Page 37 of Nathan
Taking a fortifying breath, I spoke as if Lucille was the priest, and I was in a confession booth. “These past months have been hard for me. I’ve tried telling myself that the physical part of a relationship isn’t important and that Storm has enough virtues to make up for his lack of…” I scrunched up my face in an expression worthy of an Oscar. “I mean size and performance shouldn’t matter, but…” I covered my face with my hands and let my head fall forward. “I feel awful for admitting it.”
Lucille whispered a soft “It’s all right.”
Lowering my hands to the belt that came with my expensive designer dress, I looked at her. “People think that I cheated on Storm, but the truth is that we’ve been struggling from the beginning and that last week I asked for us to take a break.
“It’s not Storm’s fault. He’s never hit me or abused me. He’s a nice person, and I’m sure there are women who don’t care much about… ehm… the more intimate part of a relationship. Storm deserves to be appreciated in a way that I failed to do.
“I’ll admit that my meeting with Nathan this weekend took a turn I didn’t expect. We became friends earlier this year and reconnected when I went to Dublin to promoteThe Blue Doorknob. Nathan is Storm’s opposite, and out of nowhere, he awakened the most sensual part of me that I’ve had to suppress for months. I didn’t plan for the kiss to happen, but Nathan made me feel desired and alive again. Something that I’ve missed in my relationship with Storm. I’m sad that someone took a photo and shared it with the world. It was a private moment between two people sharing a mutual attraction, and obviously, I would have preferred to keep it to myself.”
What had started as payback at Storm suddenly made me emotional. My last sentence unleashed a raw pain that made me place my hand on my stomach. My love life had been public for as long as I could remember, and it made me sick. I would never have the privilege of making mistakes in private, and I couldn’t protect someone like Nathan from the scrutiny of the press. I could only imagine how much he regretted kissing me after seeing himself attacked in the media.
“I understand.” Lucille’s brow creased, and her lips drooped down in sympathy.
“It’s easy for people to forget that we’re real people who hurt as much as they do. To see someone you know attacked by the press for every mistake in their past is hard. I don’t blame people who have no interest in fame for running away as fast as they can.”
“Are you talking about Nathan Robertson?”
I blinked my moist eyes and gave a single nod. The pain was still there as a deep mourning that had found a way to the surface. It made me feel exhausted, and I slowed my speech. “I felt a connection to Nathan, or I wouldn’t have kissed him. At the same time, I can’t blame him for not wanting anything to do with my lifestyle. I have days where I wonder if it’s worth it myself.”
Lucille gaped at me. “Really?”
I slid down from the chair, feeling desperate to be alone. “That’s all I have to say. I’m afraid I’ll have to go now.”
Lucille used both her hands to shake mine. “Thank you. It was so nice to meet you. I had no idea things were that bad.” Lowering her voice, she whispered. “I get it. Sex matters.”
“It was nice to meet you, Lucille. Good luck with everything.”
“Can I hug you?” Lucille asked while still holding on to my hands.
“Yeah.”
She was smaller than me, just like my sister, and as Lucille hugged me, I closed my eyes and imagined that I was with Lola. It felt healing but lasted less than ten seconds before I pulled back and gave her a last smile.
Marie, who had been watching with a permanent frown on her face, intercepted me when I walked toward the door. “You still have five interviews left.”
“Give the journalists my apologies and tell them I’m feeling unwell.”
Marie followed me out into the hallway, all the way to the elevator. “What about tomorrow? What’s going on? You realize that what you said in there will only make the press go crazy with more headlines.”
She was right, and my short-lived satisfaction over giving Storm a bit of his own medicine suddenly felt childish and toxic.
“Marie, I’m sorry, but I think I need to take a break from all of this.” I stepped into the elevator.
“You can’t just leave. What about the rest of the press tour? We still have seven cities left.”
“You’ll have to ask one of the other actors to do them.”
“But you’re the star.”
The doors began closing as I looked into her worried eyes. “I’m sorry, Marie, but I mean it. I’m done!”
