42. 42
It was the moment I had been dreading since agreeing to do the show. The one that I hoped I would be able to avoid; that I had told no one about.
My failed engagement was the reason I was here, the reason I had been so eager to get out of America, the reason I was desperate for any job that would make me money.
It was the direct center of the hurricane my life had become the last few months.
And now here it was, out in the open for everyone to know about.
I blinked and then blinked again, trying to get my brain to catch up with my current reality.
Gemma was still looking at me, waiting for an answer to her question. The audience, and even the production crew behind them, had gone utterly silent, collectively holding their breath in anticipation of what I would say next.
But my mind was blank, and a low humming was building in my ears. I couldn’t grasp what was going on and how, after keeping one secret under wraps for so long, it had finally been revealed.
I opened my mouth to say something, though I still wasn't sure what, when I felt a hand slip into mine.
Callum.
I looked over at him; at the face I had come to feel so much for.
Something tightened in my gut, fear and anxiety battling for dominance.
In a perfect world, he would have never found out.
We could have gone about our time in here never having to talk about the one thing I hoped to keep hidden.
Now, not only was that never going to happen, but the opportunity to tell him the truth myself had been taken away from us.
And yet Callum didn’t seem mad or upset. No, he just smiled at me, that reassuring grin of his, and squeezed my hand in support.
If I hadn’t already wanted to cry, that would have done it.
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and turned back to Gemma.
“Yes, I was engaged for three months earlier this year. I called it off and moved to London for work. I haven’t been in touch with my ex since.”
That was more than I owed anyone, and all I was going to be saying about the matter on a show that was currently being broadcast, live, across the United Kingdom.
Gemma must have seen the determination on my face—or felt bad for me—because she stared at me for a weighted moment but didn’t ask any follow up questions. She simply turned toward the camera and began to wrap up the show.
“Well, we all have exes we wouldn’t want to come crawling out of the woodwork as soon as we got a bit of attention, so we can just leave it at that,” she said, giving her signature hosting smile straight down the lens.
“That's all we’ve got time for tonight. Make sure to keep watching Bella Amore on your screens every night. See ya!”
She wiggled her fingers at the camera and held a smile until someone from beyond the wall of production lights called out, “And we’re clear!”
Everyone slumped down, letting out held breaths and relaxing at being off camera for a few moments.
Producers immediately flooded the makeshift stage in the villa’s driveway, ushering us all back into the house.
I turned to Callum. I needed to explain. Needed to tell him the truth, what really happened, and how it had led me here.
But we were being pulled apart, separated between girls and guys to debrief and record confessionals. It was all happening so fast, and I needed to get a grip on the situation. Needed to talk to him before I picked apart my past with anyone else.
“I need a smoke!” I yelled out, loud enough so Callum would hear me.
“Since when do you smoke?” Chiara asked me, as if I had lost my mind.
Maybe I had.
“It’s new.” I turned to Harry and grabbed his arm. “Please, I need a ciggie.”
I must have looked as desperate as I felt because he begrudgingly let me go. “Not long, Poppy. I mean it, we need your confessional filmed asap.”
I hurried along to the side of the villa. I caught Callum’s eye on the way out. He nodded at me in understanding.
When I got to the smoking area, I couldn’t sit still. I had started shaking at some point and couldn’t stop.
I paced back and forth, my mind spinning in circles. My past wasn’t something I was ashamed of. I hadn’t even done anything wrong. I didn’t know what my ex was saying to the press or how he had weaseled his way from New York to London, but it wasn’t him I was worried about.
No, my biggest concern at the moment was Callum and how he would take the news. I hoped that it wouldn’t impact the way he felt about me; that he wouldn’t view me as damaged goods and change his mind about being together.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out. It had only been a few minutes, but Callum had managed to slip out and now here he was.
I stood there, simply staring at him. Wondering if everything was different.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t know how else to start.
He walked toward me then, coming to stand right in front of me, and cupped my face with his hands, tilting my head back.
