CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Chelsea
Everything felt numb, like when your hand falls asleep, and it hurts when you attempt to shift it. If I tried to move at all, my body seized with the pain of waking up, one piercing, burning twist at a time.
“Here you go. Paul made you one of those fruity drinks you like so much.” Derek shoved a cup into my hand. “Just drink.”
I sipped, but my eyes wouldn’t break with the ocean. There were five boats on the horizon, zipping by on their way into the marina before the sun went down. No, there were six.
“So, this seems like a lot to take in.” Derek sat next to me. “Who would have thought all this time that we were hanging out with a movie star? Wild, huh?” He tipped his drink back, and looked over his shoulder and into the massive McIntire residence.
Paul and Jake were inside talking, presumably about security measures that needed to be taken. My stomach twisted. He wasn’t Jake. He was Ben Baldwin.
“Did he tell you anything? Did you seriously have no idea who he was?” Derek asked. “No clue?”
I tilted my head toward him, feeling the sting of the motion.
“Ok. I’m going to guess that means no.” He slid his hand along my back. It was an attempt to comfort me, but I didn’t want anyone to touch me. I shirked from the contact.
“Please don’t, Der.”
I kicked the cup back and let the coconut mixture slide down my throat. I didn’t want to get lost in the bottom of a cup. I didn’t want the pina colada to be the relief that quieted the pain. That was for people who drowned their sorrows in alcohol. That was for people who had been dumped or were left broken-hearted. I wasn’t one of those people. My heart wasn’t broken. No, it just wasn’t beating.
“I know I’ve been a real dick this summer, Chelsea. But I am here for you. I don’t really have any clue what’s going on, no clue, but I’m here if you need me.” He stood as Paul and Ben walked on the deck.
Ben strolled to the chaise lounge where I was propped against a pile of tropical-colored pillows. He had deposited me there before gathering the guys for a talk. “Derek, man, thanks for everything.”
“No problem. I’m happy to help.” He slapped Ben on the back.
Ben crouched down, eye-level with me. “I have to go back into town. If I don’t make some kind of statement, they’ll never leave.”
I refused to look at him—whoever he was.
“Paul said you can stay here as long as we need, and Derek is going to stay too while I’m gone.” He moved to kiss my forehead, but I flinched at the gesture.
“Go.”
“I’ll be back tonight and we can talk.” His voice was soft.
Derek and Paul made a beeline for the living room.
“I don’t want to talk,” I answered.
Ben sighed. “I did this. I did all of it. I know I did.”
“Stop.”
The pain in his eyes caught my breath for a second, but I powered through, turning my attention back to how many boats I could count on the horizon. “Go. And do not come back here.”
He pushed against the chair and stood next to me.
“I swear, Chelsea, I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
The pain turned to something more intense and more physical. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Didn’t you hear me? Get out of here.”
Ben turned on his heels and walked down the side steps.
My body lunged backward into the pillows. Seven, no maybe that was the eighth boat. I was going to have to start all over again. Damn him.
***
This might be the first time I had turned on the TV all summer. Other than a little hurricane coverage, I didn’t have time and not a whole lot of interest. I read. I wrote music. I loved Jake all summer. Who had time for TV?
I tapped the volume control so I could hear what was being said about him, about me.
It was all surreal. Ever since yesterday afternoon, my life had been sucked into a paparazzi vortex. They had dug up dirt on me I didn’t even know I had. It didn’t help that Rebecca Campbell was determined to stick around and spin her story. I realized though that Rebecca might be telling the truth. I might actually be the other woman in this twisted scenario. How could I tell what was right and true anymore when my compass had been smashed into a million pieces?
Derek walked into the living room and slumped into the open space on the couch next to me. He had spent the night in one of the many bedrooms.
“You don’t want to watch this trash, do you?” He tried to take the remote from me.
“Actually, I do. Did you know that I slept with a married professor?” My eyes hardened.
“None of the things they are saying about you or J—Ben are true. The people who know and love you know the truth. Let’s watch a movie or something.”
I laughed at the irony. If I had watched more movies, maybe none of this would have happened. What dingbat doesn’t know she’s sleeping with the World’s Sexiest Bachelor? That’s what the headline said—he was the most wanted and adored man on the planet. I clutched the remote.
“Hey, easy tiger. Paul’s parents are pretty generous, but we don’t need to buy a new remote.” He took it from my grasp and turned the TV off before I could get the daily entertainment rundown.
“Der, I want to watch it.”
“No, you don’t. You’re sitting in here, beating yourself up for something that isn’t your fault. None of us knew who he was.” He turned me to face him. “He didn’t want us to know, Chelsea. Look at what happened. It’s a circus at the store, all the local press is here, people are camped out at The Carribe Inn of all places. It’s crazy. He was right. There was no reason to subject anyone to this. I have a whole new appreciation for celebrities.” He whistled.
“Did you just say he was right?” I had hit Derek once before and that was a moment I regretted, but the urge was itching in my palm.
“I know you’re pissed. I’m not telling you it isn’t justified. But, he’s doing everything he can to fix it.”
“How do you fix something like this, Der? He lied. He fucking lied to me all damn summer!” I felt my hands tremble. “Everything, the record label was him pulling strings with friends, the book—he’s not a fucking writer! Did he just say that to get in my pants? Is that all guys care about?” I picked up a pillow and threw it against the sliding glass door.
“I’m glad that wasn’t something breakable.” Derek looked at the pillow and then at me. “What Ben did was shitty, but he’s not a bad guy. It doesn’t take five minutes around him to know that.” He stood. “And no, guys care about more than getting in a girl’s pants.” He winked. “Sometimes.”
I grabbed the other pillow and threw it at his chest. “Not funny.”
“Oh, I’m hilarious. You’ve just forgotten.”
There was quite possibly a smile forming at the corners of my mouth, but I was reluctant to give in to it. It felt better to let the misery and hurt consume me. It kept the memories of Ben farther away. The memories of his mouth, the way he growled in my ear, the way his skin felt pressed against mine, how he could calm me down with his arms around me. No, those memories weren’t welcome here and neither was Ben Baldwin.