Chapter XI #2
“And then one day, I get a call from the LAPD. I knew what they were going to say before I even picked up the phone.” He runs a hand over his face, then drinks deeply from his coffee mug.
When he speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion.
“She ran off the road on Mulholland Drive. No one else was hurt, thank god, but they found enough ketamine in her system to kill a horse. When the police told me what happened, I laughed. It was the most deranged reaction, but I couldn’t help it.
Of course, my actress wife went out like she was in a fucking David Lynch movie. ”
“Did you know she was using again?” I bury my question in my own mug.
“At the time, I would have sworn I didn’t.
But when I look back on it, I remember moments when she would leave Gracie with me and disappear for a few hours.
Or her behavior would be slightly off. She would get this glassy look in her eyes.
Her reflexes were slow.” He shakes his head.
“I was so wrapped up in my work at that time. I’d just sold my first script to a major studio.
I’d finally made enough money to put a down payment on a house for my mom.
I was able to send Gracie to a private elementary school.
I just loved my life. I was proud of what I had built.
And I loved the idea of Thea being healthy so much that I couldn’t see the reality through the fantasy.
” Reid laughs mirthlessly. “I’ve done a lot that I regret, but I will never forgive myself for letting my daughter grow up without her mom.
” His jaw tenses. “It was my job to protect them both, and I failed at it, spectacularly.”
When he meets my gaze, the pain in his eyes is palpable.
There’s a particular texture to the hurt—not the raw bleed of a fresh wound, but calcified, like a foreign object his body has hardened around.
And I can see how the story he’s told himself of Thea’s death—the liability he’s assumed for it—has only pushed that object in deeper.
“Reid. You know you aren’t responsible for Thea’s death, right?”
“I would like to believe that’s true. I know Gracie doesn’t blame me for it.”
“I knew I liked Gracie.”
Reid laughs, and this time, there’s a crack in the shell, a whisper of light seeping through.
“I try to talk to Gracie about Thea as much as I can, to try to keep her alive. But she doesn’t always want to engage.
I think that’s one of the reasons she wants to move out here for college. She wants a fresh start.”
“I understand why you want to keep her close.”
“Gracie is vigilant about avoiding drugs and alcohol, and she’s been in therapy ever since her mom died.
She’s solid. I have every reason to trust her.
” Reid looks at me with such sincerity then, as if he’s casting about for a buoy.
I reach out and take his hand, to try to be that anchor for him.
“But I can’t help but worry . . . what if things take a turn for her, and I’m not there to see it? ”
My heart breaks for them both. The unthinkable tragedy.
“You brought Gracie to New York. You let her see NYU and imagine what her life might be like here. You wouldn’t do that unless you believed she could do it.”
When he meets my eyes again, I can see the light there, the warmth, pushing against the edges of the darkness. “You’re right. And also—I was glad to have an excuse to come to the show.”
I sense that he had the same ridiculously far-fetched dream that I did: That magic would strike twice. Like the dream of an actual twenty-year-old.
We’re both quiet for a moment, letting the enormity of what he just admitted settle over us.
Then Reid pulls my hand up to meet his mouth, pressing a kiss there, and that current of electricity sparks back up again, jolting my entire system awake.
I’m suddenly aware that I’ve leaned almost entirely across the kitchen island to be closer to him—to the scent that once left me dazed and sated, that I loved so much, I would press my face into his T-shirts when he left for work.
And it fully dawns on me that our time together is limited. Again. I don’t know if Reid wants anything more from me than this moment. I do know that embarking on anything more would require so much dexterity, so much grace. So much courage, on both our parts.
Maybe this is our curse: We come together, we fall apart. The last time I was with Reid, I made a pact with myself to be brave, to allow myself to be fully seen by him. I’m faced with the same choice yet again, but this time with a heart that’s been bruised—by James, yes. But by Reid too.
Now every self-preserving instinct is screaming at me to step away. To go back to the calm, predictable environment I’ve constructed that keeps me safe. To make sure I don’t break again.
And those same alarm bells are warning me not to risk mishandling Reid’s shattered heart either.
But when his hand moves to trace my jaw, all those fears suddenly dissipate, and desire floods in. I know we’re doomed, I know this is going nowhere, I know my heart will probably get stomped on again, but right now, I can’t help myself.
I always needed more of him. And I still do.