33. Carlisle
33
Carlisle
S omehow during the last few days of the press tour, my nerves settled, and I was feeling better about the situation. It still sucked, don’t get me wrong, but I was breathing a little easier. Each time I worried that I hadn’t heard from Ben, I closed my eyes and imagined us on a beach together at Christmas, and then my blood pressure returned to normal.
It also helped that we were on the downhill slope. Only a couple more days until he would return stateside, and we could once again live in our little bubble in his Hollywood Hills compound.
But then Ben called this morning and dropped his latest bomb, stirring all my anxieties back up.
I can’t believe that Ben told me he loved me. I want to believe that he does, but the timing of his declaration feels suspicious. Possibly even manipulative. It's upsetting that the first time I heard those words from him were in response to another crisis about his fauxmance with Willa.
I hated telling Ben that I need space from him, but I do. I hope a little time will provide clarity for both of us. I wonder if these next few days will go by faster if I’m not constantly waiting around to talk to him? Perhaps knowing that Ben won’t be contacting me will make it easier.
Since Ben left, I've been staying off and on at his house, mostly because his kitchen is easy to work in and provides the most beautiful backdrop for photos of the new recipes I've been adding to my social media accounts. But also, because it makes me feel closer to Ben to be in his space, with reminders of him everywhere.
I was right in the middle of making snickerdoodle blondies when he called to deliver the bad news. After we hung up, I forced myself to keep working. I can’t focus on my personal life right now. For my mental health, I need to focus on something else, so I continued working.
After those are out of the oven and cooling, I made classic gingerbread cookies. While those bake, I begin to assemble the dough for dark chocolate orange thumbprint cookies. I'm working on my 12 Days of Christmas Cookies series for my cooking accounts. I've already finished the first nine recipes, so once I complete these recipes and get them photographed, the series will be complete.
Since Harper initially broached the idea of turning my cooking blog and social media channels into a full-time job, I’ve been posting new recipes regularly. I went out on a limb and sent emails to several of the food bloggers that I have followed for years asking if they would repost one of my new recipes. With their help, my social media reach is growing and I’m breathing a little easier.
I could ask Ben for help. If he commented on, or even liked, one of my recipes, I’d probably gain tens of thousands of followers overnight, but I won’t do that. I don’t want to ride on Ben’s coattails, and I don’t want anyone in the media to wonder why he suddenly promoted a recipe from an unknown foodie blogger. Something like that could cause unnecessary drama for him given his arrangement with Willa. I don’t want to put him in that position, so I’ve continued to keep my cooking accounts a secret.
I hear my phone ring, and I groan. Dusting my hands off on my apron, I answer the phone. “Hey Harper.” Ever since Ben delivered his bad news, I’ve been expecting her call.
“Hey, girl.” Even from her greeting, the wariness is evident in her voice. “Have you seen the news yet?”
“I haven’t seen anything because I haven’t wanted to look, but Ben called me hours ago to tell me about it.”
“Oh, thank goodness! He must already be out then.” She lets out a whoosh, her relief evident. “I felt like you needed a head’s up, but I didn’t really want to be the one to tell you. You holding up okay?”
“I’m okay, I guess.” My mind is still reeling about the situation, but then I get stuck on something Harper said. “What do you mean that he must be out already?”
There’s a pregnant pause. “Umm, out of jail.”
“Jail!” I yelp.
“I’m confused. I thought you said that Ben called you about it? Are we not talking about the same story? Outside the Tokyo nightclub? Willa looks… well, she looks like a hot mess express… and then Ben got into a tussle with the paparazzi when they were leaving and—"
“Wait, what? What nightclub? Ben said he was going straight back to the hotel to sleep. He didn’t say anything about going out with Willa. Was it the whole cast or was it just the two of them, Harper? And what tussle?”
