speak through the lump in my throat. “How do you find the strength to walk away from someone you’ve grown to care for?” I choke out in a strained voice, one that evidences my frustration and sadness.
There’s a brief pause on the line before he speaks again. Everything about his words exude the compassion I surmise is why women are desperate for his companionship.
“Is this line of questioning coming from somewhere…personal?”
I exhale deeply as I swipe at my eyes, erasing my tears only for new ones to fall. “Let’s just say I find myself in a somewhat similar situation. Apart from the whole escort thing.” I laugh slightly and look down, surprised to see the strip of photos from Coney Island clutched in my hand. I can’t even remember grabbing them. My chest tightens and I swallow hard. “I agreed to help out a friend for the summer…”
“And now that summer’s ending, you’re having trouble walking away.”
My words caught in my throat, I nod. It doesn’t matter he can’t see me. He knows what I’m going through. This is why I reached out to him. I need his reassurance that I’ll get through this.
“Listen, Evie…” His tone softens, taking on a friendly, more familiar quality. Until this point, we’ve been fairly professional in our correspondence and discussions. This is the first time he’s called me Evie, despite my insistence he do so. It’s always been Miss Fitzgerald. “I never said I didn’t struggle with walking away.”
“Then how do you do it? How do you form this amazing connection with another person, one that makes you truly believe you’re soul mates, and still leave?”
“Because I remind myself I’m there to serve a purpose.”
Now his own voice trembles. It’s not as prominent, but it’s obvious his words are laced with emotion, proving he’s not this detached machine who has no trouble jumping between women. He truly does care about each one. The world needs more people like August Laurent.
“I’m there to give women the companionship they desperately need to put them on the track to what’s next. Perhaps that’s what you need to focus on. That whatever arrangement you had was just to get you to the next step in your life. It won’t be easy. You’ll find pieces of him in places you never expect, and it will knock the breath out of you. Like when a commercial you laughed over comes on the TV, especially all those pharmaceutical commercials where the side effects seem worse than the condition it’s meant to treat.”
I close my eyes, remembering doing the same thing with Julian just a few weeks ago. Now the tears that fall are no longer tears of sorrow but of joy, of comfort, my heart expanding.
“Or you hear a song on your playlist and remember dancing to it. Or you see a car that looks lik
e his, only for your heart to deflate when it’s not. But I assure you, the memories will eventually stop being painful, and you’ll look back on this time with fondness instead of heartache. It won’t happen right away. But it will happen.”
“But—”
“My advice to you, since I’m assuming these are your last few days together?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t dwell on the future. Enjoy the present. Savor every last second you have together. Create more memories instead of lamenting on old ones. I promise these memories will carry you through the difficult road ahead, where you’ll question everything. Everyone comes into our lives for a reason, Evie. This…friend. Maybe he didn’t come into your life to be your soul mate. Or maybe he is your soul mate, but not in the way you think. Maybe he’s like Virgil guiding Dante through Hell and Purgatory, showing you who you are so you can start living.”
As I hang up and continue packing my things for the last time, I do everything to follow August’s advice. I try not to dwell on the idea of the sun setting on this magical summer, focusing instead on enjoying the little time I have left with Julian. Maybe he came into my life to help me realize I deserved so much more than what Trevor gave me. That I deserve to be with someone who supports my dreams, regardless of how ambitious and out of reach they may seem. Julian gave that to me. For that, I’ll forever be grateful. The notion keeps the tears at bay.
Until the buzzer sounds and I step out of the building to see Julian standing on the front stoop, the car I’ve nicknamed Thursday, the Jaguar, idling by the curb. He looks as beautiful and captivating as when I first saw him from across a bar during what I thought to be the worst night of my life. But now that I know his inner beauty matches that on the outside, he appears even more beautiful, more captivating. It forces the ache to return, tears sliding down my cheeks.
Julian’s quick to pull me into his chest, holding me tightly as my tears soak his white linen shirt. His arms comfort me at the same time they remind me this will be the last time they’ll be here to do so.
