I Belong With . . . (Book 2)

Chapter Two / The Begining of the End

That was the end of that conversation. I didn’t give him time to talk; I got up and ran to the bedroom, making sure to lock the door as I fell to the ground. My arms wrapped around my shoulders as I dug my head into my knees, letting the tears fall freely again—the sobs leaving my chest aching as the pain shot through every nerve.

I didn’t know which hurt more anymore; it just felt like my whole world had just descended into hell. 

I didn’t sleep, every time I closed my eyes, I could see those photos, and I could hear Chris’s words play on repeat. At times it felt like the shame would be enough to stop my heart from beating, and honestly, right now, that was all I wanted. 

When the tears had finally stopped, I forced myself up and walked out to see Chris sprawled out on the sofa, ultimately passed out. 

Just looking at him hurt. 

I walked towards the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee, taking a seat at the large glass table. I pulled my leg up on the chair against my chest and reached for my phone, taking a deep breath.  

Should I check? Was that really the best thing? Probably not. But I can’t help myself, the new lines would pop up. Eventually, there was no way in hell I could ignore them forever, so I might as well rip the bandaid off now. 

I took a sip of coffee and let my fingers breeze across the screen, typing in my name. 

That was all it took. 

The minute the results popped up, I threw my phone halfway across the table, feeling my chest sting as I bit down on my lip, trying to keep the burning tears from falling. If I started again, I don’t know when I’d be able to stop.

Chris groaned his protest at the loud crash of it hitting the table as he rolled over, his arms slapping at the top of the sofa as he yanked himself up.

“Ugh, what the hell happened?” He groaned as another hand slapped at his forehead, rubbing his temples before slowly standing. His face scrunched up in pain as he stumbled towards the glass table like nothing had happened the night before. I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of anger boiling just below the surface until his eyes opened again and took me in.

Within seconds his hand dropped to his side as his eyes widened with the memories that were rushing back to him. His skin looked like it had just dropped three or four tones in colour and my whole body shrunk under his gaze.

I knew how he felt about everything; yesterday spoke volumes. And now? Now all I think when he looks at me is shame. The sparks his eyes alone would trigger were nowhere to be found. 

“Fay. . . “

“It’s fine,” I mumbled, taking another quick sip of my coffee.

“No. It’s not, I didn’t-“

“Please, Chris.” I forced out, my throat aching suddenly as my voice broke. I could feel the tears prick the corner of my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to look at him. “Not today.”

“We have to talk,” he said softly, his footsteps sounding closer as he fell into the chair next to me. His hand reached out to take mine, and the minute I felt his cool fingers against my clammy skin, I yanked my hand away, dropping it under the table. 

It was like his touch was acid now; any contact would burn. It would burn far too deep, and I can’t take any more disgust. I don’t know how much I could wash off without ripping my skin from the bone or if I ever would. 

“We will. Just not today.” I could feel the hurt slap across his face as he shifted back. “Besides, I need to pack.”

I took another long sip of my coffee, enjoying the slight burn as it travelled down my throat. Any type of distraction was better than the constant mind degrading acid that I was getting used to pouring over myself since last night. The silence that broke around us was beginning to get tense, awkward as I settled my mug back on the table, unable to look him in the eyes. 

How long would that last?

Just as Chris leaned forwards again to talk, a loud knock rasped through the apartment and just like before, we both jumped, swirling our heads to look at the door. 

“Jose,” Chris groaned, annoyed as he stood from the table and marched towards the front door.

That really was the last thing I needed, but it was no surprise. Whenever anything went wrong, he was always there and lately, and it seemed like every day was a constant roulette of what could go wrong with Jose standing by with every solution he could muster up. 

“Nice lip,” Jose greeted sarcastically as he wandered past him and towards me. His eyes surprisingly didn’t narrow at disgust the way they always seemed to before. No, instead, they shone brighter and far wider than I can ever remember seeing them. His lips weren’t pulled uncomfortably into a half-smile but instead uncomfortably yanked into a stern line as if he was struggling to keep the smile away. “Right. So it’s no guess we have one of the biggest scandals of your career up to date-“

Really? Because I can think of at least two more prominent scandals, Chris has been involved in, in the past. Besides, my nudes were mine . . . not his. It could never hurt him the same way.

“But with some magic, we’ll figure out a way to get you back on track. Smarten up your image again.” Jose finished, his eyes landing back on me. “As for you, avoid any interviews and do not speak to anyone in the media. Keep your head low, both of you. That’s the golden rule. Do not address the issue unless you’ve been given a specifically designed script written by me.” 

