Chapter 29
“Drown” - Bring Me The Horizon
Saylor
The hotel room is aggressively air-conditioned, even though it’s the middle of November. I’m buried beneath the thick duvet, because that seemed easier than adjusting the thermostat.
Images of the man in the alley have been playing through my head like an ad that shows up on every video you watch. I can still smell his sour breath and body odor even though I sprayed Rhett’s cologne on my pillow and keep inhaling as deeply as I can.
I have no idea if Rhett expects me at the after-party.
I didn’t have it in me to attend the show.
I was way too shaky, and Leo agreed to bring me back here so I could take a hot shower and go to bed.
But attending the concerts isn’t part of Rhett’s and my agreement. Going with him to the parties is.
My hair has to be a huge mess by now, crushed by the pillow and tangled with the number of times my hands have been in it. The makeup I put on this morning is long gone, washed away by the millions of tears I’ve cried since this afternoon.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get over how close of an encounter that was.
If Rhett hadn’t come outside when he did, I probably would have been raped.
Sexually assaulted, at the very least. I was planning to punch him, but there’s no way I could have actually overpowered that guy.
I’ve already mentally set aside a fraction of the payment from Rhett for self-defense classes when I get home.
Until then, I’ll be fine. No more wandering around alone. Leo hasn’t left my side since it happened. He’s been stationed outside the door ever since retrieving my phone from that creep and escorting me back here. Rhett threatened to fire him, so he’s stuck to me like peanut butter on bread.
I took a nap earlier, but a nightmare woke me up. I’ve been too scared to try falling back asleep since then. Having Rhett’s arms around me tonight will hopefully keep the demons at bay.
I’m scrolling social media when I see it. I initially swiped past, but then my subconscious kicked in, the way it does when you think you see someone you recognize.
There’s no way in hell it could be him, but I scroll back anyway to double-check. A kind of paralyzing chill washes over me when I realize I was right. It is him. Nate. My ex-husband.
“—married to Saylor Seegmiller?”
I turn up the audio. It’s a recorded FaceTime call with a white woman who looks younger than me. Who the hell is she, and why is she asking Nate about me?
Nate nods. “Yes, Saylor’s my wife. What’s this about?
” He’s still wearing his combat uniform, and I recognize the circles that form around his eyes when he’s tired.
I want to snort at his use of the word “wife.” We hardly functioned as civil roommates the last time he was home.
“Wife” is way too generous a term for what I was to him even before the divorce.
The girl looks disturbingly ecstatic at this information. I’m still trying to figure out what the point of all of it is when she says, “So you two never got divorced?”
Nate laughs. “Of course not.”
I scramble to sit up in bed as the video continues. What is he talking about?
“Are you in the process of getting a divorce?”
Nate’s brow furrows, and he shifts forward in his chair. “Why are you asking me these questions again?”
The girl adjusts the clear-rimmed glasses on her nose. “I’m doing a story on Saylor Seegmiller, your wife.”
“Why would you assume that we’re getting divorced?” he says.
Because we are . . .? The real question is, why hasn’t he been served papers yet?
She ignores his question and says, “Are you aware that your wife is traveling in the US right now?”
Nate blinks in genuine surprise. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, wondering whether it’s better to admit that he had no idea of his wife’s whereabouts or pretend to have known so he doesn’t look like a fool.
I’m still trying to figure out why he doesn’t know anything about this yet.
Before he can answer her, the girl follows up with a second question. “Are you aware that your wife is currently touring the States with Rhett Cole? As his girlfriend?”
My heart careens across the room, and the phone drops from my hand onto the comforter. This cannot be happening. This cannot fucking be happening.
I bring my hands up to my face, willing the past twenty-four hours away. God, if only this were a nightmare I could wake up from. I would give anything to go back to last night’s concert and never walk onto that stage. Any hope of slipping back into my quiet, normal life has just been obliterated.
The bedroom door opens. Not with a burst, like I half expect, but slowly and cautiously, the way you might check in on a sleeping person. Maybe Rhett doesn’t know yet, and I’ll have a chance to explain, although I have no idea what I’ll say because I don’t know what happened.
I filed the papers. I distinctly remember dropping the packet in the mailbox on my way to the airport. That was weeks ago, which means there was plenty of time for them to be processed and papers to be served to Nate, even on his military base.
I paste on a smile I don’t feel as Rhett steps into the room, but it drops the second I register his face.
He looks haggard. He’s still wearing his leather pants and red shirt from the show, but they’re a crumpled mess. Did the groupies get their hands on him at the meet and greet? Or was he serious about the guy in the alley needing to die and decided to handle it himself?
