Keep Her Safe, page 5
“No shit.” My lips flatten. “How long?” I ask the one question that’s been eating at me since I saw his dick thrust inside of her and his quiet hesitation has me wanting to throw up. “Are you kidding me?”
“Shay…”
“We talked about the future. We talked about what our future would look like when LA Dreams was over and the whole time you were fucking another woman?”
“Not the…whole time.”
“ARE YOU ARGUING SEMANTICS?” I scream and immediately I ball my hands into a fist digging my fingernails into my palm to try and quell the rage building inside of me. There is a dull roar in the lounge but if I keep getting louder, I’m sure they’ll be able to hear me. I notice Damian looking over his shoulder before turning around to face the room again. “You and I are done. Do you understand me? Done.”
He lets out a sigh and rubs his forehead. “You and I both know it’s not that easy. Your PR team already talked to my team and they want us to stay together. And I want that too.” He reaches for my hand and I snatch it back.
“Stay together while you keep fucking her and whoever the fuck else? Pass.”
“I’m not going to be sleeping with anyone anymore. It wasn’t…she doesn’t mean anything.”
Anymore. That word is a bitter pill because it means he’s only stopping because he got caught. Not because he’s worried about hurting me. Just his reputation. “That’s all you have to say? She doesn’t mean anything? That means I should put up with this?”
“Shay, I’m sorry. We hadn’t seen each other in a while and—”
I put a hand up silencing him. “You can get the entire fuck out of here with that. We’ve been together three years and you threw it away for what? Because you needed your dick sucked? My God, you’re pathetic.” I snort. He threw us away for a fling? I was half expecting him to tell me they’d been hooking up for months. That he was in love with her or she was in love with him. That there were feelings. But for nothing? He risked us for nothing? Is that all I meant to him?
I can tell I’ve struck a nerve with my insult because he narrows his gaze at me and I raise an eyebrow daring him to test me. “I want to know how long you’ve been cheating on me.”
He lets out a breath. “I want to be with you. None of them meant anything, Shay.”
The word slices through me and I take a step back. “Them?”
He lowers his head shamefully, unable to meet my eyes. “Yeah.”
Rage begins to build again, causing my heart to race. “You want to be with me while you sleep with half of Hollywood? Are you crazy? How many? And how fucking long, Paxton? I’m not going to ask you again.”
“I don’t know.”
I feel like a masochist. I know the answers will only hurt me, and yet I’m desperate for them. I want to know how many and when and how and why. “You don’t know how many women you’ve cheated on me with?” The tears are building from deep within but there’s a zero percent chance I’ll let him watch me shed even one.
He shakes his head. “No.”
“That…many?” I shake my head and he forces his hands into his pocket and looks over his shoulder towards Damian, probably a little worried that if my bodyguard hears him, he might actually do him physical harm.
How had he flown under the radar for so long? My God, who knows how many of his team members knew and helped him hide it. Humiliation washes over me that so many of them know and yet constantly smile at me and hug me and tell me how cute Paxton and I are together. He turned me into a fucking joke.
“The whole time?” I ask.
“No. Not the whole time.” He clears his throat. “Last year things just…changed.”
Last year, he’d blown up. More roles, more opportunities, more women probably throwing their panties at him and sliding into his DMs with their phone numbers and explanations as to what their mouths do. His career had changed overnight and evidently, I’m the last to know that it also changed how he saw our relationship. The sound of a cheer from the lounge reminds me that we are not completely alone and I don’t want to delve deeper into this conversation.
I’m not sure if I want to go home or stay and get drunk with my friends but I know for a fact I’m done talking to Paxton.
“Listen to me very carefully.” I take a step closer and although he towers over me, I know I’m the one with all the power. “I don’t care if they want us to smile and pose for pictures and wave for a few months until they release some bullshit press release that we’ve grown apart but we’ll always be friends and wish nothing but the best for each other blah blah blah, fine. I’ll play along for now because of what that could mean for my career. But we are done. Don’t call me. Don’t text me when you’re horny or lonely because those women don’t know shit about you and you can’t be yourself with them. Don’t call me to ask me which pants go better with what shirt or when you can’t figure out what tie matches best. Don’t call me when you need someone to vent about your father and how he doesn’t approve of your lifestyle choices. Don’t call me bitching about your agent or that you feel like you can’t trust anyone in your circle. You could trust me, by the way, but you already knew that.” I shake my head at him. “When we are in public, don’t attempt to kiss me or touch me in any way other than platonically. You and I are through. And I swear on my parents’ graves if you don’t play by my rules on this, you will wish you never met me.”