“But-“ both their eyes flew straight at me as if I wasn’t involved in this conversation. Jose looked taken off guard and finally a little more pissed off than he had been when he strolled in. “But isn’t that the worst thing we could do? What Could I do? Shouldn’t I address what happened. . .I mean . . . its more common than-“

“You are not like everyone else.” He snapped, taking a few more steps closer to the table and letting his palms slam down on it. “You’ll be eaten alive. They hated you already, this? This is fuel for the fire. You come out and speak, and they’ll finish whatever is left of you and Chris. Understand?”

His words drove a cold steak through my heart, my whole body falling in a numbing pain that words can’t describe. It felt like the world had turned completely dark, and the streets were littered with predators whose sole purpose was hunting me down. How did the world get so scary overnight? A mere few hours ago, it felt like it was made for me, like the world had finally opened up and wrapped itself around me lovingly. Now? Pff, now it was hell-bent on murder. 

“What about the photos?” Chris asked, his arms crossing over her chest as his eyes narrowed at Jose. 

Jose’s eyes lingered on me a little longer; his eyes slowly but subtly fell down to my chest before a hint of grin slapped across his face. Just as quickly as it came, he slapped that it away as he turned to face Chris with all the seriousness in the world. 

That’s when I felt it again, the embarrassment, the full-fledged force of shame as his eyes drank me in in those few seconds. He’d seen them; he’d seen me. 

“Give me another twenty-four hours, and they’ll be taken down. I have guys working on it already. We’ll play the grounds of distributing child p*********y considering she was underage when the photos were taken.” Chris nodded in response, but for me, it wasn’t enough. If you searched hard enough, long enough, they’d pop up. Nothing was truly deleted on the internet, and my photos were no different. “Once we know who responsible, we’ll take it from there. You,” Again, his voice boomed at me, his lips still hiding his satisfaction but his eyes screaming it instead. “It’s best if you stay away from any and all media. There’s no good to be gained from reading them.”

With a quick nod, I swallowed the hundredth lump of the day and shakily stood, clearing my throat. “I’ll go pack.”

“Sure,” Chris muttered as I hurried across the kitchen towards the bedroom, ignoring their continued conversation about the next course of action for the journalist Chris attacked last night.

The minute the bedroom door closed, I let my eyes fall shut as a small whimper escaped my lips. This was a mess, and I was a mess. The only thing that rang through me was the crippling urge to make it all stop. How was I supposed to face the world? When would it all stop?

I forced my eyes open, the tears already staining my cheeks as I wiped feverously at my skin. No. 

I raced towards the bed and yanked my suitcase from underneath the mattress, shaking my head as I refused to let my brain list all the ways I had failed. All the ways, I was a disgrace. All the ways Chris hated me. The fact the whole goddamn world had seen my breasts. It made my skin crawl in so many ways. All I wanted to do was rip my own skin off. 

NO!

I ran across the room frantically, throwing my clothes into the bag before racing into the bathroom behind me and grabbing everything from there. I wanted there to be no trace of me. 

That is honestly all I could wish for.

But that was never going to happen. Not now. 

I didn’t think twice, just the idea of going back out there while Jose was still here was too much, and before I knew it, I was packing Chris’s case too. Not that that was so unusual; whenever he did it, he always forgot something, so I ended up taking it upon myself to pack it for him. Beat me getting so wound up at how much money he foolishly was spending because of it. But this time, it was different; something in me didn’t really care anymore. 

But still. It was better than facing Jose. 

This time, I let it drag out, moving slowly across the bedroom and looking through drawers an extra two times until eventually there was nothing left but to zip his bag. Just as my fingers brushed the zipper, the bedroom door slowly opened, and Chris stepped in, his eyes still hovering between me and the floor. 

“Jose’s gone.” I nodded, turning my attention back to the bag. “Can we talk now?”

“I don’t really want to.”

“I know.”

“No. No, you don’t.” I mumbled, feeling that ache roar to life in my chest as my eyes burned with tears. “It’s not you who’s plastered all over the media naked.”

But it is you who regrets being married to me. 

At this point, I honestly didn’t know which was worse. 

“Fay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry about that and about what I said.” I couldn’t help the small chuckle that filtered past my lips as a sarcastic smile spread across my lips. “What?”

“You’re sorry you said it,” I repeated, zipping up the back and standing to face him. “Not that you didn’t mean it.”

“I was drunk.”

