He still isn't back by evening and I hate that I feel his absence way more than I should. Is this it? I'm falling faster and way deeper into this black hole and I can't seem to find a way to stop myself. I stare at my phone lying beside me uselessly and for the umpteenth time contemplate calling Alex. Would I seem clingy already? Needy? Does that even really matter now in the face of the situation at hand? I slide my screen open and meet so many notifications. Unwelcome headline from tabloids and hundreds of emails from reporters. It's been like this since morning and at this point, it's beginning to look unending. I skim through one of the emails. They are all asking for the same thing, just with a little verbal alterations. They want me to do an interview with them talking about Alex's personal life. They don't have to write it but it's pretty glaring that they are all hungry for some tea on Alex and Anita's marriage and what role I played in the divorce. I subconsciously open anoth
"Nicole, Nicole wake up!!!!". I feel his arms tighten around me and my eyes pop wide open, my breath coming out in shallow gasps. I take in large puffs of air as the shivers descend on me, racking my nerves with great effect. I feel so cold. I scuttle deeper into his body and he's readily behind me, willing to hold me through it all. It's almost like I can still feel him, my brother…. the monster from my dreams, his gnarly hands grazing over my skin in the most invasive places, his distorted voice calling out my name, drawing me closer to him. Another aggressive wave of shivers pass through me and I whimper miserably. Alex is balanced on one elbow, the other hand doing all the amazing job of holding me tight against him. The weight and warmth of his arm on my body like an anchor, slowly keeping me in check. I reach up and wrap my arms around his limb, desperately hopping that some of his warmth seeps into me. "Shhhh….. it's okay, sweetheart. It was just a bad dream. Shhhh…..". We
And finally it's time to go back home. As I wake up, I'm filled with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. As I begin packing up, I find myself faltering in certain moments, looking around to take in my surrounding for what might be the last time in a long time. Much against my will, I enjoyed New York. Okay maybe not New York, but this house. I sigh heavily and pull the zipper of my bag, shutting my luggage close. I hear the shuffle of feet outside and the sound of Alex's voice. I suspect he's on a call. I walk to the door and pry it open just a little bit to get a look at him, he's making his way down the stairs, absorbed in his call. I stare at his back longingly and the last of him disappears down the stairs, I shut the door quietly, letting my back lean against it. I sigh heavily and run my fingers through my hair in agitation. The truth is I don't want to face him. I don't want to look at his face and know that everything I've been stupidly imagining for us all this while will go
The seat is a comfortable settee, grey in colour and plush to sit on but that doesn't help at all with the unease I feel. Now that I'm here, in front of a whole media team, with the camera rolling in my face and their attentions fully on me, I finally begin to doubt if this was really the best course of action. Baxter on the other hand is suddenly repackaged into a three piece black suit that fits his frame perfectly. He's sat in front of me, giving a few last minute orders before the cameras officially start rolling in. When he's done, he turns to me and lightly grazes his palm over mine. I allow myself to look into his beautiful eyes. "Are you okay?". He asks. In this moment, it's quite easy to forget that he's just like every other person here, bloodsucking and information hungry. In this moment, he really makes me feel like I could pour out my mind to him and I can't even tell if that's really his personality or just an effect of the job. Regardless, I tell myself I can't let myse
I push up from the seat stiffly, my mouth set into a hard line. "Let's talk outside". I say coldly to Baxter who's still seated in front of me. He looks at me plainly but I don't even wait around for him. The media team are busy giving each other back pats when I push my way through them, expression cold and unwelcome. It's a good thing none of them has attempted to speak to me after the interview. I'm this close to losing it. I walk out of the studio room and out into the hallway and almost instantaneously, the door opens behind me and Baxter steps out too. "Let's go grab a coffee". He says. He turns to go but I don't have time to waste on him or his watery attempt of stalling. "I'd like to talk now". I say stiffly. He raises a brow at me and I'm just about to say something again when I hear a voice from behind me. "Miss Webster?". I stiffen. Slowly, I turn around to see Alex's driver. He's dressed in his usual suit uniform and he stares at me grimly. I swallow nervously, he's
Alex's eyes follow Baxter's car as he backs out of the hangar, his mouth set into a hard line of distaste. He's not happy at all. I stare up at him plainly, even though my heart races in my chest. What do I say to him now? When Baxter's car finally disappears, he turns to me and as hard as I try, it's impossible to read his eyes behind his sunglasses. "What have you done?". He whispers angrily. I don't know what I expected but honestly, I don't think any reaction of his would particularly surprise me now. This one doesn't either. I take in a deep breath and square my shoulders. "Let's talk on the flight". "Nicole….". I don't stand around to hear his words as I walk past him and towards the jet. The pilot waves at me respectfully and I force myself to offer him a stiff smile in return. I hear Alex back some orders at some people behind me but I don't turn to look as I make my way stiffly inside the aircraft. There's a smiley attendant on standby and she leads me to my seat respectf
I don't see Alex for the rest of the trip and I hate how much my heart yearns from him. More times than I can count, I'd startled awake when I heard footsteps, thinking it had to be him. It wasn't. It always turned out to be one attendant or the other. After an exhausting 6 hours, when we finally land in California, I'm damn well ready to be done with the trip. A sweater had been provided for me on the flight and I wrap it around myself protectively as I make my way down the jet. It's already evening here, the sky already darkening above us. Many steps below me, I finally catch sight of Alex as he issues some quick orders to some of the employees in uniform. I'm still staring at him when my luggage is taken from me and I'm led to a car on standby. When the driver opens the door for me, I sigh softly and glance back at where Alex is still standing. And finally, he looks at me. I hold his gaze all the way across and finally, he sighs and takes out his phone. I watch him punch in a text
I don't know how I make through the night but finally, it's morning. I push up from where I had fallen asleep on the floor of my sitting room. The first lights of dawn are just starting to sift through the window but otherwise, it's still pretty dark outside. I'm stiff from sitting all night but I push up regardless, my bones creaking in the process. It's disheartening that it's a Monday, this is not the kind of condition I like to approach a new week with. My hips are stiff but I make the best of what I can and hobble to my bedroom. When I get to the door, I sigh softly as I take in the scene that had been in a state of massacre just yesterday night. It's a surprise that nobody in the neighborhood had actually called the police on me. I would have thought the scream would have penetrated a fair amount of doors and walls. After the initial shock and despite my quavering nerves and wobbly legs, I had walked forward into the room and taken in the scene properly. The cat had been a ging