36. Miguel
MIGUEL
THEN
January, Year Five
I woke with a gasp and reached for Graham, but he wasn’t in bed with me. The pool lights illuminated his naked silhouette near the window, where he rested his head on the forearm braced against the glass. All day, he’d been antsy about something but kept quiet, never one to complain.
Wrapping my arms around his waist from behind, I pressed my cheek to his shoulder. “It’s the middle of the night. Why are you awake?”
His fingers slid into my sleeve and circled my wrist, holding tight. “I fucked up, Miguel.”
“How?”
When he turned, still holding my wrist, regret loomed heavily in his tired eyes. “The announcement comes out tomorrow.”
The unknown force that startled me awake began taking shape in my head, ominous and unwelcome. My heart rate spiked. “What announcement?”
He grasped my hands, twining our fingers together, but mine remained loose as he kissed each knuckle. “The breakup. I told you Tate and I were calling off the engagement.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t say when. You never said it was a done deal. And you damn sure never mentioned an announcement coming out tomorrow.” I took a step back. “How could you plan this without talking to me first?”
“With the media getting antsy for wedding details, our teams got involved—”
“Excuses,” I spit, snatching my hands from him. “The same excuses every time. It’s always the ‘teams.’” My exaggerated finger quotes made him flinch. “What about me, Graham? Am I not a valuable member of your team? Shouldn’t I get a say in the decisions that affect our future?”
He shook his head, a silent plea as he reached for me. “Can we take a breath and talk about this?”
“Of course you want to talk about it after keeping me in the dark.”
I stomped to the bathroom, needing space to figure out my next move. He followed. Once we were in the closet, and he blocked the doorway, I felt cornered. Trapped. Out of time. All my nerve endings sizzled, and a single drop of accelerant was all it would take for me to combust.
“I’m finally bringing us into the light. Jonathan and I have it all planned out.”
My arms flailed wildly. “Oh my god, stop! Do you even hear yourself? The plans! The plans! Always with the fucking plans that revolve around what you want and your career. Not everything is about you!”
Nodding vigorously, he snagged the dirty cotton shorts draped over the side of the hamper. “You’re right. Every decision I make is for us, with you at the forefront of my mind.”
I pulled a leather duffel bag off the shelf, giving him my back. “If that were the case, we wouldn’t be having this conversation again. You’d care more about respecting me and our relationship than your arrangement with Tate.”
“We needed her protection. All the sacrifices I’ve made for my career would be for nothing if I couldn’t make movies in the end. Then what good am I? If I can’t live my dream, what then?”
Opening the drawers, I shoved underwear and socks in the bag. “Even if you were an actor fighting for a spot at the bottom of the list, you’d have me. Am I not enough?”
“If that were the case, you wouldn’t even be here.”
Everything screeched to a stop, the only sound my harsh, panting breaths.
Slowly, I spun around, clutching the front of my pajama shirt in a fist. The gaping bag in my other hand mirrored Graham’s horrified expression.
His mouth opened and closed, searching for words.
I turned away and grabbed a folded stack of undershirts.
“Miguel, my darling, that came out wrong. I only meant we never would’ve met if—”
My stiff hand in the air cut off his explanation. I didn’t need one. We met because Graham was famous. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been at the beach that morning, waiting on the nominee announcements for Hollywood’s most prestigious award.
He’d been running at full speed toward his goals long before I entered the picture.
Our relationship could destroy Graham’s career.
Acting, directing, all of it could end because he loved me.
Add guilt to the list of reasons for my anxiety, and it was enough to push me beyond the brink of what I could even dream of handling.
For years, I’d beaten my insecurities into submission.
Ever since we got through the early rough patches and carved out a comfortable, secure foxhole to hide our relationship in, I’d lived in a constant state of fear.
It may have been quiet for months on end, shoved into the background, but it was there all long, waiting for the bomb to drop and shatter our perfect bubble.