“From the video that I saw, no one else from the movie was with them, and Ben got into it with a paparazzo. Maybe you should look at the homepage of Today’s Headlines because there’s a little more to the story. Unfortunately. ”
With my heart beating out of my chest, I put the call on speakerphone and grab my laptop to type in the web address for Today’s Headlines. It’s the featured story on their homepage, which is not a good sign. I click on the video link to watch it.
Camera clicks that sound like gunfire.
A cacophony of voices yelling their names.
Jostled camera angles as people push one another, each desperate to get the best shots.
Ben is dressed in joggers, a sweatshirt, and a baseball cap pulled down low over his face. His mouth set is in a grim line, as he escorts Willa through the crowd. She’s nestled into Ben's side, with her face buried in his chest. He has an arm wrapped protectively around her as he attempts to keep photographers away from them with his other arm. Willa’s hair is down, tousled and messy, and her eyes are glassy and unfocused. But what I notice most are her lips. Her lips are rosy and swollen, and her signature red lipstick is mostly gone, though a little is smeared around her lips. I’ve never seen her look so disheveled before.
Then Willa staggers and sways as the crowd converges on them. Ben scoops her up into his arms, cradling her like a baby.
My heart cracks wide open as she loops one arm around his neck and caresses his cheek with the other. Then she pinches his chin and tugs his face down for a kiss. His eyes flare slightly—maybe in surprise—when she kisses him, but he doesn’t stop her.
The following moment transpires so quickly that I startle as I watch it. A paparazzo jumps directly in front of Ben and Willa causing Ben to stop short and almost stumble. The man hurls insults at Willa while he snaps photo after photo of them. Stunned, Willa remains speechless, but Ben snarls at the paparazzo to move. When the photographer refuses to get out of their pathway, Ben reacts swiftly, shoving past him and knocking the man to the ground.
Then the screen goes black, and I think that’s the end of it. But before I can close the browser window, a second video begins to play. It shows Ben, flanked on either side by Japanese police officers, as he’s escorted out of a hotel.
Holy shit.
Ben lied to me. He didn’t go back to the hotel to go to bed. He went out partying with Willa. And Willa’s appearance… she looks like she’d been making out with someone. Given the kiss she gave him on that video, it seems obvious that it was probably Ben.
They got caught on camera kissing the very same night that Willa told the world they were in love. What a coincidence.
And on the very same freaking night that he told me he loved me. God, I’m so stupid.
If he lied about this, what else did he lie about? Has he been lying to me the whole time he’s been away? Did they fall in love? Was Willa’s on-air confession true?
Maybe what started as something artificial between them grew into something genuine.
Maybe there was always something between them, and he lied to me about it from the very beginning. Or maybe they weren’t just friends but were, and still continue to be, friends with benefits.
“What is happening?” I mumble, rubbing my forehead. “Do you think that he and Willa really are dating or hooking up? That would explain why he hasn’t been calling and texting me much. He wasn’t just busy. He was getting busy with Willa. They’re thrown together at every juncture; it makes sense that their feelings may have grown into something real. God, that’s probably why Willa told the press that they’re in love. ”
“Back up!” Harper yelps. “She said they’re in love?”
“Apparently,” I sigh, overcome with sadness. “That’s what Ben called about earlier. To warn me that in an interview, Willa told a reporter that she and Ben are in love.”
Stunned, Harper is silent for a minute before asking softly, “What do you think is going on?”
“I have no idea.” I close my eyes, as a tension headache hovers. “Do you think that they may have something going on between them? I mean, Ben told me he was going back to the hotel to sleep when he clearly went out partying with Willa. And none of the other cast members were in the video, so they probably didn’t go with them. Like, this clearly looks like a date. Right? And she kissed him!”
“But couldn’t it be one of their scheduled dates for publicity?”
“If that was the case, why didn’t he tell me? Why lie and tell me he was going to bed?” I pull my lip between my teeth. “It was a real date, wasn’t it?”
Harper’s hesitation before responding is telling, causing my heart to sink. “I don't know, Car. You need to talk to Ben before doing anything rash. You know how the media loves to spin things.”
