I startle awake. In a dazed confusion, I look around my living room for any sign of Trey. My television is on with the morning news. I’m confused.

“Trey?” I call out but don’t receive a response. Gingerly, I stand and attempt to stretch the knots I have forming in my back from falling asleep while sitting up. My phone sits on the couch. I bend and tap the screen, but nothing happens. It must’ve died while I was waiting for Trey to arrive. Why didn’t he wake me up? What time is it?

My muscles ache as I climb the stairs to the second floor. I make a mental note to add a couple of yoga sessions to my list of things to do while in Cancun. My bedroom door is closed, a sure sign Trey is in there, but why are we still sleeping? Surely, it’s almost time for our car service to be here.

My heart pounds loudly, almost as if I’m on set and about to enter a room where I know I’m going to have to scream. I can’t explain it, but this feeling doesn’t sit well with me, neither does the fact that Trey didn’t wake me when he got here last night.

Twisting the doorknob, I push the door open. The blackout curtains cloak the room in darkness. I flip on the light switch and stare at my still made bed. In fact, the only thing that seems amiss is Trey’s bag seems to be gone.

Stupidly, I call out his name, but deep down I know he’s not in my condo. Still, I look in my walk-in closet and walk into the bathroom, only to find both rooms empty. Frantically, I look around my room. The few things he kept on my dresser are gone, and the space he used in my closet is now empty. The tears come quickly, but they're irrational. There has to be some reasoning as to why his stuff is missing.

I rush back downstairs to grab my phone and plug it into the charger. I start to pace, waiting for the Apple symbol to appear and for my home screen to come alive. My phone vibrates with notifications. Mostly text messages from friends, but there are a few media alerts and emails. Opening the texting app, I scroll until I come to his name. And there it is.

Hey D. I didn’t want to wake u, but I don’t think things are going to work out between us. I hope you don’t mind I took the tickets. I really need to get away & heal.

Heal?

He breaks up with me over text, steals my ticket to Cancun, and he needs to heal?

Right now, I’m squeezing the life out of my phone because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to cry, but I am because I don’t understand what I did to deserve this. Why wouldn’t he just talk to me and tell me he wasn’t into the relationship? Why would he suggest we go away together?

My phone dings and I make the mistake of looking at it. It’s an image of Trey at the airport with another woman. The headline is gut wrenching: Hollywood starlet dumped for local waitress… My next mistake is reading the beginning of the article.

It seems the relationship between Trey Baker and Delaney Du Luca is over. According to sources, Baker has been dating Kara Biondi for some time, and the two are expecting their first child this summer. Calls to Du Luca’s rep went unanswered.

On cue, my phone rings and the text messages start to go crazy. I ignore them, needing some space to figure out what just happened to my life. How could I not see the signs? I’m so stupid. Relationships in Hollywood never last, and if I’m not the perfect example of that, I don’t know who is.

I go back to Trey’s text and reread it, hovering over his name. One press and my phone will call him. Will he answer? And if he does, what do I even say to him? I’m not sure I want to know what went wrong or why he’s lied to me. It might be better for my self-esteem if I tell myself I didn’t do anything wrong and Trey is nothing more than a jerk.

Instead of pulling on my big girl panties, I head to my room and collapse onto my bed to wallow in self-pity. I don’t know if I’m heartbroken or humiliated. He could’ve easily just broken up with me. Why cheat? Why embarrass me?

The funny thing is, I can ask myself all of these questions, but I’ll never get the answers. It’s not like I’ll ever call Trey or even speak to him when we’re in the same social setting. I can even go as far to make sure he’s never on the same set as me. As of now, I’m the bigger star and if I need to be a diva, I will.

I stay in bed, crying and screaming into my pillow until my head starts to hurt. When I get downstairs, the lack of decorations, especially for Christmas, bothers me. There’s still three weeks until the big day, but I don’t want to be alone.

Somewhere in the recesses of my couch, is my phone. I pull off the cushions, tossing them onto the floor until I find it. As if on cue, my mom’s name lights up on my screen.

“Mom?” My voice sounds desperate, and maybe I am.

“Delaney, what am I reading?”

Sitting down on the hardwood of the sofa frame, I put my hand to my head. “I don’t know. I had no idea something was wrong until I saw a text from him this morning, then the article. I’m completely blindsided.”

“Are you okay?”

I shake my head knowing she can’t see me. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know. I think I’m going to go buy a tree and decorate.”

In the background, I hear her co-workers asking her what’s going on. I swear Ramona Falls is worse than TMZ. “When do you start filming your next project?”

“Um…” I pause to think. “Mid-January or so.”