“You know what they say about alcohol,” I muttered, looking away from him, my smile weaker now as the pain scorched through my skin. It was making it harder to breathe again; it was making everything just so much harder. “It’s a good truth serum.” 

“Fay-“

“Don’t. You’re allowed your feelings; you shouldn’t be punished for having them just-“ I cut off, my throat aching as I took a few seconds to gather myself. “Just don’t force me to talk about it when you can barely look at me.”

I grabbed my case and walked by him, my shoulder pushing past him, but before I could make it clear of him, his hand shot out, his fingers curling around my forearm and forcing me to turn back around, almost bashing into his chest. His eyes peered down at me, that perfect cloud of brown chocolate intensely holding me again like they did the day before everything. His other hand tipped my chin upwards as his thumb rubbed my bottom lip. 

“I’m looking at you right now,” he said, his eyes still demanding my every attention. For a few moments, I didn’t feel any of that pain; I didn’t feel the shame, and my skin didn’t crawl. For those few moments, I felt okay. He made it alright. “I’m sorry. I reacted badly; I don’t know how to respond to this. I lost my s**t, but I love you, Fay. That hasn’t changed.”

I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. Something in me suddenly struggles to believe it. That was an issue I never had before with Chris but now. . . I struggled to believe anything. 

His lips pressed against mine for a second before walking into the bedroom to grab his own case.

The whole way to his jet and we were shrouded in silence. We’d managed to sneak out through a back entrance, and from the moment the car doors shut, Chris was engrossed in his phone. He usually saved that for later in the evening, car rides were spent talking, but this time it was spent in silence. 

I guess he was checking up on the news headlines, probably checking in on Jose’s progress even though they’d be sharing the flight together. 

Just the thought that that was what had stolen his attention had me glancing out the window blinking back tears again as my chest tightened. 

Although I was grateful that the security guards kept their eyes far from mine. 

Everything screamed; this was the end. We’d opened a whole new chapter I never saw coming, and somehow we were at the beginning of the end. 

And I was absolutely terrified. 

Losing Chris was one thing, but losing him and having this follow me around forever? How was I supposed to keep that up all alone?

I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to keep the tears from falling as I reached for my phone in my jacket; I hadn’t checked it since I’d thrown it across the table. Over 36 missed calls. Five from my sister, twenty-six from my mum. Oh god, mum. What was she going to say? The last five were from my dad, and that one had a cold shiver rushing down my spine.

Things between dad and me were strange since the divorce, but that didn’t change the fact his opinion had the power to tare me down entirely with one swift word. 

I knew I couldn’t ignore him forever, but I could for now. 

I kept my eyes firmly glued to the ground as we hurried towards the jet, the airport surprisingly empty from any cameras. I settled down at the back, ignoring the main meeting section. This time I knew I was welcomed. I was important to them in all this, and somehow I just wasn’t up to hearing how much my nudes were a f**k up for Chris. I don’t think I could take any more of that crap from Jose or any of his other advisers. 

Chris paused at his seat, his concerned eyes finding mine further down the plane. I gave him a weak nod and pushed my earphones into my ears as he took a chair, and the chatter of everyone’s opinion on the best route for damage control took over. 

By the time we landed, I’d spent most of the journey crying myself to sleep, slouching down the chair to hideaway. 

Chris hovered above me, stroking my cheek until my eyes fluttered open. “Are we here?”

“Yeah, we’re here.” He whispered, his eyes looking a little glazed and his lips in a wavering smile. “What’s wrong?” I asked, yawning as he helped me up. His hand fell into mine as he leads me out of the plane, ignoring my question. 

I was about to ask again when the night sky took my voice. That familiar crisp smell in the air was catching me off guard. Instead of green grass and large buildings, I was met with Palm trees and a steady stream of common crickets. “Where are we?”

“Spain.” That took me off guard. My eyes flickered to Chris. We hadn’t been back to Spain since it happened. 

“Why? I thought-“

“If we’d gone back to England, we would have been met with the press. This was the best way to keep our heads down. Jose suggested it, thought it would give us more time to lay low.”

“By going to live with your family?” Cause that really didn’t make sense. 

“No. We’re not staying with them.” That had me silent. Since when? Something felt off. “It’s my villa, and my family don’t know we’re here yet.”

Okay, that was definitely odd, but I left it. 

Instead, I sat in the passenger’s side of his Bentley and stared out the window quietly, just like I had been doing since this whole mess started. He was acting weird. All of this was weird, but there was nothing I could do about it, but I couldn’t help it, I wonder what else Jose’s suggested.