“Fine. Two and a half weeks. Just until the bigWandererspremiere. And then I’m gone. You can’t change my mind.” The words hang in the air between us.
His stance, always so straight, so cocky, is bowed. I barely recognize him.
I’ve imagined this day for years now. I imagined it every time Sebastian asked the impossible, like when he had me throw a party for two hundred of his closest friends at the most popular club in the world on a day’s notice.
I thought I’d be red-hot angry. That my words would shoot out like bullets. And Iamangry. But I’m also sad. So damn sad.
“Goodbye, Sebastian,” I say, almost gently.
And then I grab my purse and walk out of the mansion. There’s no door slam, as I always imagined. No theatrics. Just a soft click.
And for the first time, I didn’t ask him if he needed anything else before I left.
Because I’m finally leaving, whether he needs anything or not.
CHAPTER 10
Sebastian
After Emma walks out,I struggle to breathe. I walk to the patio, taking in deep gusts of the cool early morning air until I feel steadier.
All I can think is, “Emma can’t leave. She’s the one who stays.”
Other people leave all the time, and I let them.
My parents fly in and out of my life, dropping in just long enough to share their dysfunction. When they finally go, I’m mostly relieved.
And then there’s the entire concept of filming a movie, which is based around coming together in the most intense way possible, creating a different kind of codependent family for a few months before disbanding forever, everyone moving on to the next project. I’m used to it now. In many ways, I relish the ever-changing variety.
It wasn’t always that way. When I was new to the industry, that cycle devastated me. It’s embarrassing how needy I was when I was a kid. It’s no wonder child stars are so fucked up.Adulation from strangers rains down. If you aren’t careful, you can drown in it. I almost did. But at the same time, I hoarded every drop of proper care, genuine affection like water in a desert.
Eventually, I grew up.
People move in and out of my life. The hangers-on leave when favors stop and the party ends. Even real friends get busy and move on. It’s normal.
Except it didn’t feel like that when Emma said those two words that realigned my world.
I can’t imagine a day without her.
“What are you doing out here?” Allegra’s voice carries to me on the wind.
I turn to see my beautiful… What is she to me? Girlfriend isn’t right. We’ve never clarified exactly what we are, beyond two people who conveniently play a role in each other’s lives.
“How did you get my passcode?” I ask her bluntly. “I never gave it to you.” I’d been too distracted to ask her earlier. But now I want to know.
“I watched you punch it in last week,” she says. “I thought it would come in handy one day. To surprise you. Most men enjoy finding a beautiful woman waiting for them in their bed.” She smiles winningly. “It’s sweet you’ve been so respectful and that we’ve taken things slow, but it’s way past time, don’t you think?” She tilts her head and caresses the top of her bra peeking out from her low-cut dress, reminding me of what I’ve been missing.
When I don’t react, don’t reach out for her, uncertainty flashes over her face, just for a second, and I feel like the worst kind of ass.
That’s the problem. I’m not missing anything. I feel even more alone, empty, when I’m with Allegra than when I’m by myself. She doesn’t gentle my worst tendencies or call me on myshit. She doesn’t inspire me to be the best version of myself. The version of me who’s… content… to just be.
Allegra prefers to see and be seen. She wants to hit every party. She says we look amazing together, and we should flaunt it. Tells me it’ll be good for our careers. We just have nothing to say to each other outside of industry gossip and work talk. She doesn’t make me laugh. And I don’t make her either.
Like my party friends, it’s all transactional. She wants the illusion. My fame and contacts. I’ve had many iterations. The tabloids have named me child star, teen heartthrob, bad boy of Hollywood, and now, leading man. I’m all of them and none of them. They’re just broken reflections in a funhouse mirror.
Not that I blame Allegra.
I don’t know who I am either.
