Chapter Eight
I wanted to take Laila away, have a moment with her that wasn’t tied to the set or our children. I needed to be alone with her. It only took me a second to think up a solution. I had a tiny private island purchased for when Marianne and I wanted to take vacations under the radar and without spending over $100,000. It was safe to say that we would never use it again. So, I desperately needed to christen it. I sent Laila a letter with directions one day, telling her to meet me at my private airport.
That morning, I got there stupidly early, pacing back and forth in front of my helicopter like a jackass. But soon enough, I could see her car coming in from the road.
“Hello, love.” I kissed her cheek. I flinched at the use of the l-word.
“Hey. What’s this?” She smiled.
I shrugged, leading her to the helicopter. “I wanted to have sex with you somewhere other than your trailer.”
“Well, then how is this a solution? I’ve never been in a helicopter, let alone had sex in one.”
I chuckled. “The helicopter isn’t the destination.”
Much to my relief, she stepped inside. We were up in the air for about thirty minutes before I felt the craft start to lower down onto a beach, an island that couldn’t have a larger circumference than about five miles.
“Here we are,” I said as the blades came to a stop. I led her out and across the beach for almost a mile. We then turned off some hidden path, barely carved out, through a jungle into an opening. A small cottage sat there, almost weaved into the forest itself. Flashes of memories came rushing, but I blocked them all out.
“Wow,” she said, as I turned my key into the door, opening it. “Is this your weekend home?”
I led her inside, shutting the door behind me. I glanced all around me at the bright colors, the rooms filled with windows. The whole place was small, but Marianne expertly decorated and had this aura of luxury. “This is my weekend island.” I grimaced. I’d need to redecorate. Just to get rid of her touch.
She turned to stare at me. “You have got to be kidding me.” she laughed.
I nodded. My face lit up, knowing I had made her happy. I crossed the room and took her into my arms. “I’m not kidding.” It felt like the most natural thing on earth.
“So why in the hell did you keep this from me all this time?”
I shrugged. “I guess I was just waiting for it to be worth it.”
“What?”
I kissed her, her lips speaking to my body. “Letting you in.”
She let out a steady breath, her body seeming to melt, and kissed me back. I slipped her dress off in the next instant, just as she unbuttoned my pants. I gazed at her gorgeous, naked body. The sun shone golden on her milky skin, her black hair practically glistening. My cock hardened as I watched her chest rise and fall with her breath. I led her, naked, down a long hallway and to a spacious bedroom in the back of the cottage.
She laid onto the bed, sighing seductively, her body squirming on the soft mattress. “Come get me.” She said.
Who was I to deny her?
***
That afternoon, David had groceries delivered to the island, and, like a crazy page out of a novel, went fishing in the ocean. I watched him from a blanket on the beach, a book I had stolen from his bookshelf in my hand. Along with the groceries, he had gotten an entire tropical wardrobe delivered for me as well. As I sat there, in my Tommy Hilfiger one piece, watching David stab at the water completely naked, I couldn’t help but consider a future with him. But how could I think about a real relationship without thinking about the secret I was holding close to myself. The clock was ticking on my grace period with David. It was clear what would happen with Marianne and I if I told her I had been seeing David. She would force me to drop him, and she might even retaliate, especially if I owned up to lying about it.
But David. What would David do? I still had no idea how he felt about her. What exactly happened with their divorce. If he found out I was working with her, would he be angry with me? Would he demand I stop? There was no way to know without being honest.
So, that night at dinner, as I watched him eat from across the table, I decided to feel around. I took a sip of my red wine and began. “David?”
He stabbed his fish, but let the fork-full hover over his mouth. “Yes, love?”
I smiled at that again. “I have some questions about your wife.”
“Ex-wife.”
I nodded. “Right, why did you get a divorce?”
He froze for almost ten seconds, then gulped down another glass of wine. “So we’re here now.”
I nodded. “We’re here.”
He folded his hands in front of his face. “I wasn’t the best husband. When we met, I was obsessed with her. She was like this goddess that just hoped I could one day have. And then she fell in love with me. I’d never been loved before. I didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like or how to give it back. I just coasted. Then she started giving up things for me. She changed her life, simply so that I could live mine. Then, all the sudden, I woke up one morning and I realized I didn’t love her. I never did. I could never match those feelings, could never be her hero the way she had been mine and I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t want to confront it. So, I just ignored. I didn’t know what to do with myself so when she started to become more successful, to spend more of her time at work, I started focusing all of my energy on other women. I wanted her, and I adored her and I wanted to love her. But instead I… I destroyed her, little by little. I thought it was all mine. That I was the only one breaking vows until I came home after filming on location almost a year ago and found another man in my kitchen, naked.”
My eyes were watering, watching him break down like that. I couldn’t even pick a side; the story was so sad. I didn’t want to hurt him. Suddenly, it was that much harder to say the words I could no longer hold back. But he continued.
“She had been with him for a year. She asked for the divorce after that. No more point in trying.”
I let out a slow breath. “I’m so sorry.”
He cleared his throat and took another sip of his wine. “So, why did you ask?”
I bit my lip, the lump in my throat wouldn’t go away. Those words held me in their grip, silencing me. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes bore into me. “Tell me what you have to say.”
“Marianne’s my agent.”
It was his turn to have a lump in his throat. “Does she know?”
I lowered my gaze, my own plate becoming blurry behind my tears. “I dunno…” I murmured.
He slammed his fist against the table, standing up, repeating himself. “Does she know?”
When I looked up at him, my quiet, thin tears broke through. “Maybe. She asked me, directly.”
“And you lied.” He started pacing, his hand on his hip.
“Yes.”
There was a pause as he turned, his back to me.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m thinking.”
I stood up, walking towards him, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel that inevitable and dreaded decision pressing against my forehead. It was happening now and there was nothing I could do about it. “About what?”
But he didn’t say anything.
I had to know what he was thinking. “About what?”
He turned to look at me, turning the full force of his gaze on me. “About how to tell you to give up everything for me.”
I blinked, taken aback at this. I couldn’t believe it. He just told me about all those mistakes he made and about how he could never love a woman who risked everything for him. But now, here we were. “How can you even do that?”
He came to me, holding both of my shoulders. “I need you.”
“But what about my career?”
He kissed my forehead. “We’ll figure it out.”
But would we?