95. We Are All Worthy of Love
Two weeks after Nicole’s hospitalization, I slowly climbed the steps to the Brantleys’, my eyes on the toes of my Jimmy Choos, my heart hiding somewhere in my chest. I stared at their front door and remembered, a year ago, how desperate I felt, ringing their doorbell. When I looked back at that woman, I barely recognized myself. Cammie was right. I had changed. Everything in my life had changed. I inserted my key and turned it in that lock for one last time.
Maybe I should have rung the bell.
I opened the door and stepped into a fight. Clarke and Paulo, standing toe to toe in the foyer, a maid standing in front of me, her mouth half-open, a broom in hand, her steps hurriedly moving to the side to let me in. The director’s shirt was gripped in Clarke’s fist, Clarke’s dark and angry face growling out something too soft for me to hear.
The New York wind sucked the front door shut with a loud slam that announced my presence. I winced at the sound, but neither man moved, their eyes locked.
“Where’s Nicole?” I whispered to the maid.
“In bed.”
“Does she know about this?” I watched Paulo attempt to push Clarke away, his struggle against solid muscle worthless.
“No.” The answer was a hushed whisper and almost lost in the loud crash. I’d heard that sound before. The sound of expense and turned to see Paulo bent backward over the foyer table, the glass centerpiece—one that replaced my broken one—now in a thousand pieces on the marble floor, Paulo’s hands frantic as he attempted to hold off Clarke.
“I’m going to tell you a final time,” Clarke threatened, “and then you’re going to get the hell out of my house. Stay away from my wife.”
“Easy.” Paulo’s squeak was embarrassingly feminine, and I didn’t move, as fascinated by this train wreck as I was horrified. “I just wanted to tell you it wasn’t mine. I got snipped five years ago. I just thought you’d want to know. And she and I—we’re done. We’ve been done. She broke it off when she found out about the baby.”
Clarke shoved off the man, Paulo’s body rolling to the side, his arms failing to catch his fall, his knees landing in the crystal and he wheezed out a cry. Clarke stepped another pace back, his breath hard, emotions barely controlled, his hands on his hips as if he were resting from a sprint.
I needed to go upstairs. None of this was my business. It was too personal, the emotion on Clarke’s face too raw, for me to witness. Yet, my feet couldn’t move, my eyes watching as Paulo made it to his feet, carefully limping toward the door.
“We still have to film,” Paulo said. “Just a few press things. Shouldn’t take but a day or two per week.”
“That’s fine.” Clarke spat out. “I’ll be there with her.”
“Seriously,” Paulo said, shuffling the last step to the door. “We’re through. I just thought you’d like to know.”
Clarke said nothing and the scrawny man made his exit, my attempt to sneak by thwarted by a loud crunch of crystal underfoot. Clarke’s eyes met mine and my heart sank at the sadness there.
“I’m sorry.” I said, my shoulders falling. “I wanted to tell you. I just…” I swallowed. “I just kept hoping she would.”
His jaw tightened and he glanced upstairs, to their bedroom. “I wish she had.”
“Why are you still with her?” The question I’d sat on for so long jumped, uninvited, off my tongue. I stumbled after it. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business—”
“It’s fine.” He interrupted me. “It’s a valid question.” He tilted his head at me, considering his words. “Nicole … there’s a part of her that’s broken. But that doesn’t mean that she isn’t worthy of being loved. Everyone is worthy of that. And, for some reason or another, my heart chose her.” He shrugged, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the broken crystal. “Another woman would have been easier to live with, to love. But another woman wasn’t in my cards. Nicole was.” He looked at me. “Do you understand?”
I sort of did. Unfortunately, when I looked at Carter and myself, there were certainly some parallels—consistencies that put me squarely in Nicole’s role. Part of me was broken. I had a hundred pieces I was trying to fix. And there were certainly other women Carter could have picked, ones that would be easier to deal with. I looked back up at Clarke.
“I do.” I stepped toward the staircase. “I’ve got to talk to Nicole.”
“Leaving us?” There was a wisdom in his eyes that I couldn’t lie to.
“Yeah.”
“Good for you.” He smiled and I relaxed a little. He was such a good man. He really was. I think the reason I fell so quickly for Carter was because I saw Clarke in him. Both of them solid and steady. Both of them trustworthy and loyal. Both of them so far removed from the superficial world that Nicole and I lived in.
I nodded a goodbye and took the first step, my climb up the giant staircase increasing in speed the higher I got.
Quitting. One chapter in this crazy journey, finally coming to an end.