He lets out a sigh and nods. “Okay. Shay I—”
I hold up a hand. “There’s nothing left for you to say here. I loved you and cared about you and only wanted the best things for you. I was always in your fucking corner. You destroyed us for this?” I narrow my eyes at him hoping he can see the disdain in them. “I hope it was all worth it.”
I turn on my heel to walk towards the bathroom I know to be tucked back here and push my way into the room and into a stall, grateful that it’s empty. It gives me a second to get myself together. I’m glad I had the oversight to grab my clutch before I left the table because it means I have my phone with me.
I bypass the text from Veronica and one from Jeremy, both asking me if I’m okay, and open the text message thread I have with my parents. My parents were always the first people I told when something happened. Whether it was good or bad, this text thread housed all of my big moments.
Even after five years, for the moment just after I would press send, I can imagine they’re here and I’ll receive their response. My mother would always reply with a bunch of emojis and exclamation marks and my father with a perfectly constructed text with correct punctuation. Both of them excited for me in their own ways.
It has been a while since I texted this thread, as most of my big moments had been going to Paxton or sometimes Veronica. I stare at the last message I sent which was a screenshot of the rumor that I might be nominated for an Emmy this year followed by about twenty exclamation marks because I am truly my mother’s daughter.
Me: Hi.
Me: I wish you were here.
Me: I miss having people I can trust wholeheartedly.
Me: Sometimes, I just feel so alone.
My phone vibrates with one of the alerts I have set up for myself and the picture I’d just taken with Paxton flashes across my screen and then another and another followed by the headlines “Trouble in Paradise?” and some terrible puns about us being a “dreamy couple” as a play on the title of my television show.
The feelings of being betrayed by the man I loved and being betrayed by the universe for taking my parents from me way too soon overwhelm me. Coupled with the alcohol I consumed tonight, the familiar tingle of tears build in my throat, and before I can stop it, one slides down my face.
Fuck.
I try to stop but a second one falls and then a third and soon I’m having the breakdown I’ve been avoiding for the past two weeks in the private bathroom of Rush. I wipe my face just as more form and spill down my cheeks.
Me: I’m ready to go.
Damian: Whenever you’re ready. I’m outside of the restroom.
Me: I can’t stop crying.
The bubbles that show he’s typing appear and then disappear instantly and then I hear the sound of the door opening. I assume it’s Damian but I hold my breath in case it’s not. I let it out when I hear, “It’s me.” His rich baritone floods my ears and I unlock the door and open it to find him standing in front of the stall.
His eyes are soft and empathetic and it spurs more tears. “He…he…” I stamp my foot. “FOR A YEAR!” I yell.
His nostrils flare angrily and he starts to say something but stops himself. He looks away from me and his eyes slowly close before turning back to me. “We are leaving.” His tone is even and calming and just those three words have my heart rate slowing. You’re fine, you’re okay. You’re with Damian and he would never let anything bad happen.
“What about Veronica?” The tears have slowed and I’m able to blink the ones forming out of my eyes as I wipe under them to collect the ones that have fallen.
He takes a step to the side to let me exit the stall. “Max is here, she’ll be fine. And you are my only concern.” His words send goosebumps all over my flesh. They make me feel safe and guarded and the thought that he’d never let anyone get to me overpowers the feelings of my now ex-boyfriend who’d just made me feel anything but safe.
I stop walking, unsure of what’s on the other side of the bathroom door. “Is anyone in the hall?”
“No and you are not going back to the table. We are just going to go out the back and no one is going to see you.”
I turn around and look up at him. “Did Paxton leave?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Once I saw you come in here, I followed you. I couldn’t really give a fuck what he did as long as he was away from you.”
I nod and take another deep breath. “Thank you.”
He moves to walk in front of me. “Why are you thanking me?” he asks without turning around to look at me.
