Page 98 of Off Script
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 apaparazzo 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 movieLosing Loveyesterday, 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?
