Chapter 36 Honor
Honor
‘How are you feeling about tomorrow?’ Jackson asks as he tops up my glass of flawless Puligny Montrachet. He’s also cooked me my favourite supper: hake on a bed of chorizo and lentils. He’s a good boy, when he wants to be.
But it’s not enough.
And I’m not sure why I ever thought it was.
I’m not trying to reinvent history here, to tell myself I’m a wronged wife. I’m not. I have a lifestyle that only a tiny, tiny fraction of a percent of the world’s population enjoys, and I’ve made the necessary choices at each step of the way.
I suppose, with hindsight, those choices were forks in the road, but I never treated them like that.
With my tunnel vision firmly in place, I’ve treated the direction of my life like one of those long, dead-straight, dusty roads you see in American movies.
I’ve blithely ignored any turnoff that might deviate me from my desired destination.
That destination has changed, and one hell of a fork lies ahead of me. And I’ll take that fork without a backwards glance.
I glance down at my speech notes for tomorrow and answer my husband’s well-meaning question.
‘I’m ready. I’ve practiced this speech a million times, and I trust Miles to have everything ready at The Montague’s end.’
‘That’s great, babe. But how do you feel?’
Jackson’s been a bit freaked out by my apparent ability to keep my shit together in the past ten days since Mum died.
I’ve gone into my preferred coping mode: over-functioning.
So the private cremation a couple of days ago went off without a hitch, and I’ve planned tomorrow’s memorial to the last detail.
I’ve also worked my arse off this past week, partly because so much stuff piled up while Mum was in her last days, and partly to keep myself from thinking too much.
I’ve avoided Noah—Good Vibes was kind enough to courier Mum’s stuff over so I didn’t need to face him—and while Jackson’s been around, I’m aware I’ve held off on leaning on him too much emotionally.
I’m preparing to cut my emotional ties with him, and while he’s been sweet this week, I’ve had years to practice living my daily life without having him around.
‘I feel good about it. The cremation was the bit I was dreading; now that’s over, we can have some fun celebrating Mum’s life. I think she’d love it.’
I know she would. Miles has everything in hand, and we even have her favourite florist doing the blooms for the function room. It will be beautiful.
‘Good for you, babe. I look forward to toasting her.’
I can’t avoid the conversation anymore. In my head, it needs to happen tonight because I know Noah will be there tomorrow, and I can’t bear to see him and not tell him how I feel, what I want.
I’m suspended in this terrifying chasm between the present I have and the future I’ve chosen, but I can’t have the latter without severing ties with the former.
I take a sip of wine and swivel on my bar stool to face Jackson.
‘I need to talk to you.’
A sour, sick feeling hits my stomach as I say it. This is it. It’s so hard to do this without resorting to cliches. It’s not you, it’s me. I can’t do this anymore. But cliches are overused precisely because they’re universal truths.
‘Honey.’ I take his hand. There’s no point in beating around the bush.
‘I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching these past few months, and I don’t want this life anymore.
This—ridiculous fame thing. I don’t want it for myself, and I don’t want it for the kids.
It’s far too high a price to pay for whatever we’re trying to achieve. ’
‘Okay.’ I can see his cogs turning, trying to find a way through the problem. ‘Right. Well, I can—we can speak to Mara, maybe? And—’
‘No, no.’ I interrupt him. ‘Sorry, I’m not being clear. I know that’s your life. I’m not asking you to walk away from your career. I’m saying I want out.’
‘Out?’
Shit. That was probably a little too abrupt.
Those blue eyes I’ve loved for so long are wide with shock, and now that freedom is on the horizon, I have a pang of preemptive grief for everything I’ll be giving up.
Him, and that aura of magic that still captivates me, despite myself.
These things are never clear-cut. Of course I’ll miss my husband.
Our marriage. Our life. But I know, in a profound way, that if Noah lets me choose him, I’ll be doing the kindest thing for myself that I’ve possibly ever done.
‘I want a divorce, Jackson. I’m sorry to land it on you like this, but there it is.’
‘A divorce? But—but what about Burberry?’
I laugh out loud then: I hurl a scoff right out of my body, because his reaction is so un-bloody-believable and yet so fucking predictable. Getting the ink dry on our next piece of high-paying publicity. Seriously.
‘Burberry is not happening, because every time I think about locking myself into this for five more years, my anxiety goes through the roof. Come on, Jackson. I’m telling you I don’t want our life or our marriage anymore. Burberry should be the least of our worries right now.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He holds up his hands. ‘You’re right.
I’m just—in shock. I thought this was what you wanted; you’ve always been as ambitious as me.
You know what—I suspect the past few months have taken their toll on you.
It’s been a lot to juggle, and now you’re grieving.
You’ve just buried your mum, for fuck’s sake.
I think anyone would advise you not to make big decisions when you’re in such an emotional state. ’
It’s a little patronising and a lot sensible. It’s exactly what I’ve told myself, and my therapist has told me.
‘Look. I agree with you. But I’ve had weeks to think this over, and honestly, I owe Mum a debt of gratitude, because knowing I was going to lose her has given me a real kick up the arse.’
‘But why not take it slowly, babe? Why not let things settle down and see how you feel in a month or two? This is your whole life you’re talking about.’
Exactly. It’s my whole life. That’s why I can’t live this life for a moment longer than I have to.
‘Because,’ I say slowly, ‘there’s something I haven’t told you. I had a—relationship with someone over the summer, and it’s not going on anymore, but I’m in love with him.’
The guy reels, and despite everything he’s done over the course of our marriage, in this moment I pity him.
‘What the actual fuck?’
I can see he’s about to go into full wounded-male-ego mode. ‘Be very careful about how you judge me on this, Jackson.’
