Chapter 36 Zane
Zane
“How can someone take photos of people having sex if they are the people having sex?” Cal asks.
“You can set up a camera!” I shout. Why do I have to explain this to a model and a photographer?
“Yeah, but like that? How do you take a photo like that with a timer? I mean, look at it,” he says, pulling it back up on his phone and moving to stand closer to me.
“Your arm is flexing with just the right amount of girth to block her nipples, yet still show the perfect amount of breast. And the blanket just happens to look blurry right where her–”
“Stop looking at the fucking photo,” I snap. “And stop saying breast and girth and every other word that just came out of your mouth.”
“Jesus. Touchy. Seriously, Zane. How in the world could she have taken it? The shower ones, maybe. The one where you were sleeping, sure. But this one? It couldn’t have been her. No way. Someone else had to have taken it,” he says.
“You mean like she hired someone?” I ask, considering that for the first time.
“What? No, that’s not what I meant–”
“It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? Because she knows people in the industry. Other photographers. Actually, I bet whoever she hired was the same person who took those other photos of us too. The ones that leaked after our one-night stand,” I say with a slow nod.
“Jesus Christ, brother. Listen to yourself,” he says.
“I am listening to myself. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud, and I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.”
“You didn’t think of it before because it’s fucking insane. She’s not that person. You know she’s not that person,” he argues.
“Her boss was going to give her a promotion for taking photos of me that were less than savory,” I state, and he stops.
“And did she?” he asks.
“Yes!” I say, waving my phone around.
“No. Not these. Before this. Did she take photos of you before this and give them to her boss that are compromising?” he asks.
“Well, no. Not that were published anyway. But that doesn’t mean–”
“I want you to think about what you’re saying, Zane. You know this woman,” he cuts me off.
“Correction. I thought I knew her,” I say.
“You love this woman,” he states. “And don’t you fucking try to tell me that’s not a true statement.
Or that it’s past tense. It doesn’t work that way.
And you know what else doesn’t work that way?
Good people doing bad things just for money.
Not Ashlyn. Because Ashlyn doesn’t just love you, she loves your kid. It wasn’t her, and you know it.”
And while his words are direct and deep, they make me think about something else. “She does love Bentley,” I say. “Maybe more than she loves me.”
“What?” Cal cries out. “Okay, now you’re really losing it.”
“Listen. She said it herself. She’s never wanted anything more than to be a mom. And that’s what she got from me. Maybe she didn’t intend for it all to happen at the beginning, but once he was in the picture…”
“Stop,” Cal says. “Just fucking stop. You’re grasping at straws here and coming up with nothing. Someone else took those photos. Maybe hired by her, and maybe not. But I don’t believe it.”
“Well then, what do you think is going on?” I snap back. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.”
“I am your best friend,”
“And you’re supposed to have my back,” I say.
Cal scoffs, shaking his head. “I do have your back. If you pulled your head out of your ass for two seconds, you’d see that. You want to know what I think? You want my two cents? You’re afraid.”
“Afraid?” I growl with a laugh. “What the hell do I have to be afraid of?”
“Admitting that you’re wrong. Realizing that not everyone is going to betray you. Letting yourself be fully in love. Not just fireworks and diamond rings love, but facing life’s storms love. Letting someone get close enough to see the scars and letting them love you anyways love.”
“I was about to propose,” I remind him.
“I know. Before your first real fight. Before the waters got rough. And now that the waves are crashing, you’re realizing that it’s not always going to be easy.
And that’s why you’re afraid. You’re scared shitless.
You’ve never let it go this far before. It’s why you’re forty-five years old and single,” he barks before grabbing his water bottle and his gym bag.
“Where are you going?” I snap.
“I need a drink,” he says and walks out of the gym.
I get that no one believes it could be true. I don’t even want to believe it could be true. But I can’t understand how photos like that could be taken by someone who wasn’t in the home at the same time I was. No one has been in and out of my house but her, that I am aware of.
Normally, my first move would be to check the security cameras. But I took them down. She asked me to take them down at the beginning of our “fake dating” contract.
Of course she did.
Because she needed those photos to keep her job. We both knew the playful ones we took in the bedroom weren’t going to suffice. Not for Deborah. Whether Ashlyn took them herself or hired someone else to do it. It hurts more than I can say. But it makes sense.