His eyes roam over me, but it’s like he doesn’t see me. They’re glassy and lifeless.
I push the blankets aside and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Before I can get to my feet, he speaks.
“Is it true?”
I’m still clinging to the hope that he hasn’t seen Nate’s interview. “Is what true?” But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I can tell that they are the wrong ones.
His face turns stoic as he continues to watch me. “Are we really going to play this game?”
“Rhett,” I say, moving toward him.
“Don’t insult me.” He narrows his eyes, and I stop in my tracks. “Is. It. True.”
The way his voice clips the end of each word leaves no trace of doubt in my mind. He knows everything. I guess I should just be glad he came back here himself and didn’t just have Leo throw me out.
“Rhett, please let me explain.”
The hard lines on his face melt into incredulity. “Explain what, Saylor? That you lied to me about being married? That I just watched your husband laugh at the thought of the two of you getting a divorce? Which part are you going to explain?”
“I’m just as confused as you are.” I take another step toward him and hold out my hand. “But I’ll get to the bottom of it, I swear.”
He shakes his head and paces to the other side of the room. “It won’t change anything. According to the courts, you’re married.” Placing both hands on the windowsill, he stares out at the dark night sky.
“I swear to you I filed those papers. I don’t know what happened,” I say to his back.
He gives a derisive snort. “Yeah, but all we have to go on is your word.”
His words hit like a slap to the face, a switchblade sinking into my heart. Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. “What do you want me to say?”
He whips around so quickly, I jump. “The label is threatening to drop me because of this.”
I bite my lip as the tears finally spill over. I knew this would happen, didn’t I? I knew that if I fell in love with him, it would destroy me. But silly me thought it would be at the end of the tour when he grew tired of me. Not because he thinks I betrayed him.
“I’m sorry,” I say again in a watery voice. “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“You said there was no other guy.”
A rush of air heaves from my chest. “Technically, you asked if I had a boyfriend, and Nate is the furthest thing from a boyfri—”
“Yeah, he’s your husband,” Rhett growls, eyes narrowed like an animal on the prowl.
I take a step backward, and his face relaxes slightly. “I don’t love him,” I whisper.
“You’re still legally his wife.” He spits the words out as though they taste bad. I guess if I found out he’d been married to someone this whole time, I’d probably spit those words out too.
“There had to be some kind of mistake,” I say. “I’ll call the courthouse and find out what happened.” I wait for him to say he believes me and that we can go back to being what we were, whatever that was.
Shaking his head, he places both hands on his narrow hips. “You told me I shouldn’t hide the fact that I was in rehab. But this whole time—” He plants a fist against his mouth. Is he fighting back tears? After a few seconds, he says, “At least I never lied.”
The look in his eyes brings a sob to my own throat, and I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep it inside. There’s nothing I can do to stop the tears, though. They rise up and spill over like a leaking dam. He still thinks I’m lying.
I scrape my brain for something, anything, that will convince him I’m telling the truth.
“I love you.” The words burst out of me, my last-ditch effort at salvation.
They weren’t premeditated, but they’re no less true for it.
“I wasn’t expecting to feel this way, but I’ve fallen completely in love with you. ”
If he has any idea how much it takes for me to say those words out loud, he gives no indication. The pain on his face only deepens, as if by speaking the truth, I’ve only made what he has to do that much harder.
“I should never have pestered you to come on this tour,” he finally says, his voice a soft rumble. “You were right to say no.”
Another splinter of my heart breaks off and falls to the floor. The regret is so strong I can taste it, metallic and sickly.
“I gave you my heart, and you didn’t have the decency to tell me yours already belonged to someone else?” he continues.
“It doesn’t belong to him,” I choke out between sobs.
“You’re married, Saylor. To some bloke in the military who looked pretty torn up when he found out what we’ve been up to.”
I want to snort at the thought that Nate gives a damn about our marital status. “He wasn’t, trust me. There’s no love lost between me and Nate. He’s been hooking up with other people for years.”
Rhett looks sick enough to vomit. “How do you expect me to believe anything you say after this?”
It’s as though he’s buried a knife in my chest. I’m afraid if I look down, I’ll see blood pooling on the rug beneath my feet.
“This will ruin me.” His voice is quiet, deathly quiet.
“We can talk to the label,” I say, swallowing back the tears clogging my throat. “Tell them there was some kind of mistake. Maybe we can use it to your advantage. The publicity could be great.” My voice rises at the end like a plea.
The expression on his face doesn’t change. It’s full of so much pain, it’s brimming over. “I wasn’t referring to my career.”