Sixteen

Misha

Based on what I knew of Petey Pamplona I was more than certain that Ethan’s interview would be a hit. The man was a very outspoken advocate for his own charity and the cause in general, of getting homeless teens off drugs and off the streets. And just as I predicted, it had gone as well as it possibly could have. I stood way, way off stage and watched from a monitor, sensing a distance between us that I just couldn’t understand. Not that it was so unheard of, in fact it happened often with my clients. They knew the end was near, so they began to pull back in anticipation of our separation. I knew it well. Hell, I encouraged it.

This time it hurt and it was my own damn fault. Sleeping with him, though incredibly passionate and earth shattering, was a mistake. Falling in love with him was an even bigger mistake.

I watched the interview with a detached interest and prepared myself for the impending hurt. As a professional, I could admire how much progress Ethan had made. He was more open than when I first met him and his smile came easily. That haunted look in his blue eyes was gone and I knew that regardless of what came next, I could think of Ethan with a sense of accomplishment. Achievement.

Not just loss.

But this wasn’t about me so I turned my attention back to the monitor, just as Petey went in for ratings gold. “I don’t know about those other hosts Ethan, but I get it. The first year I forgot my mom’s birthday it ate at me so much, I went on a weeklong binge of sorrow and booze that nearly broke me emotionally.” The audience ‘awwww’d ’ just like he’d meant them to and even Ethan offered up a sympathetic look that some producer had them zoom in on for added effect. “We may not all have lives worthy of the scrutiny of Sam Stevens, but I think anyone who has ever lost someone could understand your pain and your reaction. Compassion is hashtag rare , people!”

“Thank you for that, Petey.”

“No, thank you for being brave and sharing your very private story with us Ethan.” Petey turned to the audience as he rattled off the name and web address for his charity and signed off. Surprisingly he kept the mega-watt smile on his face as he shook hands with Ethan and spoke to him for a few minutes. They did that half-hug, half-handshake thing men tend to do before Ethan strolled towards me and Petey went to chat with his adoring fans.

“That went well,” I told Ethan quietly but he kept walking without even glancing my way. “Okay then,” I whispered to myself and turned to follow him back to the waiting limo. I really wished he’d just tell me to go away, it was better than what the hell was happening now. This silence hurt. Freezing me out wasn’t fair when I’d done everything I could do to help.

He didn’t say anything the entire ride home as tension filled the limo. I kept my gaze on the cars we passed, legs crossed away from him like a shield, because clearly, I’d done a piss poor job protecting myself.

It would be a lie to say I hadn’t wondered what goodbye to Ethan would look like, but I’d never thought it would go down with such cold precision. He hadn’t said a word but his body language told me that whatever had been happening between us, was now over. Somehow between morning sex and the Petey Pamplona interview, we had imploded.

By the time we made it back to Malibu and the limo pulled into his driveway, the tension was at maximum capacity and I couldn’t wait to get out into the fresh air, to put some physical distance between us. I sucked in a lungful of chilly ocean air and turned to Ethan. He wore sunglasses that hid his eyes which meant I couldn’t see what he was thinking, but his body language told me all I needed to know. Still, I reached for him because I needed him to say it clearly. He shrugged off my touch and we both took a few steps back.

Message received.

“Right.” I turned away from Ethan and got into my car, driving away from the beach house for what was likely the last time. I needed to get away from him, from the pain and the humiliation of rejection but I wasn’t ready to go home yet. So, I turned left instead of right on the PCH and drove. And drove. If the chime on my car hadn’t reminded me that cars needed gas, I probably would have driven all night. I finally turned around and drove back to my apartment where I had fitful sleep.

The next day, I woke up early, my heart heavy, and took care of all the things I’d neglected to spend days and nights with Ethan. It took all day to do laundry but since I knew I wouldn’t hear from him, I did it all, only leaving to stock up at the grocery store before coming back. By the end of day one, my entire house was cleaned—scrubbed, really—and all of my clothes were clean and put away.

Day two I checked my email, plowing through dozens of them until I was caught up. Several new people reached out to me for contracts but I couldn’t confirm anything until my contract with Ethan officially ended. After that, I planned to take one month for myself, do some traveling and decompress. Now I could add heal a broken heart to the list, so maybe six weeks.

I was certain Ethan wouldn’t call on day three so I got up early and went for a long, cleansing surf. It felt good to get back on the water again, alone. I stared at the horizon for a long while, watching as the sun inched higher in the sky, wondering what in the hell was wrong with me. Sleeping with a client was a fast way to ruin my reputation and my business in one fell swoop.

