AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Come,” she urged, tugging him toward a sofa. “Sit with me.”
He followed almost passively and sat down next to her. She turned to face him, her eyes probing his troubled gaze again.
“Did you love her?” She held her breath, not really wanting to know and yet needing to.
“Love her?” he repeated. “Who? Trish?”
“Yes.”
His eyes darkened and he shook his head resolutely. His denouncement was immediate and unequivocal “No. Absolutely not.”
Well, denials didn’t get more vehement than that, and Iris felt a heady sense of relief, which didn’t last long when he continued with, “But maybe I should’ve and that’s the problem.”
“Explain.” He hesitated and she squeezed his hand. “Please, Trystan, I want to understand what’s going on with you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re hurting and I want to know how to make it better.”
His mouth trembled and shockingly his eyes flooded with moisture. He blinked rapidly, looking self-conscious about the moment of vulnerability.
“In light of everything that has happened between us and everything that I’ve done to you, Iris, you might have difficulty believing this,” he said, his voice choked. “But you make it better just by being here.”
Oh God, how the hell was she supposed to resist this man when he said things like that?
“Please tell me what happened with Trish.” She wasn’t sure he would, and so was surprised and relieved when he started speaking without even the slightest of hesitations.
“We met while working on Cryo Cop.” Iris nodded. This was common knowledge; the press had been abuzz about the apparent chemistry between two of Hollywood’s brightest and most beautiful stars. And then, when they’d started dating just a few short months later everyone had been speculating about secret weddings and possible pregnancies. The rumor mill had been agog, the paparazzi had stalked them and their star appeal had gone through the roof.
“Trish and I got along, we enjoyed each other’s company, we had fun and had some great on-screen chemistry… then her manager and Quinny decided a good way to generate buzz for the movie would be to fabricate a behind-the-scenes romance between us. That was all it was at first, a little light flirtation in public, a few dinners, being seen out together, attending functions as a couple. Nothing serious, just enough to fuel public interest. One night, it got physical. I drove her home, and we fell into bed together.” Iris nodded, swallowing down a wave of nausea at the thought of him with the beautiful Trish Nesbitt, which was ridiculous since she’d known about their relationship. “I immediately knew that it was a mistake. We were colleagues, friends. And I didn’t want sex muddling that up. It felt wrong, and very uncomfortable. I was on autopilot, y’know? Insert tab A into slot B type of shit, just going through the motions. But she seemed so into it. I kept asking her if it was okay, if she was sure because I didn’t feel like it was okay and I absolutely wasn’t sure about it. And… fuck, I should have called a halt to it. I don’t know why I didn’t.
“Safe to say it was the world’s most mediocre sex, for both of us. From beginning to end I just wanted it to be over and I couldn’t understand why I felt that way. Afterward, we had an awkward discussion about our relationship boundaries. And we agreed that it could never happen again. Well, I thought she agreed with me. But after that she was—I don’t know—more physical in public, more brazen with her hands and mouth. I was surprised. Shocked. So fucking uncomfortable. She was such a great woman, she appeared so grounded and stable. But—” His head moved, a short jerk of denial, as if he were still trying to wrap his head around these memories.
“The night of the accident we were at a premiere party, and as we pulled up she told me she was in love with me.” His brow lowered and his eyes went distant, as if he were so immersed in his memories that he no longer saw Iris. “It came out of left field. I was shocked and, as a result, I wasn’t as kind as I should have been. At that point, I’d been trying to ease out of the agreement with her for weeks. I’d spoken to Quinny about how we could end it. I knew she was getting too emotionally invested. And I tried to be sensitive of her feelings, but then she started showing up at my home, and once she even crawled into my bed while I was asleep, for fuck’s sake!
“We’d made the commitment to go to the party together months before, and I didn’t want to humiliate her by not showing up. But by then, the situation had escalated so badly, I knew it had to be our last social event together. I’d told Quinny and her manager beforehand, told them I was ready for a public break-up. They could paint me as the bad guy, I didn’t fucking care. I was done.”
He made a quiet, despairing sound in the back of his throat, his hand tightening around hers almost to the point of pain, but Iris said nothing, not wanting to distract him.
“The night of the party, after she told me she loved me, I slammed out of the car and dragged her to a private room. Once there, I told her I didn’t feel the same way, that I never would. That she was delusional if she thought what we’d had was in any way real. I was . . . cruel. But I was frantic by then. I didn’t know how to handle the situation any longer. She was a fellow professional. I tried to respect that, but her behavior frightened me. I felt stalked. Hunted.
“She went eerily calm after I exploded. She apologized for misunderstanding the situation and I thought, ‘Finally, she gets it. Thank God.’ I thought that was that. We left the room and spent the party doing separate things. We’d gone in my car, and I felt obligated to drive her home. When we were both ready to leave, she offered to drive because I’d had a couple of drinks. I agreed because I wasn’t in the mood for another confrontation. But once we were in the car her demeanor changed.
“She went from relatively pleasant to almost catatonic and, I don’t know, I can’t describe it. I’d never seen anything like that in my life before. She was lifeless, almost robotic. And she was speeding. I wasn’t drunk, I wasn’t even slightly buzzed. I was sober, but like I said, I’d agreed to let her drive because she was insistent and I didn’t want another argument. I just wanted to get the evening over and done with and move on with my life.
“I told her to slow down. It was about three in the morning. The roads were empty…”
He stopped speaking, again getting that faraway blank look in his eyes.
“Trystan?” Iris whispered. Her voice jerked him from wherever he’d gone and his eyes were tormented as they swept over her face.
He gulped in a breath of air like a man deprived of oxygen, and when he spoke again his voice was shaky, almost reedy.
“I haven’t told anyone else,” he admitted. “Not even Quinny or Dazza. It was just… so—” His words failed him and his lips thinned as he retreated into silence again. Not for long though and this time she didn’t have to prompt him. He continued as though compelled to. “She told me she loved me. That I belonged to her. That if she couldn’t have me n-no one else could, then she jerked the steering wheel and drove the car straight into a tree.”
The silence was broken only by his harsh gasping breaths. Iris, however, found herself quite unable to breathe as the shock of his words stole the air from her lungs and left her reeling in horror.
She desperately cast about for something—anything—to say, but he spoke before she could, “It wasn’t at all how I’d imagined something like that would be. Like the movies”—his mouth twisted in irony—“make it seem. I was fully aware throughout it all. I was in pain, bleeding, I knew something was wrong with my face, but the shock kept me from recognizing the full extent of my injury.”
