29. Carlisle
29
Carlisle
S lamming my laptop shut, I throw it onto the couch in disgust. Disgust at myself for giving into temptation and committing the cardinal sin when dating a celebrity—googling Ben’s name—and disgust at what I found when I did it.
I’d mentally prepared myself to see plenty of photos of Ben and Willa together in public, but I didn’t expect to find personal, candid photos of them. Snuggling on the plane. Hugging in a hotel hallway.
Those images upset me because they're snapshots of Ben and Willa acting like a couple in love when they didn’t need to be. Those photos were taken in private spaces where they could drop the guise of being in a relationship.
But they didn’t and that hurts.
I can only hope that they were staged photos planted by the movie studio to authenticate their relationship.
But even more concerning—why did the article say that Ben and Willa are sharing a hotel room? That can’t be true. Surely, Ben would have told me if it was. It’s got to be another detail added for the media’s benefit.
But what if it’s not ?
“Ugh! I’m so over this and it’s barely even started,” I grumble to Harper. I grab another truffle from the box of chocolates Ben sent me, smashing it into my mouth as I let out a small groan to release my dissatisfaction. But then my groan turns into a moan because these truffles are freaking delicious.
Harper pats my knee to soothe me. “I know it sucks. But I’m sure it isn’t what it looks like.”
My phone lights up with a FaceTime request from Ben. Eagerly, I grab it and stalk into my room to speak to him privately.
“Babe!” He exclaims, his handsome face breaking into a huge smile. “It’s so good to see you.”
Despite my frustration and fears, I find myself smiling back at him. It’s good to see his face too. “Hey you. I missed that ugly mug of yours.”
“I miss you too, babe. How are things?”
My smile slips from my lips. “They were okay, but then I saw the photos—"
“Shit, I’m sorry, Carlisle. I don’t know who took them or who leaked them, but I’m pissed. We were on a chartered plane with only the cast and studio employees, so we literally have a snake on the plane.” When I don’t smile at his dumb movie joke, Ben grimaces apologetically. “And don’t get me started on the fucking hotel photo. It never should have happened.”
My heart drops. The photos weren’t staged.
“You’re right that no one should have taken, or leaked, those photos, but that’s not what I’m upset about.” I blurt out. “I’m upset about the fact that you put yourself in those situations with Willa to begin with. ”
“God, I’m sorry.” Ben groans, a regretful look on his face. “It was totally innocent. On the plane, Willa asked if she could use my shoulder as her pillow—"
I snort and roll my eyes, muttering, “Of course, she did.” That anxious feeling in my stomach that Willa wants to make good on this farce hasn’t lessened. It’s only grown stronger since seeing these photos.
“It’s not like that, Carlisle. I promise. She fell asleep on me. I popped a melatonin to help me sleep, and when I was sleeping, I leaned into her too. As for the hotel, we’d had an argument, and I gave her a hug. There wasn’t anything sexual or romantic about it. Thad was actually on the other side of me, but he got cropped out of the photo. I can tell how upset you are and I’m sorry.”
“The article I read said that you and Willa are sharing a hotel room. Is that true?”
He blows out a breath. “Kind of. The studio has us sharing a suite, so we share a living area, but we each have our own bedrooms and bathrooms. It’s all for appearances sake. The studio doesn’t want a hotel worker blabbing to the press that we’re staying in separate hotel rooms. It’s just another layer of authenticity for the showmance.”
I nod shakily. Not great news but not as bad as it could have been.
“Babe, I only have feelings for you. You’ve become my cornerstone, Carlisle. When I wake up, the first thing I think of is you. When something good happens, I want to tell you. When something bad happens, you’re the person I want to seek out for comfort. It’s your touch that I crave and when I see your smile, it lights me up inside.” He sighs heavily. I know he’s struggling with this situation just like I am, and his words of reassurance are my soul’s panacea.
“You always know just what to say to make me feel better, Ben.” I scratch my nose and stuff down the lingering remains of my worries. Our time together is limited. I don’t want to spend it fighting. Glancing at the gold glimmering on my wrist, I finger the charms on my bracelet and smile pensively. “How is Paris? Today’s a press junket, right?”
“We haven’t gotten to see much of the city yet. We arrived yesterday and went straight to film festival. We got back to the hotel late last night and we’re staying inside the hotel all day for the junket. I’m calling you during a short break.”
“What exactly does a press junket entail?” Seriously, my only knowledge about press junkets comes from the movie Notting Hill .
“Today’s junket involves twenty separate one-on-one interviews with members of the European press. Magazines, newspapers, online news outlets, TV programs, podcasts. It's basically like speed dating with reporters. Each interview is only ten or fifteen minutes, so we end up getting the same couple of questions over and over all day.”
Rolling my eyes, I hypothesize, “Let me guess. They all want to know about your relationship with Willa.”
“Unfortunately, that’s the gist of most of the interviews so far,” he sighs. “It’s boring as fuck, to be honest.”
“Ah, my poor baby,” I commiserate.
He chuckles. “Don’t feel too bad for me. I get paid millions of dollars to do this shit.”
“Don’t worry, Ben. I was being sarcastic.”
“Of course you were, my snarky girl.” Someone calls his name, and he looks away from the phone’s camera for a second before turning back towards me. He drops his voice to a whisper, “Gotta go, babe. I miss you and I can’t wait to get home to you.”
BEN
Ten days until I see you.