I tried to remind myself that he’d done us both a favor by icing me out. If word got out that I had sex with a client, women would no longer trust their high-profile husbands to my care—and worse—the rich and depraved might see me as some sort of high priced hooker. Yeah, a favor. That’s what he’d done. I should have been grateful, happy even. And I would be.

Soon.

***

When I woke up on the fourth day, I vowed that under no circumstances would I think about Ethan for the rest of the day. He hadn’t called or texted, which told me we had nothing to discuss. And I’d find a way to be fine with it, starting with a visit to some of my favorite people on the planet. The residents of Sunshine Daze.

I walked through the doors carrying boxes filled with pastries and fresh fruit juice I’d picked up on the way over. “Hey troublemakers, what’s shaking?”

I smiled when the table in the corner erupted in cheers. I loved all the people who lived in the village but those were like family to me. “Nothing but trouble,” Edith offered with a saucy, stop sign red smile. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Work has kept me busy,” I explained and held up the stack of boxes. “But I brought treats so we could catch up.”

“Oh honey you know not much changes around here. Unless of course the fact that Martha has decided to let Clifton tie her up in the binds of matrimony.”

It took a second for her words to sink in but when they did, I turned slightly and stared at Martha and Clifton, sitting side by side, wearing matching pink cheeks. They sat close but not too close, probably how most people did it. But Martha couldn’t maintain her stoic expression and a smile spread from one cheek to the other and she showed me the ring. “It’s true Misha, we’re getting married!”

She looked so happy and Clifton looked pleased as punch to have his ring on her finger. I jumped out of my seat and gathered them both in a big, choking hug that probably cracked a few old people bones. “I am so happy for both of you! When is the big day?” Martha told me all about the proposal—on a dinner cruise—and her plans for the wedding and I kept on a beaming smile because I was genuinely happy for them. Truthfully, I envied them, to experience the kind of loss they both had and still have the strength to do it again. I wasn’t sure I was that brave, then again, I doubted I’d have to worry about it. Men weren’t really my thing. Relationships and I had never gotten along and marriage was the ultimate relationship.

Maybe I wasn’t cut out for that kind of life. It might, of course, have something to do with my awful taste in men. Men like Ethan who were beautiful and brilliant, but also damaged. The relationships were always the same. I wanted them with a fevered desperation I never knew existed and they want me back. Only, not really me. They were addicted to how I made them feel—big and strong and powerful—and that was a lesson I learned quickly.

It didn’t matter who gave them that feeling because it was the feeling, not the person. And it went from perfect to hell in a matter of weeks, sometimes a matter of months. It depended on how long it took me to need—just sometimes—for things to be about me. Sometimes I needed to vent, to have a bad day. To cry. And with guys like that, I never could.

“Did you hear me, Misha? I’d like you to be one of my bridesmaids.”

I blinked at Martha’s words and looked to her. “Yeah I would love to be a bridesmaid. Does this mean Edith will be planning the bachelorette party?”

“You’re damned right I am! I already have it all mapped out, starting with cocktails and spa treatments.” Edith looked so proud even though we all knew there were male strippers in our collective future.

I spent most of the afternoon at Sunshine Daze, helping pick out colors and dresses, and promising to get the flowers all sorted before the wedding. “I’ll email you a few options after talking to the florist,” I promised and made my way back home to indulge in freshly made seven-layer dip and spicy tortilla chips. It wasn’t the most exciting night of my life but it was peaceful. Lonely but peaceful.

When day five began, I woke up ready to throw my final goodbye to Ethan Mahoney into the Pacific. But an early morning text dashed that thought with a message to meet him at the private airstrip as we flew across the country for his fourth interview. Wake Up, America was the most watched morning program in the country and if he nailed this, which he would, it wouldn’t matter how his interview with Samantha Stevens went.

Still Ethan had pretty much ignored me on the flight over, booking my own room and leaving me to my own devices until the next morning when he rapped on my door and quickly turned away. Apparently, he couldn’t even look at me, and I wouldn’t force him to. We stood side by side in the elevator as the numbers lit on the way down, nothing but silence tethering us. It was the heavy, oppressive silence though and any thoughts I had about breakfast were dashed by the churning in my gut.

The fucked up sensation right there, was why I’d planned to steer clear of love. How could we stand here like strangers after the things we’d done together? The things we shared? I knew what he looked like as his body filled with pleasure, how he tasted first thing in the morning. How Katarina’s death had torn him apart. We’d shared those things and now…this ?

I kept quiet as we entered the studio, keeping my distance until just before they went live. “You’ve got this, Ethan. You can do this, I know you can.” His blue gaze was sharp, a mask of nothingness as he nodded and turned away, stalking to set like he couldn’t wait to get away from me.