And then he kissed me. It wasn’t intense or full of lust like our kisses had been all week. No, it was soft and gentle in a way I didn’t even realize I needed him to be. When he pulled back, he was smiling and the sight eased some of the tension in my gut.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. Your past is your past and if you’re okay with it, I’d like to know about it.”
I nodded at him and took a step back. Sitting down on the space’s small bench, I let out a breath and started talking.
“Gavin and I dated for five years. We met right out of college. Friends of friends of friends, that kind of thing. And it was easy and fun and exciting in all the ways a new relationship should be. But looking back now, the red flags were always there. He never took me on a real date; I was pretty much always second to his friends and what they were doing. But I loved him, so it was easy to ignore some of the not-so-great things. And we were living in New York, and I was working on paving my own career path, and I thought I was happy. I thought I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing the things I was supposed to be doing. So when he got down on one knee and proposed last Christmas, I said ‘yes.’ I thought it was everything I had ever wanted.”
I took a deep breath and pressed on. At the very least, at the end, Callum would know the truth.
“It didn’t take very long for things to go off the rails after that. Maybe because I had a ring on my finger, he got comfortable. Or, well, even more comfortable. Maybe I just didn’t want to see it before.”
I took in another shaky gulp of air, steeling myself to confess the worst of it. The part that still made me sick. That kept me up at night.
“We—” I started and then stopped and then started again. “It was my idea. I said it first. We had been living together for so many years that I didn’t think twice about combining our bank accounts. I thought since we were engaged, we might as well do it. It was going to happen eventually, anyway.”
“Oh no,” Callum breathed out, catching on to where this was going.
I nodded and continued.
“At first, I noticed the balance dipping when it shouldn’t have been. But I thought, joint expenses are new to me. It’s normal. It’s fine. But it wasn’t fine. He . . . ”
Deep breath in and out. I was almost there.
“One morning I woke up, and I had this feeling. This sick feeling in my gut. Like my body already knew what had happened. I checked our account and there it was: a zero balance. It was all gone. All my money, every penny I had ever saved, like it never even existed. Even then I couldn’t believe it, couldn’t fathom that this was actually happening.
I thought that it had to have been a mistake.
Some kind of misunderstanding. So I walked into our kitchen, and he was sitting there, drinking a cup of coffee, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. And I asked him about it.”
Another breath, in and out. I was nearly to the end.
“He laughed. Actually laughed and told me, ‘yes.' He had used that account. To buy himself a motorcycle. It was some special one, top of the line and it was going to be delivered the next day.”
“What a prick,” Callum said.
“The worst part is that when I told him that it was too much, that it was all my money, and the account was for us to use for our future, do you know what he said?”
Callum just shook his head.
“He told me, ‘You can always make more money.’ As though it was as simple as that. As though I had just told him we were out of milk or toilet paper. He didn’t see what was wrong with it, why what he did was such a breach of my trust.
“And I realized, in that moment as he was sipping his coffee, so comically unbothered, that this would be my whole life if I married him. That it had been my life. Every time he went out with his friends instead of me, every time he hadn’t called or texted or kept me in the loop about where he was and what he was doing.
Every time he forgot my birthday or our anniversary.
It was all about him, at all times, and it always would be.
So I packed my stuff, then and there, and left.
I stayed with a friend, and then a week later I got a call about the job in London and that was it. I was on the next plane out of town.”
I let out a breath and sagged back against the bench.
It had felt surprisingly good to get it all out there.
Cathartic, even. I hadn’t told anyone the full story of what had happened.
It was too embarrassing. I was mortified that I let something like that happen to me.
But by saying it all out loud, I was finally able to see that it wasn't my fault.
There was nothing I could have done to change things.
In one way or another, the path Gavin and I had been on would have only ever ended.
“I’m so sorry, Pop,” Callum said, reaching for me. I stood up from the bench and stepped into him, letting him wrap his arms around me and taking solace in his embrace.