Heartbreak.
Because the last time I laid eyes on Josh Lander in the flesh, I waswithhim. And watching him walk through that door, as big and golden and fucking gorgeous as ever, and seeing the uncertainty and fear in his eyes, hurt. It really fucking hurt.
I thought we were so good together.
I got him so wrong.
And that spectacular error of judgement has haunted me for the past five years.
But as I formulate my response to the girls, which will include an admission of most of the above, I’ll keep something close to my heart. Because if they knew, they’d bollock me. Or worse, they’d be really concerned about me.
Because the biggest revelation I’ve had today, sitting next to Josh Lander for three hours in total, was thatI’ve missed him.
There was so much anger and outrage and bitterness after he dumped me, and Mara and I both worked so hard on damage control and on fashioning my new reputation as a solo actor and not as one half of a celebrity couple, that it sometimes felt I wasn’t allowed to grieve.
I had to be dignified.
I had to be strong.
I had to be a good role model.
I couldn’t be a weepy, heartbroken mess, either in public or in private.
But I’ve missed him so fucking much. And it’s such a massive, physical relief to see him, to be in the same orbit as him.
Even if I hate him.
Even if he did something unforgivable.
And I’m deeply ashamed of feeling this way. So ashamed I have no intention of unpacking this revelation just yet. I’ll keep it safely bundled away until I’m feeling stronger, and until then, I won’t give Josh Lander an inch.
My therapist will have a lot to say about that.
JOSH
I sit on the sofa in my beautiful apartment in Notting Hill. It’s in a gorgeous period building, and the living room looks out onto a private park out back. The apartment is on a road called Elgin Crescent, and apparently the communal park is the exact one where they filmedNotting Hillthe movie. It looks forlorn at this time of year, so I haven’t made it out there yet. But it should be the perfect place to relax when spring comes.
I’m not gonna lie; I’m a little overwhelmed after today. Seeing Elle was a major deal. Doing my first read in front of the cast with my shiny new British accent was a major deal. So the two things together have pretty much finished me off.
The temptation to have a drink—a whisky, or even just a beer to take the edge off—is all-consuming. What I wouldn’t give to feel that scorching heat down my throat as the liquor hits me. My mouth waters just thinking about it. But I have no liquor in the apartment for exactly this reason. I checked in with my British sponsor as soon as I got back this evening, but the thing that stops me from hitting up some whisky on Uber Eats is the thought of Elle.
If I give in, I’ll be the pathetic loser she thinks I am.
If I give in, I won’t stop till I’ve drunk the bottle, and I’ll sleep like shit and show up tomorrow smelling of alcohol andlooking like shit. And not only will I not let her see me like that, but I won’t do that to her.
Tomorrow, we have our first dance rehearsal together.
Tomorrow, I get to touch her.
It strikes me for the millionth time that I never let Elle see me high or wasted when we were together, and although I did that because I cared so much about her, it probably made it harder for her to guess at my motives for cutting our ties. I’m sure she heard on the grapevine I went to rehab after I sent that tweet, and I’m sure it puzzled her. Because the Josh Lander she knew wasn’t a user. I kept the ugliest parts of myself hidden from her. I was so careful. But it probably made it all worse.
I’ve typed out the twelve steps from Narcotics Anonymous and put them all over the apartment. I substituted the wordGodforthe universe, because I am definitely not a God type of guy. There’s a copy right above my fridge, just in case I’m tempted to fall. I read it as I grab a bottle of cold Pellegrino and drink.
The bubbles don’t help, but the twelve steps do.
Particularly Step Nine.
Step Eight is listing all the people we’ve harmed and becoming willing to make amends with them all. That’s fine. I’m there. I’m willing.