I barely watched the segment, even on the monitor just behind a large camera. I could see smiles and laughter, from Ethan as well as the hosts, but none of their words registered. All I could see was the man he probably was before he’d outed Samantha Stevens’ husband on live television. So charming and in control, so certain of himself and his place in this world. That man was back.

With a vengeance apparently.

“Ethan some people are wondering if your relationship with Katarina Shipova was just a ploy to dodge the media firestorm.” Wake Up America golden boy, Jason Kellerman asked in that way meant to sound smart but really made him sound like the gossip hound he was.

For a moment, I thought he might crack, but he didn’t. The man was a professional and he pasted on his most polite smile and gave his answer. “People like you are exactly why I didn’t want to talk about it. But you people, you think you can have it all, every piece of me. Well, you can’t. Believe what you will, because you will anyway.” Ethan shook his head, a clear sign to anyone that knew him that he wasn’t done. “A very smart person helped me realize that not talking about it does Katarina a disservice. People should know how she suffered, the lengths she went to so that they can see the signs in their own loved ones. So, if this helps, I’m glad. If you think you’re entitled to more, too bad.”

A moment of tension sizzled through the other hosts, all of them shocked into an uncomfortable silence at the passion in his words. Jason however, had dreams of being a real journalist and he snapped back into the lion’s den. “Does this mean you won’t be apologizing to Samantha Stevens anytime soon?”

“I have given her one already. In private. She is as entitled to her privacy as I am, even though she spends her job digging into the private lives of other people.” To the casual observer, Ethan looked as cool as you please. He leaned back in the iconic orange chair, ankle crossed over one knee with a serene expression on his face. But anyone who knew him could identify the signs of stress that pulled thin starburst lines out from the corners of his eyes and mouth. As soon as his segment ended and they cut for commercial, Ethan was on his feet, shaking hands and leaving dust clouds as he fled the studio.

I didn’t bother trying to catch up this time. His rejection hurt like hell the last time and now that I knew the score, I wasn’t eager to experience it again. After shooting off a quick text telling him I’d meet him at the airport in the morning, I did some re-exploring. This place had once been my home, but now, New York felt foreign to me. The sights and sounds were familiar, the energy intoxicating. But it wasn’t home. Not anymore.

New York was too close to him, I decided. When my time with him ended, I could go a lot farther away than New York. But right now, it was the perfect place to get lost for a few hours among the masses. I didn’t have to worry about anything but not getting trampled by people constantly in a hurry to get nowhere.

I stopped at a hot dog stand, falafel cart and a gourmet ice cream wagon, all before dinner and without a lecture on nitrates and other chemicals. I fucking hated it.

But I was determined not to hate it, so I stopped at a Chinese buffet for dinner, taking my sweet time to sample a little bit of everything. Sure, I was stalling but being out in the world was better than having just a wall separate me from Ethan, especially when there was already a giant wall between us. I ate until I was stuffed and then I walked around the city until I was hungry again, only then going back to my room for a couple hours of restless sleep before I showered and headed to the airport.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” he grunted when I finally took a seat on the other side of the cabin.

Hoping I wouldn’t, is more like it but I didn’t bother saying so. Instead of getting pissy, I pulled out my travel book and began to research all the places I could go when my contract with Ethan ended. By the time the wheels touched down in Burbank I had narrowed it down to New Zealand or a few of the Galapagos Islands.

I stepped off the plane and I could see the rigid set of Ethan’s shoulders and I knew the time had come. I could have rushed right past him on my way to the taxi stand to delay the inevitable, but I slowed down, giving him the chance to reach out to me if he wanted to. “Misha, wait up.”

I stopped right where I was but I didn’t turn. I couldn’t. Looking at him would hurt like hell but I knew I had to do it. I’d make him look me in my eyes while he did it, though. “What’s up?”

“I’ve gone as far as I’m going to with this arrangement so,” he sighed and raked a hand through his hair while steadfastly avoiding my gaze. “So, I’m not going to be needing your services any longer.”

“At all?” I hoped he just needed a few days to himself, to unwind and cool down but I already knew. He wanted out.

“Yeah. I don’t need you anymore.”

Ouch. And just like that it was done. We were done. I could have argued that he still needed me. I could have begged and pleaded with him to reconsider and if he’d given me any reason to hope, maybe I would have. But the grim determination on his face told me it would have been useless, so I saved my energy to get through this goodbye and make it home without falling apart. “Right. Okay. Good luck, Ethan. With everything.” I picked up my bag and strode past him, head held high in a show of bravado I didn’t feel. I carried myself on wooden legs to the taxi bay, holding it together until my front door was behind me.

Then I slid down to the floor and buried my head in my hands, crying over another heartache. Another disappointment.

Another fucking mistake.

Another lesson I needed to learn.

Again.