“I will, but he’s half a world away from me!”
Frustrated and anxious, I shut my laptop and wander the first floor of the house. A million thoughts tumble around in my brain like a load of laundry on the spin cycle. I feel so discombobulated, I don’t even know which way is up.
Suddenly, I don’t want to be here anymore. In his house, surrounded by his things. Surrounded by memories of the two of us everywhere. “Harper, I’m coming home. Are you there or at Philip’s?”
“I’m here, honey. Come home. We’ll figure this out together.”
Hurriedly, I jog up the stairs to the bedroom. I shove the clothes and toiletries that I have stashed at Ben’s house into my tote bag .
I’m mad and sad and heartbroken and confused and jealous.
In the span of a few short weeks, I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with Ben.
I willingly reorganized my life to accommodate him, his schedule, and his needs. While he’s out living his life, I’m sequestered in his house so that no one will see me or find out about us. I’m obsessed with waiting for his phone calls and his text messages. I plan my days around his work and travel schedule in hopes that we can connect during his free moments. I think about little else other than our relationship and his fake— although is it really fake? —relationship with Willa.
How did I let this happen so quickly?
How did I lose sight of myself?
How did I let him consume my life in a month’s time?
God, I’m so pathetic.
I’m right back where I was after Thanksgiving. Fearing that Ben is lying to me and seeing Willa behind my back. Only now, the stakes are so much higher because my feelings have grown exponentially.
I’m freaking out. Running from the master bathroom, I push open the bedroom’s balcony doors, gulping in the fresh air. I feel like I’m suffocating and hyperventilating simultaneously. I need to get out of here. Now. But my body doesn’t cooperate. Like a stampede of horses, my heart is thumping wildly, and I can’t catch my breath. I’ve broken out into a light sweat all over my body. I feel hot but I'm shivering. Lifting my hair from my clammy neck, I slump against the wall. My legs falter, and I slide to the floor of the balcony, landing with a painful thud.
I’m not sure how long I sit there in a panicked daze.
The back door slams below me, and I hear Joanna repeatedly calling my name .
It’s the motivation I need to get moving again. I drag myself up from the floor. Throwing my tote over my shoulder, I jog downstairs to meet her, holding firm to the stair railing so that I don’t fall. My muscles are shaky and my movements jerky.
Joanna pulls up short when she sees me on the stairs. The relief on her face is evident. “There you are. You weren’t answering your phone.”
I halt my descent. Behind Joanna stands Becky, Ben’s publicist. Her presence only reinforces the direness of the situation.
“Carlisle, hello. It’s nice to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances. We need to discuss a few things before releasing a statement on Ben’s behalf to the public,” she says from the foot of the stairs. “Follow me please.”
Woodenly and without saying a word, I drop into the closest living room chair, placing my tote in my lap. I clench my hands tightly, leaving half-moon imprints on my palms from my fingernails.
“Joanna, this is a situation that requires the utmost discretion. Could I please have a word with Carlisle alone?”
Frowning, Joanna’s eyes dart between us. “Sure, Becky.” She hesitates and then adds, “Carlisle, I’ll be in the pool house if you need me.” She tosses a pained smile my way before exiting the house.
As soon as the patio door shuts behind Joanna, Becky begins speaking rapidly. “There was an incident outside of a club in Tokyo. Ben and Willa are fine, but Ben physically assaulted a member of the press.”
I interrupt her. “I saw the video.”
“You and everyone else in the world, it seems.” She grimaces. “Unfortunately, Ben was arrested at his hotel shortly afterwards. He’s currently being detained at a Tokyo police station, but we’re expecting him to be released soon. Usually, a payoff is sufficient to keep a paparazzo from pressing charges. Hopefully that will be the case this time too.
