TWENTY FIVE
Bella
It’s a week before I switch on my phone again. A week of hiding in Will’s house. In his bed. I find out what happens when I slide my cold feet under his legs in the middle of the night or when I try to get out of bed before him in the morning.
In the shower he pulls me against him and fondles my breasts as he soaps them. Which turns into fondling other areas, which turns into a very long shower and two orgasms.
I’m a little giddy and a lot relaxed. Something makes me find my phone and turn it on. When it boots up, a sudden wave of nausea grips my belly. I unlock the screen and thrust it toward Will. “Can you check this for me?”
He comes to sit beside me on the bed and takes it. We’re in the guest room where I’ve left my few possessions. Will tucks his arm around me and I turn my face into his chest. I already know Roksana is going to be mad with me. How could she not? I disappeared for a week without telling anyone where I was going.
Hell, she probably thinks I’m dead.
I wonder if anyone else even cares.
I mean the producer of the film I’m supposed to be starring in probably cares. I’ll never work for him again. But beyond the people who will be angry with me for letting them down, I can’t think of a single person in my life who would care because they care for me. Not unless I count Will, who knows exactly where I am.
I used to have friends. Once upon a time. Before Austin. Before I got famous. The friends who didn’t grow distant once I was famous, well, my toxic ex ostracized them pretty successfully.
I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner how bad he was for me.
How the attention, and the way people constantly told me how lucky I was, didn’t actually mean anything.
“What am I looking for?” Will asks me gently.
“Angry messages. Emails. I don’t know.”
“Oh, I already deleted those.”
I look up at his smile. “Really?”
“No. There aren’t any. Just a message from Roksana. Is that your agent? She sounds worried.”
I hold out my hand and he places the phone in my palm.
Roksana: please call me. I’m worried about you. Whatever it is, we can work it out, but you need to let me know you’re safe
Oh. That’s so much nicer than I was expecting. Now I feel bad for how long I’ve let her worry.
I message back.
Bella: I’m safe. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry I’ve let you down.
She messages back almost instantly.
Roksana: Bella! I’m so glad you’re OK. Where are you? What do you need?
I’m tearing up as I write the next one. I shouldn’t have doubted her.
Bella: I just need time. I’m not sure I can work for a while. I understand if you need to drop me as a client. I really do. And I’m sorry for letting you down
Roksana: I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have pushed you to go back to work so soon. Or with Elliot .
Bella: No. I’m glad you did. I’m in a better place than I’ve been for a while. I just need a little longer
I can’t tell if Will is reading over my shoulder as I type. When I finish and set my phone down on my lap, he kisses the top of my head. “I’m glad this has been good for you. Because I’ve spent the whole week feeling like a selfish prick for being glad you wanted to hide out with me.”
I turn and climb into his lap, straddling him and wrapping my arms around his neck to hold him close. “You’re easily the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Well, you’re the best thing that happened to me, so that sounds fair enough.”
I laugh.
Will pulls back a little to look up at me. “If you’re feeling better, I should probably go into the shop today. I dread to think what has happened all week leaving Ian in charge.”
Inside my heart is racing.
A day feels like a long time to spend without Will’s reassuring presence around, but I smile. I can do this. “Of course.”
“You could come if you like. It won’t be much fun, but there’s no need to be alone, if you don’t want to.”
“That’s OK. I think I’m alright. I’ll hang out here and it will be my turn to make dinner for you. Though I have to warn you, it might be inedible if I cook. It might have to be takeout.”
He kisses my nose. “That sounds lovely.”
I’ve never noticed before how quiet Will’s house is. It’s strange. The neighborhood is bustling with energy right outside his door. Inside the house, though, it’s calm.
Almost too calm.
I try to read, but I can’t concentrate. Ever since I turned my phone back on, a little niggling thought worries at me. I wonder what people have said about me. I wonder if the stories have stopped. Or if they’ve started up again since I disappeared.
It’s probably stupid, but I’ve been feeling so good lately. So much better.
I think I could handle it.
I’m almost lightheaded as I type my name into Google and hit enter. With trepidation, I scroll beyond the AI summary of my biography to the suggested questions: Did Bella Owens walk out on her latest movie deal? Is Bella Owens dating Austin Kane? There it is. Did Bella Owens make a sex tape? Did Bella Owens sleep with director Teddy Wilson to get her first role?
They’re the two questions I knew I’d see here. The two I normally hear associated with my name. They’re also the two I would ordinarily be compelled to click on and trawl through the rumors and the hate.
Today, I don’t click.
I look at them on the page. Flat black letters on a white background. Shapes on the screen.
They’re nothing more than that.
Noise.
Only, I’m here. Safe in the quiet of Will’s house. I’m not that person. That person is a mask I wear to do my job.
The person I am when I’m around Will and his friends and family, and when I’m all by myself, is the person who matters. The real woman he sees.
I lock the screen and toss my phone onto the bed.
I don’t need to look. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what any of them think except him.
Leaving the phone where it is, I find a spot in the living room and do some yoga. I hunt through Will’s pantry, give up, and use his laptop to order takeout to be delivered at 7:30 pm. Then I curl up on the sofa with a tea and a book of poetry from Will’s shelf.
It’s the same book he gave to me the first time I came to his shop.
I read for a while, until I come to one poem that makes me stop to read it again. “Pinocchios.” It’s about puppets on strings, only it’s not. It’s about why people do the things they do. Act the way they act.
I read over the lines that stick in my mind again and again: Think of if you’re happy and you know it clap your hands. Think of the grace of a marionette, as it glances the earth, as its limbs shake and float. Think of how its mind is elsewhere.
I’ve felt like that. Going through the motions. Doing what’s expected of me, even when it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t what felt right.
How many times have I smiled and played along with people I secretly hated? Worked with someone I couldn’t respect, knowing what they were doing to someone else.
I never let those things happen to me anymore, but am I letting them happen to others?
Well, not anymore.
I go back to the bedroom and retrieve my phone, typing out a message to Roksana.
Bella: I think I’d like to start looking for projects again, but I have some conditions. I’m sending a list of people I won’t work with anymore. And I’d like to find something meaningful. Something worthwhile. Do you think you can find something for me?
When Will gets home, I meet him at the door and love the way he lifts me up into his arms to kiss me.
“How was your day?”
He smiles. “You know I think Ian might be more capable than I give him credit for. The shop is still running. Nothing has burned down or been stolen, as far as I can tell. We might have even made some sales. What about you? How was your day?”
“Good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I ordered Thai. I hope you like it spicy!”