Nine days until I hold you in my arms.
Eight days until I kiss you all over.
Seven days until I touch you and I'm never letting you go again.
The intervening days pass at a snail’s pace. I talk and text with Ben as much as possible, but it’s not often. Although he always manages to text me at some point with his daily countdown, his calls have been dropping in frequency and duration over the last couple of days. He blames it on his itinerary being packed and trying to catch up on sleep whenever he can.
I fill my days with cooking and posting new content on my blog and social media accounts. I play my Spotify playlists on repeat, listen to my favorite true crime podcasts, and finish reading two books. For my own mental well-being, I avoid watching television and surfing the web, so I don’t see or hear many stories about Ben and Willa and their lovefest-slash-press-tour.
While I miss most of the stories about them, it’s impossible to avoid them altogether. Their faces grace countless magazine covers in the grocery store. People gossip about them while chatting in the Starbuck’s line. Social media ads featuring them pop up in my feeds. Breaking news alerts flash across my phone when a news story comes out .
Their loyal fans have even adopted a hashtag shipping them— #Willen .
I wish I could say that the upside of Ben and Willa’s relationship being crammed down my throat is that I’m developing an immunity, but I’m not. When I see a photo of them together, it isn’t quite the gut punch it once was, but it’s still disconcerting.
Making the situation even more difficult is that I’m withholding my doubts and worries from Ben. I regret how emotional I was the morning Ben left because my histrionics ruined what should have been a special moment. Also, I’m embarrassed about how needy and desperate I sounded when I confronted him about the leaked photos. I let my weakness get the better of me twice, and I refuse to act that way again. Instead, I’m working hard to bottle up my insecurities and present a happy front to Ben, especially since it’s gotten harder to connect over the past few days. He’s usually stressed and tired when he calls, and I don’t want to add more drama onto his already full plate.
However, since I haven’t brought my worries to light, they are left to linger and fester and grow in the darkness.
I haven’t talked to him in almost thirty-six hours, so I’m happily surprised when my phone rings with an incoming call a few minutes later.
“Babe! I’ve been missing you,” Ben’s voice greets me and immediately soothes the raging storm within me. “I can only talk for a minute before we have our next appearance on a late-night talk show, but I needed to hear your voice. I’m sorry I missed you yesterday. Our day was insane, and we didn’t get back to the hotel until late and I just crashed.”
“It’s okay, Ben. You need to take care of yourself and get your rest.” Rationally, I understand why we didn’t get to talk yesterday, but it still sucked to only receive two measly texts from him. “I miss you too, Ben. I am counting down the days until I see you again!”
“We’re halfway there, babe.” Per usual, he sounds worn down, which only strengthens my resolve to put on a brave face for him.
“What have you been up to today? Was it a glitzy premiere or something else?”
“Magazine interview and photo shoot. Then dinner followed by a tonight’s appearance. It’s always the same series of questions. It’s so redundant and boring.” He pauses. “I’m sorry to be crabby. I’m exhausted and ready to get back home to you.”
“Don’t apologize. Around everyone else you can put on an act, but around me, I want you to be yourself. I can’t imagine how tired and drained you must feel.”
“Same, Carlisle. I want that sentiment to go both ways. If you’re not feeling okay, please tell me. I worry that you’re not always being honest with me.”
Guilt tugs at me. Apparently, I’m not as good of an actress as I hoped if Ben can tell that I’m keeping my worries from him. But then again, Ben has always had a sixth sense when it comes to reading my thoughts.
“I’ll try,” I relent. “I know how much you’re dealing with right now—Willa, the crazy schedule, the jet lag, the studio—and I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’ll never be a burden to me. Being in a relationship means managing the good and the bad. Be honest. How are you feeling right now?”
“Now? Pretty great. Talking to you always cheers me up.”
“Okay, good. You do the same for me too, babe.”
Ben shoots me a sexy smirk. I swear when Ben smiles at me, even when it’s through a telephone screen, I can feel the power of it like it’s a physical touch. God, I miss his touches and how he makes me feel when we’re together. I've never had another lover who makes me feel the ways that Ben does.
“Babe? You still with me?”
I startle when I realize that I zoned out and missed what Ben was saying. His grin grows wider, as if he knows full well that he just caught me fantasizing about him. Smiling ruefully, I admit as much. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I asked what your plans are for Christmas.”
I haven’t given much thought to how I’ll spend the Christmas holidays. I wrinkle my nose at his question. “Umm. Truthfully, I don’t know. I’d planned on seeing my family, but since they’re going to Mexico, I don’t know what I’ll end up doing.” I can’t hide the wistfulness from my tone.
“I don’t have any plans either, so if you want to spend Christmas together, I’d love that.”
“Really?” My eyes light up like a kid in a candy store at the idea of spending another holiday with Ben, and with his invitation to spend Christmas together, some of my worries disappear. Making future plans is a good sign.
Ben chuckles at my obvious delight. “Yes, really. Babe, I miss you so much, and I want to make up for lost time. I’ll have Jo rent a house on a secluded, tropical island. Just the two of us. No paparazzi, no pretending, no hiding. We can hang out in swimsuits and drink fruity frozen drinks all day, cook dinner together, and then make love all night. How does that sound?”
“Like the best Christmas ever,” I gush, smiling widely.
“And unlike Harper, I won’t let you day drink and forget to reapply sunscreen,” he teases.