“Come home, Delaney. It’s been years, and we miss you. Everyone would be so excited to see you, and you can be here for the tree lighting ceremony. I would love to wake-up with you on Christmas morning and—”

As soon as my mom says the words ‘Christmas’ and ‘home’ I know deep in my mind that’s where I need to be. “Mom, you don’t need to convince me. I’ll catch the next flight out. I think coming home will do me some good.”

“She’s coming home!” she yells to everyone at the bank. The cheers I hear bring a huge smile to my face. It’s nice to feel wanted. “Do you want Dad to pick you up?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll rent a car. I’ll see you for dinner.”

“I can’t wait,” she says before hanging up.

* * *

Traveling today is a mistake. I should’ve known better than to fly out of a major airport, but they had the quickest flight to Vermont, and I didn’t want to wait. With that said, I was completely unprepared for the onslaught of photographers shoving their cameras in my face as I walked into the airport. The last thing I wanted was to be reminded of what I read this morning, and to do so with a smile on my face.

Of course by the time I reach the terminal, the alerts are flooding my phone with images and posts about my dilemma. The vultures wasted no time broadcasting my apparent heartbreak with articles about me being despondent and hiding behind oversized sunglasses.

An airport security guard stands near me to keep people at bay. Typically, I wait in the lounge but didn’t want to be bothered in there either. For now, I stand in the corner, watching planes coming in and out of the terminal, thinking back to a time when I used to do this when I was younger, and how life was simple.

Growing up in a small town where everyone knows everyone, people aren’t like this. Or maybe they are, and I’m too naïve to think this type of drama happens in Ramona Falls. I can’t imagine hearing about one of my friends being cheated on, not like this.

Before arriving at LAX, I sent a text to my friend Mindy. She’s the one person who has always been by my side and never asked for anything from me. To her, I’m just Delaney.

Mindy: I’m so glad you’re coming home.

Me too.

Mindy: We’ll hang. Look for hotties. Hit the mall with disguises. Be girls.

The idea of needing a disguise makes my stomach roll. I could go without one, put on a brave face and show everyone Trey Baker doesn’t mean anything to me. Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do because why not? Why should I hide when he’s clearly not?

No disguise needed. Unless you don’t want to be regulated to my picture taker?

Mindy: I’ll happily snap away for you.

I’ll text you as soon as I get home.

Mindy: Can’t wait. And don’t let that man dampen your holidays. We’re going to take your mind off of him.

Thank you!

Going home is the right thing to do, even if it only means spending time with my family and Mindy. It’ll be enjoyable to sit by the fire with my holiday leggings, big bulky sweaters, and oversized socks. That also means I’ll have to hit the mall to do some serious shopping because I’m not prepared for the snow or the cold.

As soon as my flight is called, the security guard walks me to the gate. He wishes me a happy holiday before leaving me there, in line. A few people behind me murmur my name, and thankfully it’s about my last movie, which did relatively well in theaters.

“Welcome, Ms. Du Luca,” the ticket taker says as I hand her my boarding pass.

“Thank you.” I’m the first one down the jetway, except for the people who need a bit more time to get to their seats. The flight attendant smiles as I step onto the plane. As soon as I sit down, she’s offering me a drink. “Mimosa or screwdriver. I’m not picky,” I request. I’m trying to be numb and get my vitamins in one fell swoop.

One of the nice things about a long flight is the ability to shut my phone off. And because the news about my current relationship status is fresh, I’m not being blasted all over any magazines. On a day that is possibly one of the worst of my life so far, it’s the small things that are making me happy.

Unlucky for me, the woman sitting next to me is a fan. Generally, it doesn’t bother me if someone makes contact or asks me a few questions, but the non-stop talking about everything I’ve done in my career is a bit much, especially when I’m not engaging. Right now, I’d love to continue drinking, but I told my mother that I’d rent a car. Otherwise, I’d be working on getting drunk right about now.

Yet, I continue to appease her, even when I have earplugs in and I’m trying to watch television. Each tap on my arm is met with a smile. Each question answered unless it’s intrusive. Each joke laughed at. I ooh’d and ahh’d at her family photos and asked a few questions of my own.

And by the time the pilot comes over the loudspeaker to tell us we’re landing, my flight has gone by quickly. When the plane pulls into our gate, we both stand and she holds her hand out.

“I read about what happened to you. I’m sorry, but that man doesn’t deserve someone like you. I hope you find some happiness. I’m not normally like this, but you looked sad, and I wanted to cheer you up.”

“Thank you,” I tell her as we shake hands. “I really appreciate your company.” I didn’t know at first, but I’m thankful she kept my mind occupied elsewhere.