Even if Graham survived the blast and bounced back, I wasn’t sure I’d be so lucky.
As I looked at the love of my life, and gazed into his remorseful eyes, a confession spilled from my lips, unbidden but honest. “I can’t do this anymore, Graham. I’m tired.”
My voice sounded disembodied. My movements, even more so as I jammed random accessories into the duffel.
I felt wholly untethered. Was I really doing this?
Could I walk away from the man I loved, knowing I’d cause him pain?
I had to, at least temporarily, until I figured out how to ease my own mental suffering.
Only when I zipped the bag did he realize the gravity of the situation. “What are you doing?” he asked, stepping closer, eyes flicking from me to the bag.
“Leaving.”
“What? No.” Panic seized his voice. “Let’s see how tomorrow goes, then we’ll figure out what happens next, together.”
I scoffed. “There is no tomorrow for us. Shame on me for taking so long to see the writing on the wall.”
Hooking the bag on my shoulder, I squeezed past him and headed for the stairs. He gave chase.
“Darling, please. I thought you’d be happy. If you’ll hear me out, we’ve made a good plan.”
“The only plan you’ll ever have is the one where you get everything you want in the end, no matter the cost. What you haven’t realized is I’m always the cost.” My voice caught on the lie as I reached the foyer.
Graham’s love for me was the cost. Giving him up was the price I had to pay. He lived a somewhat sheltered life, despite his fame, and I refused to watch the world he’d given so much of himself to break his heart.
“I’ll send someone to pick up the rest of my things.”
It took two tries to open the front door. I failed on the first try because it was locked and I couldn’t think straight. My fumble allowed him time to rally the fighter in him.
He grabbed my arm as I crossed the threshold. “Miguel, look at me.”
“Let me go.” My commanding tone wavered at the end.
His voice hid none of his agony. “If you’re ripping my fucking heart out, then at least have the balls to look me in the eye.”
“Stop pressuring me!” I cried, spinning to face him. “I need time to think.”
Crazed eyes flickered between mine at lightning speed. “How long? Days? A week? Tell me how long you need and what I can do to fix this.”
In the grander scheme, we were both at fault. I’d expected this day of reckoning but did nothing to stop it. Graham made crucial decisions for us, doing what he thought was best for the sake of his career. Aside from complaining about being left out, I stayed quiet and let him lead.
What I hadn’t expected was Graham becoming the biggest threat to our security. Given his history of being reckless and impulsive, I should’ve known better. That oversight was my fault, alone.
I raised my chin as high my heavy guilt would allow. “You can’t fix this tonight. Now let go of me. I need space.”
“For how long? Miguel, I can’t—” His breath shuttered, and tears raced down his cheeks. “Don’t leave me, darling. Please. I’ll make it right.”
“Give me time. I’ll come to you when I’m ready.”
The lie cost me dearly when a glimmer of hope returned to his eyes. I’d never be ready to stand in his spotlight or ruin his life.
A sob attacked my throat, but I held it at bay while looking at his chest. “Goodbye, Graham.”
I ripped my arm from his grasp and hurried down the steps. Cruel silence lengthened the short distance from the porch to my car. I opened the driver’s door and threw my bag into the passenger seat, still choking on that sob.
“Miguel!”
The crack in his voice—the sheer agony in his realization—struck my chest, and the sob broke free. I’d hear the echo of his pain for years to come, if not a lifetime.
I didn’t look back when I started the car and threw it into gear. I didn’t check the rearview mirror as the car rounded the trickling fountain. A flood of tears hindered my vision as I passed through the gate, but I kept driving.
For four years, Graham and Tatum’s fake relationship was the shield protecting us from public scrutiny and unrelenting criticism.
The shield was destroyed, and there could be no looking back.
There may never come a time when I would look forward either.
Everything had gone sideways. And after that night, I expected sideways would be the perfect word to describe a life without Graham.