He takes a deep breath and visibly collects himself, running his hand over the top of his shaved head. ‘But you didn’t tell me.’
‘No, I didn’t tell you, and that was wrong of me. But you and Leila were all over the tabloids at the time, so I figured I deserved a bit of fun.’
‘Is that what it was? A bit of fun? Who is this dickhead?’
‘That’s all I thought it would be, but I got in too deep. And he’s not a dickhead. It’s Noah.’
‘Noah? Fuck.’ He pushes himself away from the bar and gets off his stool, pacing around the island, before stopping and dropping forward, putting his head in his hands. ‘Was it going on in France?’
I swallow. ‘Yeah. That’s where it started—it was the night that server from Marmont hit the news. I was seriously pissed off, and so was he, on my behalf, and it all just... went from there, really. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.’
‘God, so those photos of you guys…’
‘They were real.’
‘I’m such an idiot! I just never thought you would—’
‘What? Sink to your level? Or get disillusioned with what we have and look for some human connection elsewhere?’
He groans. ‘Both, I guess. Not just because I expect you to be more principled than me, but I didn’t realise you were unhappy. And now I feel like a total jackass. And—’
‘What?’
He laughs without humour. ‘It feels really, really shitty being on this end of it, and I know I have no right to be, but I’m seriously fucked off. I want to punch his lights out.’
‘Jackson!’
‘I’m just saying.’ He holds up his hands. ‘I won’t, okay? But you said it’s over? But you think you’re’—he grimaces—‘in love with him.’
I slip down from my bar stool and move around the island to join my husband. I put a hand on his back and rub it.
‘I know it’s a lot to take in. It had to finish when the paps got us. I had to deny everything. But I realised later that it was a knee-jerk decision and I hadn’t really thought through what I wanted. And yeah, I love him, but he doesn’t know that. He thinks I chose you.’
This is a really, really shit conversation. I’m hurting my husband, who I love despite everything, and I’m standing at the edge of a precipice, and somewhere, a few miles away, is a wonderful, caring man who’s hopefully still in love with me, which means he’s also hurting. But not for much longer.
‘What do you want, Hon? Like, what do you really want?’
His tone is defeated and curious rather than hostile, so I take the question at face value.
‘I want to be with him. Properly. I want a life with him. And I want to be known for my success as a businesswoman and not as one half of a celebrity couple.’
He juts his lower lip thoughtfully and turns to face me. Our faces are centimetres apart.
‘That’s a lot of change. I mean, I get that you have feelings for him, but he’s been a big part of the whole process of your mum dying.
Are you sure you’re not projecting? It would be totally normal to do that.
Maybe you’re fixating on him because he’s been an authority figure at a really difficult time in your life.
It’s pretty fucking unethical of him, come to think of it. ’
‘Stop that. It’s not unethical. He’s done everything he can to maintain an arm’s length relationship with us.
We had a totally different doctor—you met her.
It’s not about any of that. It’s him. He’s a wonderful person who’s devoted his life to helping families who are in great pain. That’s why I’m in love with him.’
‘Fuck’s sake.’ Jackson rubs at a non-existent spot on the marble. ‘Of course the guy’s got to be a fucking saint.’
‘I know it’s hard. And I’m aware it’ll be a lot to ask of the kids, too. I’m hoping that, when the dust settles, having two amazing and very different guys in their lives will be a positive for them. If Noah agrees to take a chance on me and our crazy baggage.’
‘Of course he will. Who wouldn’t want you? I just wish I’d known. I wish this was all happening differently.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry. But he’s going to be there tomorrow, and I need to talk to him. I need to see if he’s willing to give us a chance. But I need you not to do anything to scare him off tomorrow, okay? Please, honey.’
Jackson sighs, and growls, and digs the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. ‘Okay. But only because it’s a funeral.’
‘Thank you.’
We stand there for a moment in silence, contemplating the seismic changes we’re both facing in life.
‘I can’t believe you were unhappy and I didn’t know,’ Jackson says. ‘We’re good together, babe. You and I are similar creatures—that’s why we work so well together, even if our marriage isn’t the most conventional.’
‘We are similar, but I do wonder if that’s a good thing.
’ I look down at my glass. ‘It’s done amazing things for our careers, but I’m not sure it’s healthy.
And I can’t stop thinking that maybe you figured that out long before me, and that’s why you fell for that teacher.
And I’ve been feeling so bad about it, because the way I handled that—well, I’m not proud of it.
And what if I cost you your chance at happiness? What if she was a better fit for you?’
Jackson is quiet for a moment. ‘Jenna was definitely special—I could really have fallen for her. I did fall for her. But I wouldn’t have left you.
And I can’t exactly walk away from the fame stuff unless I retire.
It’s part of the gig for me, and I have to accept that, and any woman who’s in my life has to accept that too. ’
I ask the question I’ve been wanting to ask. ‘And Leila? Tell me honestly, how do you feel about her?’
Another pause, and a smile. ‘She’s… she’s a good one.
There’s something there, probably more than I’ve admitted to you, babe, or to myself, to be honest. And she gets it, the fame thing.
Or, at least, she’ll have to get it, because Vet’s going to send her stratospheric.
She’s amazing in it. So, yeah. If my wife’s dumping my sorry arse, Leila might be up for comforting me. ’
‘Hmm. I suspect if you and Leila were to get it on properly, it may be a silver lining for Mara, too?’ I wiggle my eyebrows at him. ‘A new golden couple for her to go crazy with?’
‘Two new golden couples.’ He nudges her shoulder. ‘You and the pretty doctor.’
‘I’ll have you know, the press is never getting a photo of me and Noah again.’