Chapter 87
87
SOPHIE
G avin had always asked a lot of her, and she had always sought to fulfill his needs. Being needed by him had been the defining aspect of her life. Then he took that away when he fell into depression and cocaine. And now he was in Los Angeles, just about as far away from her as he could be. He’d asked her in his note to be patient but what he really seemed to want was to live his life without her.
That was clear enough when he didn’t answer her calls but instead replied with short, impersonal texts. It was also clear as the days went by, turning into weeks, and she could see through tabloid coverage that he was a healthier version of himself, with a little weight gain and a light tan. There were photos of him smiling—smiling!—while on set with Jackson. One of his texts let her know that he was clean and enjoying Venice Beach. He said nothing about returning home. It all added up to her certainty that their separation was bound to become permanent.
When she saw the headlines announcing that Conor had broken off his engagement with Colette, she wanted to reach out to him. She wanted to see his handsome face and engage in the mildly flirtatious banter they had perfected over the years. She wanted to hear what books he had been reading, what hikes he had done, what exotic food he had tried, and if he had seen any good art shows. She missed his friendship. Hurting him the way she had when he’d come to commiserate about Sammy-the-Stripper was something she deeply regretted. She’d been no better than Gavin in the way she pushed Conor away so she could be alone in her own misery.
As she thought about him, she realized she didn’t just miss his friendship. She missed him . Because as much as she had denied or rationalized her feelings for him over the years, she realized that they were more than friends. There was love there—and not just on his side. It was only now that she had real time with her own thoughts, removed from Gavin’s angst, that she could be honest about her feelings.
Looking out at the expansive sea view from the deck, she focused on the way the sun was breaking through the clouds and shining down on the deep blue water, and thought about all the times Conor let her cry on his shoulder over Gavin. Now that he was dealing with a breakup, she thought she should at least offer him the same.
After a moment, she took her phone and typed, “Let me know if you want to talk.” It seemed supportive without being provocative.
The nearly immediate response surprised her: “As a matter of fact, I do. I’m at your gate. Let me in.”
They had a surveillance system that showed the gated driveway, so she rushed to the computer set up in a nook of the kitchen to be sure he wasn’t joking.
He wasn’t. He was sitting in his Aston Martin, waiting. She was unable to stop the smile from spreading across her face as she pressed the keys to allow him access.
It didn’t take him long to drive through and she met him at the door with unbridled excitement. As he walked up the wide-set staircase to meet her, she took in the sight of him. He wore form-fitting jeans along with his ever-present pocket chain and a thin black cashmere sweater. His hair was recently trimmed, his face clean-shaven, and his blue eyes unadorned by sunglasses. She could see then, as he met her eyes, that despite having hurt him the last time they saw each other, he still adored her.
Closing the short distance between them, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. He hesitated in returning her embrace for a moment, but then held her just as tightly, lowering his face into her neck.
Their hug lasted minutes rather than seconds, and when she finally pulled away, she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. Being close to him, taking in his familiar scent, and feeling his strong embrace, she knew where this visit would go. Where she wanted it to go.
“Come inside,” she said, pulling him by the hand.
He hadn’t seen this house before and he took his time looking around at the high ceilings, the cream L-shaped sofa positioned to take advantage of the sea views, and the sophisticated but cozy lit gas fireplace. “A bit of a step up from the other place, yeah?” he asked with a smile.
“How are you?”
He tilted his head noncommittally. “Fine. It’s for the best. I see Gavin’s off in Los Angeles, playing movie star.”
She shrugged and shook her head, not wanting to talk about it. Instead, she said, “I’m so happy to see you, Connie.” She playfully plucked at his ribs. “You look good.”
“You too, honey.”
She nodded. “Come, let me show you the rest of the house.”