Chapter 24 #2
“I was trying to figure it out. For us.” His voice rises.
“For the past month, I’ve been trying to find something that would put me back in L.A.
, with you! I’ve read dozens of scripts.
It’s the first thing I do when I wake up and the last before going to bed.
Submitting tapes, hoping something pans out.
And then the studio called about rebooting the show.
I wasn’t thrilled about filming with her, but at least it kept me with you. I did it for us.”
A part of me wants to forgive and forget. I want to fall into his arms and let him whisper that everything was for us. I want to believe him. I just… can’t.
I can’t get over the fact that ‘busy’ doesn’t excuse silence. I can’t shake the feeling that he betrayed me. And more than anything, I can’t risk my career just to be ghosted every other day.
“You kissed her. In the middle of London. Knowing someone would take that picture.” My voice trembles, but I hold my ground. “You did that for us?”
“That’s not what it looks like,” he pleads. “I didn’t even know someone had taken pictures of—”
“—as if that makes it any better. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean for someone to take a picture of us. I just meant to kiss her’,” I mock, sharp enough to draw blood.
“Could you stop interrupting me?” I can tell by his tone that he’s hurt by my words. But not as hurt as I am—guaranteed. “I’m trying to explain.”
“You should’ve been open with me since you first saw her,” I snap, but decide to give him a little break. “Fine. Explain.”
“It wasn’t until I got to the restaurant Peter booked that I realized she was there.
Coincidentally, or conveniently, the producer is in London as well.
I already felt bad enough that I hadn’t had any time for you.
The last thing I wanted was to send some casual ‘Hey, just FYI, I’m hanging out with my ex! ’ text.”
“It would’ve been better than the alternative.”
“I see that now.” His regret is palpable.
“After that night, I told Peter I wasn’t okay with the role if she was staying.
He told me to stick it out, that the producers were offering at least three more seasons, and they were on the fence about recasting her anyway.
So I played along—told them my concerns—and hoped she’d be replaced. ”
“And yet you met with her again. And again. Until her hands were in your hair and yours were on her hips.”
Saying it out loud makes me want to throw up.
“In my defense, we never met just the two of us. Our agents were always there. Part of the old crew and writers,” he argues. “I don’t know how she found out that they were thinking of cutting her. Today, she showed up at the café, uninvited, and waited until I left to come at me.”
He takes a deep breath, almost as unwilling to describe the scene out loud as much as I hate listening to it.
“She started begging. Said I could help her keep the part. When I told her I was done, she didn’t take it well. She threw herself at me. I was caught off guard. I didn’t kiss her back. I pushed her away the second I caught my balance.”
I don’t have to wonder if he’s telling the truth. I know he is.
Which makes me feel even worse, because now, even with everything laid out on the table, I can’t seem to move past anything that has happened.
It’s too complicated—too many things to fight against. My job. His past. The press.
“Please,” he whispers, taking a tiny step toward me. “Say something. Anything.”
“I don’t know what to say.” It’s the truth. “I’ve been thinking about it so much the past few days. I just know I can’t go back to L.A. as the same heartbroken mess who left it.”
He exhales like my words knock the air out of him. I’m not trying to hurt him. I’m just finally telling the truth. My truth.
“I don’t want to do that,” his voice trembles. “I don’t want to be the one that breaks your heart. I want to be the one who protects it.”
“Except you already did,” I whisper.
The truth is: my walls are going back up.
And suddenly, I’m grateful I never said those three words. Because I love him—God, I love him—but if I gave him everything, he’d have it in his hands to shatter me into a million pieces. The thought alone is enough to scare me away for a lifetime.
“Don’t say that, please.”
He takes another step toward me, hand reaching out, but I move backwards, keeping the distance unchanged. I can’t allow myself to break. His touch would do just that.
I take a deep breath, bracing for what’s coming. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I wasn’t as worn down as I am.
I want to tell him I believed blindly that he was my future. I want to tell him that I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for him.
Instead, I let him go.
“Aside from my career, I came here to get away from Noah. You already know the story—I was young when it started, and it changed me. So much so, it scared me to realize that someone could have that much power over me,” I begin, my heart raw.
“If there was one thing I didn’t expect, it was you. And yet here you are—so unrealistic, it’s almost ironic. I fell for you so fast. But I just don’t have it in me. These past few days have shown me how easy it’d be to give all of myself to you… only to have it destroyed.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I should’ve seen it coming. I knew she was capable of pulling something like that, and I didn’t do enough to keep her at arm’s length.”
I shake my head.
“I was shocked when Claire showed me the photo, yet something inside me kept telling me there was an explanation behind it,” I say, sadly. “That’s not the problem.”
He waits for me to continue, giving me space to find the right words. I hate how patient he is.
“It took a lot for me to trust you. And I do appreciate the explanation.” I pause.
“I’m afraid it’s a little too late. You promised me, that morning after the premiere, that you’d be the first to let me know about anything that involved her.
But you didn’t. I’ve not heard your voice since you left my apartment.
I get that life gets busy… but I can’t risk getting hurt again by someone that can’t spare a couple of minutes to check in.
And now it’s not just my heart at stake. ”
His expression shatters.
“Julia, please,” he says agitated. “I know I messed up, but please, give me another chance. We can figure out what to do about your boss. I’ll grovel if I have to. Once I have everything sorted out, I—"
It takes everything in me to answer.
“I can’t,” I say, my heart sinking like an anchor in water. Part of me flashes in red, screaming that I’m overreacting, but my mind has a life of its own, and the words flow with the sole purpose of protecting myself.
“I can’t get those pictures out of my head. I can’t forget how I called and every time your voicemail greeted me. I can’t get rid of the feeling of hoping to meet you for dinner and then hearing nothing else from you.”
He’s looking at me like his whole world has just burned to the ground. I feel unstable—like I’ll fall apart if he keeps looking at me like that.
“I think it’s time for you to go.” I walk towards the door and hold it open for him. “It’s late.”
He doesn’t argue. He walks past me, far enough for me to shut it.
“Goodbye, Harrison.”
“Julia, I—”
He raises his hand, pleading one last time as the door closes on his face.