Page 119 of Tangled Up In You

“Where have you been, darlin’? It feels like it’s been ages, you know?” He spoke rapidly, his words almost running together as he failed to take a breath. “God, I missed you. Don’t leave me. You won’t leave me again, will you?”

There was laughter from the group at Gavin’s quick cadence, but it didn’t seem funny to Sophie. She cupped his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, even as they darted around the room. His pupils weren’t right. They had the same look she had seen in the eyes of certain models and other industry people.

“What have you been doing, baby?” she asked, her heart racing because she already knew the answer.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Don’t you worry. I got it all under control and I feel good for the first time in a long time,” he replied.

She hesitated, wanting to believe him. But then he rubbed hard at his nose and she knew with complete certainty that everything wasn’t “under control.”

“Gavin, no,” she said, and shook her head. “Don’t do that. It’ll only make things worse.”

“No, Sophie. The only thing making it worse is me doing nothing but thinking about it. I’ve been paralyzed by all this shite. I need a fucking release from it or I swear to God I’ll go mad,” he said, speaking rapidly. “I need an escape. I know it’s only temporary, I know that. But I feel so much fucking better right now, darlin’. I can’t begin to describe how good I feel now. Can’t you allow me that? Don’t you want me to feel good?”

“That’s not fair,” she said quietly, aware they had an audience. “You can’t ask me to say this is okay.”

“Sophie,” Jackson interrupted, “it really is pretty harmless. Don’t panic about it.”

She glared at him, now suspecting that he had danced with her as a distraction so that Gavin could get high on cocaine. Then she saw the large glass of wine he had set before her and she picked it up, taking several gulps to down it. She was furious and hurt and wanted to mirror Gavin’s recklessness in the only way she could. With an empty stomach, the alcohol went almost immediately to her head and she regretted her childish act of defiance.

“So? We okay?” Gavin asked, oblivious.

“Just tell me it’s a one-time thing. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course it is.” He took her hand and kissed it.

She looked at the two guys who had gotten him high. “You better take care of him,” she said as forcefully as she could, before turning on her heel and rushing to the nearest bathroom where the red wine came up.

As she sat on the cold tile floor of that small guest bathroom, she was shocked to think of what had happened. Gavin had experimented with cocaine—and other drugs—before, but it was obvious that he was playing with it in an entirely new way. She knew with a sinking certainty that him trying it now, amidst his depression and desperation, was exactly the wrong thing to do.

And for all intents and purposes, she had just given him permission.

71

SOPHIE

Sophie returned home from a day trip to Paris to an empty, dark house. She’d been meeting with her agent Henri to go over new bookings. After their week-long stay in Los Angeles, Gavin had declared that her “babysitting days” were over.

“You can go back to work now,” he said. “Really, there’s no need to worry about me.”

“I know you’ve been feeling … better, baby,” she said carefully, optimistically. The fact that he’d developed a taste for cocaine to offset his crushing depression had been obvious when he went out with Jackson the night after the party and stayed out all night. They hadn’t talked about it, though. She hadn’t wanted to confront him, hoping that this new pastime wouldn’t follow him home. “But,” she continued, “I think I’d like to spend some more time with you.”

“Really, Sophie,” he said and kept eye contact for a long moment. “I’m okay. And, truth be told, being on my own for a bit here and there is probably the best thing.”

“Oh,” she said quietly.

“Once you’re back on schedule with all your jobs, maybe I’ll come with you to a few of your shoots. How about that?”

She recognized his attempt to soften what he’d said, and it felt to her as forced as he had sounded.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Whatever you want.”

“Great. It’s settled.”

But there was a clear disconnect between his assurances of being fine and what she knew to be true. He wasn’t someone who was capable of casting aside the devastation he felt so easily. For him to try to convince her, of all people, that he could do such a thing was unsettling. He had never faked his thoughts and emotions with her before, and it left her feeling helpless.

That feeling was only amplified when she came home to a dark house without any sign of where he was. She texted him to say she was home but he didn’t call back for nearly two hours.

He spoke in a rush, everything coming out in one breath. “Darlin’, it’s me. Are you home? I thought you were staying the night in Paris. Weren’t you supposed to stay the night in Paris? Didn’t you say something about the Four Seasons?” he asked quickly, his voice rising above the background din.

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