“This situation comes immediately on the heels of Willa telling the press that she and Ben are in love. Normally, one story or the other wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but together they create quite the clusterfuck. Our best course of action is to explain that Ben was protecting the woman he loves from an aggressive paparazzo. End of story.” Becky aims a pointed look in my direction. “Which means that you’re a major liability for Ben. As long as your past relationship with Ben remains secret, everything should be fine.” Becky reaches into her attaché case and slides a small stack of papers in my direction with a ballpoint pen atop them.
“Past relationship?”
Ignoring my question, Becky continues, “We’re in crisis mode right now. We’re trying to get this situation straightened out so that the fervor will die down quickly. However, if anyone finds out about your relationship with Ben and that the damn Constance Evans story was accurate… it would be disastrous for Ben’s career and reputation.
“I’m going to level with you, Carlisle. Ben was offered the male lead in the upcoming movie Losing Love yesterday, but I haven’t even had the chance to tell him the good news yet. This fiasco in Tokyo could not have happened at a worse time, but I’m doing what I can to smooth it over for him because this is the role that he’s been working so hard to get. However, if Lyonsfilms catches wind of any more impropriety on his part, they won’t hesitate to pull the role from him, especially since the casting has yet to be announced. This role is quite possibly the one that will win him an Academy Award.” There’s a brief pause to emphasize her next words. “But he’ll never get that opportunity if this love triangle he has going on with you and Willa blows up in his face. ”
“Love triangle,” I repeat dumbly as an icy feeling washes over me. Is Becky confirming my fear that Ben and Willa have a real relationship?
Becky squints at me, tilting her head towards me slightly and looks at me like I’m an idiot. Though, quite possibly, I am. I certainly feel like one right now.
Losing my patience, I mumble, “Cut to the chase, Becky. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you really love Ben, you’ll put his needs ahead of your own. You’ll stay quiet and walk away.” She magnanimously spreads her arms wide, as if she’s asking an inconsequential thing of me. “At least for the time being. Give us time to clean up this mess. Let Ben finish up his promotional work for his movies. I’m sure you’ll be out of town spending the holidays with your family for half of December anyway, so it’s not a big ask. I’ve already suggested the same thing to Ben, and he readily agreed. Being successful in this industry requires sacrifice, and right now Ben wants to simplify his life and focus on his priorities. If he’s interested come January, he’ll contact you, and then you two can decide if you’re meant to be or not. Sound good?”
How can she realistically be asking me if it sounds good?
My boyfriend, or rather my ex-boyfriend, sent his publicist to break up with me. One segment of his love triangle needed to get removed, and he chose to say goodbye to me.
“Sounds great, Becky,” I huff derisively.
I can read the writing on the wall. There’s no use fighting for us. Ben chose Willa instead of me.
I can’t believe Ben didn’t have the decency to break up with me himself. Ben knows how hurt and betrayed I felt after my father so easily cast me aside to prioritize his new family. Ben’s treatment feels dishearteningly similar .
Shooting me her first authentic smile of our conversation, Becky replies, “I knew you were a smart girl. Now if you can sign these documents.” Pointing at the places I’m supposed to initial and sign, she continues, “It’s a nondisclosure agreement to confirm that you won’t talk about your relationship with Ben under penalty of litigation and a hefty fine.”
Dejectedly and without even reading the fine print, I do as she asks before roughly pushing the papers across the coffee table.
“Now, if you’ll erase Ben’s contact information from your phone, please.” Becky waits expectantly as I stare at her, dumbfounded. “I know it seems harsh, but we can’t risk you getting in his ear right now. He needs to maintain his professional focus. Like I said, if he so chooses, he’ll contact you later.”
Numbly, I withdraw my phone and swipe to delete Ben’s phone number. Once I’ve done so, Becky returns the signed papers to her attaché case and pulls out a check.
“A parting gift for you. Ben wanted to apologize for the trouble he’s caused you. I took the liberty of hiring a car to take you home. It’s waiting outside when you’re ready.”
Then Becky stands, signaling the end to this uncomfortable, impromptu meeting.
And to my relationship.