34. TIAGO
TIAGO
‘Hey, can I ask you a personal question?’ I ask, tying the back of her bikini, trying to ignore how buttery soft her skin is as my fingertips brush the top of her back.
She huffs a laugh. ‘When have you ever asked before?’
‘Are you sad?’
A beat. ‘Right now?’
‘No, like generally.’
‘No.’
I change to the bottom bow. ‘Would you tell me if you were?’
It comes out as a whisper, ‘No.’
As she turns around, I take her by the shoulders so she has no choice but to look me dead in the eyes. ‘I want you to hear me when I say this. You’re beautiful, Juliet Evangeline Butler.’
She rolls her eyes and tries to shake me off. ‘Cheers.’
I don’t budge. ‘You’re beautiful.’
Her eyes cool. ‘You just said that.’
‘You’re not listening. You’re beautiful.’
‘Enough.’
‘You’re beautiful.’
‘Stop it!’
‘You’re beautiful.’
It happens without warning. Her eyes fill and spill over in a heartbeat, and her hands clamp over them.
What have I done?
I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight against my chest. Watching Jules cry rattles me to the core. It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s always so together, so capable, so mesmerising, and now she looks like a broken little girl.
I start when she bursts from my grip. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘Nothing! I’m trying to compliment you, Jules. Is that so bad? I want you to see how incredible you are.’
‘Stop it! I’m not some lost puppy who needs taken care of.’ She shoves tears away but they keep coming in a torrent. ‘I built an empire and I didn’t need some man-child telling me I look pretty to do it.’
I’ll shelve man-child for later. Now’s not the time.
‘That’s not what I’m saying at all. You therapised me so now it’s my turn to therapise you.
You quantify your value – money, likes, calories.
That’s not life! No one’s lying on their death bed agonising over how much REM sleep they had.
But that’s ok! You don’t see yourself clearly, but I do. You’re worth so much more—’
She stamps her foot. ‘You don’t know me!’
‘I know enough.’
‘You don’t get to judge me. You’re not my boyfriend. Piss off.’
I wasn’t planning on having this out in wet swim shorts but it looks like we’re doing it anyway. ‘Why not?’
She flinches. ‘Why would you even want to be?’
‘Because I think we’re really good together.’ And I really, really, really fucking like you, but I think she got it with the whole compliment thing. Don’t need to fall on my ass twice in the space of a minute.
‘I disagree.’
I roll my eyes. ‘You would.’
She wipes her nose with her wrist. ‘It’s not like you’re capable of being monogamous anyway.’
‘I’m not capable? I haven’t texted another girl in months. Look at my phone.’ I go to my bag.
‘Don’t bother.’
‘I’m being so serious right now.’
‘Don’t pretend it’s even a little bit about me; it’s because of your reputation.’
I go still, my brain spiralling in a thousand different directions. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying,’ she sniffs, eyelashes glistening, ‘I know you swore off your old life to get back to Volare.’ Fuck the phone. She knew? All this time? ‘Don’t stand there and lie like this has anything to do with me.’
‘Not at first, I’ll give you that, but doesn’t it tell you something that I broke it to sleep with you in the first place?’
She shrugs. ‘I was the only one there.’
Like you were the only offer I got, sweetheart. Cute.
Scoring points isn’t going to win me any favours so I swallow it and move on. ‘And ever since Monaco I’ve barely even looked at another girl. It’s only been you, Jules – for almost two months.’
‘Am I supposed to feel special that you’ve lied to me since the day we met?’
What is it with this woman and semantics? ‘I prefer the word omitted.’
‘You don’t want a girlfriend, Tiago,’ she says, sounding almost bored, ‘you just want a leg up in your career.’
She’s not listening to me. She’s defensive and lashing out, unable or unwilling to understand what I’m telling her.
‘I’m not him, Jules,’ I say quietly.
I can see it in her eyes: I’ve touched a nerve – and I don’t think it’s a good one. ‘What, successful in your career?’
This fucking woman! Screw trying to talk her down. That was a low blow and she knows it. She had no right to hit below the belt when all I’m doing is showing her what she means to me.
I have to unclench my teeth to speak. ‘At least I don’t punish people for trying to care about me.’
‘You don’t care about me. Being with me is the easiest way back to Volare.’
‘Are you kidding me? I wanted you knowing you’d never want me back – or never let yourself want me back – and that was fine.
We could see each other without a soul knowing, and it worked for me.
But now I think you do want me, but there’s a little ember of realness emerging so you burn it to the ground. ’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You flirt, you charm, you collect people like they’re proof you’re untouchable.
You smile to the camera, pretend like you’re completely open with your fans.
But in reality, no one knows you – not where you live, what you drink, what your real hair colour is, what you’re scared of.
But I do. You showed me the real you and I loved what I saw, but that wall’s up so high not even the Great Wall of—’
Her slap comes out of nowhere. I hear it before I feel it. It’s not the first time a woman’s hit me, but somehow it stings the most. My cheek pulses in time with my heartbeat as I hold it, heat radiating into my palm.
She doesn’t look at me as she snatches her bag and disappears below deck. For the first time in my life, I’m left utterly speechless.