AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It hurts like hell when she smiles and curls her hand around mine, holding it so gently.
Fuck.
I’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting her, dammit, not using her as a crutch.
“I should tell you about her,” I say slowly, looking down at our hands. The pale cream of her skin contrasts against my darker tan. Her skin is moonlight, mine is sun, yet she’s the one who shines so brilliantly, while I’m a pallid reflection of her light. “She’s the reason why the tabloids were able to twist our interactions into this sordid scandal. The rumor mill was less than kind about the circumstances around her death. In fact, they were downright barbaric. They blamed me for everything.” I swallow like I’m choking down glass. “Hell, some days I’m not sure they’re wrong.”
“Take your time,” Elle urges softly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, August. But if you need to ... I’m listening. Say what you need to say.”
What I need to say.
I look up from our joined hands, searching her warm, open face. She’s so ready to take whatever agony I share.
I don’t understand how she can be real.
I just hope the shadows inside me won’t darken her, won’t tarnish her light for letting them loose.
“Her name was Charisma,” I start. “Like every relationship, I thought we were in love.”
That’s the bitter truth.
If we hadn’t lied to ourselves—if we hadn’t gotten as far as we had—maybe she would still be alive.
Once the words start, it’s impossible to stop the avalanche.
“Truthfully, we were less in love and more suited for each other.” I lower my eyes to our hands again. My fingers tighten on Elle’s. “She was a rising actress. I was a high-powered executive. We looked good together on the red carpet. If not for me being on her arm for years, the tabloids wouldn’t care what I do with my personal life. Billionaires only make headlines when they live flashy lives and send rocket ships to the moon, not spend half their time buried in supply chain indicators trying to figure out how to save a few million a year from the cost of shipping rebar. Drama aside, I’m a pretty boring man.”
“Pfft.” Elle clucks her tongue. “You’re anything but boring. You’re just very focused.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it.” I smile, though it feels like a lead slug to the gut. “Unfortunately, my focus was a problem in our marriage. I thought we were alike. We were both so intensely focused on our careers. I thought her trips for filming and my long absences while working global contracts wouldn’t be an issue. But even while we played at being in love, I missed how desperately Charisma wanted to be loved.”
While I’m talking, our fingers shift. Lace together. Locking like we’re sharing this story together, rather than me unburdening my faults and my crimes.
“What happened?” Elle’s fingers fit between mine too perfectly.
“It started as blowout fights. Then stiff, wounded silences. Then longer, colder, angrier silences. She was lonely, and I was—fuck, I wasn’t very good at recognizing that. Let alone giving her the attention she deserved. I wasn’t innocent in this. I didn’t recognize that her hostility and cruel words came from hurt, not hatred. It was such a habit to wall myself off that I walled off from her too. It’s no surprise when she turned elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?” Elle’s eyes widen, and her indrawn gasp tells me the conclusion she draws even without a single word. I shake my head.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” I counter. “She didn’t cheat on me, though she easily could have. She was a beautiful woman with a charm that made her vibrant. Very few men would have refused her. But she didn’t turn to another man.” I stop and sigh. “First, she turned to drugs. It was the usual killing progression from the bottle and weed to the coke that runs through Hollywood like a live current. If I’d been around more, I would’ve seen the overdose coming.”
My jaw pinches so tight it almost breaks.
“Oh no. Oh, August, I’m so sorry. You can’t blame yourself, especially if you didn’t know you had to be there to save her from—”
“Save her?” My eyes sharpen. “No, Elle. She didn’t die from an overdose. Not even when she took too much of that crap, and it was laced with whatever the fuck it was that stopped her heart. They were at this resort in Arizona, and thank God her bombed-out friend woke up first, just in time to get EMTs over to restart her heart.”
Elle shakes her head, clearly confused.
“Of course, I came rushing to the hospital as soon as I heard. Too little, too late, especially to stop what came next.” I inhale slowly. “When she woke up, Charisma told me about going to a place with the prettiest flowers and magnificent birds and two blue moons. She said it was total serenity, a better high than any drug she’d ever had, and she vowed to sober up. She was certain she went somewhere special—the sort of place you only go when you die—and she’d do anything to get back there. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t think she ever lived totally in this world again.”
Elle’s eyes widen, desperate for more.
I hate this fucking part.
I swipe my hand over my face before I continue.
“She turned to New Age religion next. I’m told I shouldn’t call it a cult.” My mouth creases bitterly. “But it was a fucking cult. The sort that operates like a multilevel marketing scheme. Their whole goal is to suck in new members and indoctrinate them so they turn over all their funds to the higher-ups. Charisma needed so much to feel like a part of something, to get back to that special place she believed she saw, that she fell right into their clutches. It didn’t matter how much I warned her, how many friends intervened, how many shrinks I hired to get through to her. She quit acting and exhausted her own substantial funds in no time, and then she tried to hide it from me.”
