Jess stops halfway through a sip, the hot liquid against her top lip. Her eyes. She holds the mug in her hands for a few seconds before leaning across and putting it on the coffee table. ‘Didn’t you know?’
‘Know what?’
When Jess doesn’t reply immediately, I probe further. ‘Jess, what do you mean, when he asked Mimi to stop paying him?’
She looks towards the door, probably scanning whether Luc is coming downstairs to interrupt the secret sharing session. She bites on the corner of her lip, her teeth scraping the edges of any dry skin after her summer cold.
‘I really thought you knew, Sienna. I thought Mimi had told you, if not Luc himself.’
‘How much?’ I snap and immediately regret it. Jess and I don’t snap at each other – it was one of the rules and terms of our agreement to work with each other. We wouldn’t let anything get in the way of us being us, us being the best of friends since her tooth fell out in primary school and she showed it to me, a tiny white speck on the palm of her hand. ‘Sorry,’ I apologise.
‘It’s okay.’ She reaches over and rubs her thumb over the back of my hand, and I want to snatch it away, I want to run. Everyone has been keeping things from me, taking me for a fool, this entire time.
‘When Mimi asked– first proposed the arrangement to Luc,’ Jess starts. ‘She offered him payment to compensate for the time he’d be spending in what she then thought of as “work”.’ Jess takes a deep breath. ‘I was never directly involved in these discussions and only found out about the payment after he had already requested the payments to stop coming, but I don’t know how long he was paid for.’ Jess shakes her head. ‘I presumed Mimi went over all the details of the arrangements and, for that, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed. I’ll– I should’ve checked.’
I shake my head, and a tear silently slips over my waterline.I don’t dry it. I let it race another drop of water from the other eye to the bottom of my face, the coldness burning against the heat of my emotions.
‘I think– to the best of my knowledge, when Mimi reached out to Luc regarding the rel– arrangement, he had not long been told he was about to lose his job.’
‘The only reason he said yes was because he was… being paid for it?’
‘I didn’t say that. And I can’t answer that. Only Luc can answer that.’
My lip wobbles and I think about the man upstairs, lying face down in my pillows. How I woke up to his leg hooked over mine to keep me from moving far. The way he fell asleep last night with his little finger pressed against my upper thigh because it was too hot to cuddle but he couldn’t sleep without some contact with my body.
The man who has gone out of his way to plan surprise after surprise after surprise, who only wants me to be able to live the life I want, however that looks.
And just to think this whole time I was worried about the possibility of him using me to gain fame and interest around his screenplay. About him being too understanding.
I am a fucking fool.
‘Honestly, Sienna, I think his heart is in the right place. When he realised he– what things were going to be with you, he told Mimi to stop paying him.’
‘When was that, though?’ I throw my hands up weakly. ‘Was it last night? After I flew him to Tuscany? After the first time we kissed in private, when there was no ulterior motive of us being seen “dating”?’
‘You can only ask him, Sienna.’
‘I don’t want to hear it. I want him to leave.’
There’s a shuffling down the stairs, and Luc appears in the doorway. Jess shakes her head subtly.
‘Sie, can we talk, please?’ Luc asks.
I face him, but I can’t look him in the eye. ‘Sure, I’ll talk. Did Mimi pay you for our arrangement.’
‘Well, initially, yes. But–’
‘Get out,’ I snap, turning back to Jess.
‘Sienna.’ Luc’s voice is strained, caught in his throat.
‘Please, Luc. I don’t want to argue with you. I need you to leave.’ My voice is a whisper, a shadow of the contentment I felt this morning. I hear him slipping last night’s shoes onto his feet, zipping up a bag or maybe a jacket? The door closes behind him with a gentle click.
And then he’s gone.
I am nothing if not stubborn. And for the next few days, I do not cave. I don’t respond to any of Luc’s messages. I leave them mostly unread. I don’t open them to avoid feeling that heavy sting of betrayal in my diaphragm. I try to forget everything he’s done. I change my lock screen photo. I push him out like I did all those years ago, like I’ve done to everyone else who has tried to get close since.
But it’s different this time.
