Page 128 of Tangled Up In You

But he had spoken at the same time, saying, “Got to go. Take care.”

Before she could reply, he’d ended the call.

The runway showsin London and Milan were a success, even though Sophie did her job in a daze. She missed her husband and she missed her home. And she found herself wishing she could step back to the time when she and Gavin had an unbreakable connection.

The connection they had now was mostly through their cell phone voicemail. He rarely answered her calls or texts and when he did, he invariably sounded irritated, as if she were interrupting.

But he had promised to join her this afternoon for the last two days of Paris shows. They would then stay in the city a few more days. The prospect of dedicated time together filled her with unwarranted optimism as she walked into the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel George V. This was the hotel she always stayed in, and its marble floors and columns and grand crystal chandeliers were elegant and reassuring. Her eye was drawn almost immediately to Conor sitting in one of the plush gold and cream brocade chairs of the formal lobby. Even if she hadn’t known it was him, he was the kind of strikingly handsome man who turned heads. Though she was surprised to see him there, she was even more surprised that he did not greet her with his usual bright smile and kiss as he stood.

“Hi, Conor,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I’m so fucking upset with you, Sophie,” he replied, his voice low but tight with anger.

She took a step backward and looked around. The lobby was half-filled with others she could call upon if needed. She hadn’t in all these years experienced Conor’s anger and the force of it alarmed her.

He grabbed her arm before she could move farther away. “I’m going out of my mind trying to understand why you didn’t tell me Gavin’s a fucking coke addict.”

“Let me go,” she said, struggling with his tight grip.

“No, you’re going to stay right here and tell me what’s happening with my best mate. See, I went home to Dublin, got the runaround from him, and then when I did see him, he’s high as a fucking kite and offering to get me the same. And from what I’ve heard, this has been going on for months.”

“I’m not going to tell you again to let me go,” she said, her voice raised enough to be noticed by others.

He became aware of what he had been doing and quickly released her. “Don’t you get it, Sophie? Don’t you understand how bad this is?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“And you’re fucking facilitating him? He said you were fine with it. How could you be so goddamned stupid?”

“I didn’t know what to do. I wanted so much to believe it wouldn’t control him. He keeps saying it’s harmless,” she said quickly. “And I’ve been reading that William Styron book you gave me. You know, the one that talks about ‘incomplete mourning’ and how when someone isn’t able to have the catharsis of grief, he’s bound to suffer from rage and guilt, which could lead to self-destructive acts. And so maybe Gavin’s just acting out and?—”

“Stop this enabling shit right now.”

“But you know he needs to mourn?—”

“He can’t mourn someone who isn’t fucking dead. Goddamn it, what are you doing trying to justify this for him?”

She looked down and the tears that had been brimming in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. “I’m not trying to justify it for him. I’m trying to justify it to myself,” she said, and covered her face with her hands.

“Oh, honey.” He pulled her into his arms and rocked her slowly, his anger seeming to dissipate as she fell apart.

“I just want to believe he’ll find his way out of this,” she mumbled into his neck.

“Shh, now.”

As he held her, she slowly regained a sense of calm. She took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. What she saw made her pull abruptly away from him.

Gavin stood fifteen feet away, watching them. His expression was hard to read. It wasn’t anger or jealousy. It was closer to curiosity, as if he couldn’t comprehend the sight of his wife in his best friend’s embrace.

“Gavin,” she said, and Conor turned to see what she had.

She quickly went to her husband and hugged him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, trying not to fall into tears again.

He must have heard the shakiness in her voice and decided not to go down the predictable route of demanding to know what had been happening, because he told her, “I’ve missed you something desperate, darlin’.”

Then he looked over Sophie’s shoulder and eyed Conor. “And you’re here. Why?” he asked.

“Don’t be paranoid, Gav. I came to see Colette. But I ran into your fragile wife first thing,” Conor replied.

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