“I—” Because you’re here? Because you can protect me from anything? Because you’re the only person I feel like I can trust?
“This is my job, Shay,” he says before I can finish and I snap my lips shut before alcohol and my emotions convince me to say anything else.
The ride home is quiet. I ignored all the phone calls from Veronica and Jeremy but texted them to let them know I was fine and that I would see Veronica whenever she got back. Veronica wanted to come home immediately but I told her to enjoy her time and that I was going to bed because honestly, I’m not in the mood to rehash it with her. Now, I’m sitting in the back alone, staring out the window while the faint sounds of Rihanna play through the speaker.
My mind recalls all of the good times I had with Paxton and it’s really not the time for that so I try to recall the bad ones instead. The times we’d argued or the times he’d promised to show up for me but didn’t. Unfortunately for me, right now, there weren’t many occasions where Paxton was a shitty boyfriend. Screwing everyone and their mother behind my back aside, he had been a good boyfriend to my face. Somehow, and I’m not sure why, but that makes me feel fucking worse.
The fact that on the surface it seemed like he was the perfect boyfriend makes me feel like I did something. Like this was my fault or I hadn’t been a good girlfriend.
I pick up my phone to scroll through social media to see the pictures of us that were posted and anything being said. My personal life is a shitshow, but I hope the entire world doesn’t know that. My door opens just as I pass the tenth picture of us from tonight and I make my way out of the car to follow Damian up the path to my door.
“Do you want to know what happened?” I ask as he lets us in.
He turns to face me. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Okay. If I end up killing him, that makes you somewhat culpable, you know.”
A smile tugs at my lips at his joke. “Cute.”
“That wasn’t a joke. I am allowed to kill for you.” I follow him down the foyer towards my kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” I tell him as I move to my bar and grab one of the bottles of whiskey. “What are the chances you’ll have one with me?” I cock my head to the side. I’ve never known Damian to drink in all the time I’ve known him. I’d asked him a few times here and there and he said he didn’t drink alcohol while he was on the job. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s not the only reason I refrain from drinking, Shay.”
“No one is getting in either! Veronica will probably show up in a few hours but she has her own code to get in the gate.” He gives me a look like he’s thinking it over but needs more convincing. “Please.” I pout. “I don’t want to drink alone and I just had my heart broken tonight.”
He narrows his gaze and moves towards me, removing the bottle from my hand. “Tonight?” I can hear the question in his voice. Didn’t you have your heart broken when you walked in on him in Canada two weeks ago?
“Oh yes, I learned quite a lot tonight. Turns out there’s much more to the story.”
He pulls two highball glasses from my cabinet and puts a few ice cubes in each. A thought hits me as I prepare to tell him what I learned tonight. Damian is perceptive. He misses nothing. Had he…? “You don’t miss anything.” I bite down on my bottom lip as he pours the amber liquid into my glass and slides it across the counter.
“Okay?”
“You’re perceptive in ways that I’m not. You can read…everything.” He blinks a few times as if to say, and? “Did you know?”
He looks down at the empty glass in front of him, refusing to meet my eyes. “Know what?”
I huff because I know he knows what I’m asking. “That he was cheating on me, Damian. Cheating on me with god knows how many women for a fucking year?!” He doesn’t respond.
“Answer me and don’t lie to me.”
He pours himself a glass and fills it much higher than he did mine. The liquid is almost to the brim. He looks down at it for a long beat like he regrets pouring such a full glass before his blue eyes meet mine. “I didn’t know.”
“I’m sensing a but…”
He takes a long sip of his drink before he speaks. “I never thought he was good enough for you,” he tells me. “There were times he looked at you and I sensed his mind was somewhere else. There’s a look in a man’s eyes when he truly loves the woman he’s looking at, and…I didn’t see that when he looked at you.”
My mouth drops open. “What! How could you say—” I start when he holds his hand up.
“To be fair, there’s a look a woman has when she’s truly in love and you didn’t have it either.”
“Excuse me?”
“You cared about Paxton and probably even loved him, but…you wouldn’t have married him.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Instincts.”
“And you couldn’t have told me this…a long time ago?”
“I can’t force my thoughts on you. You have to figure things like this out for yourself. But believe me, I didn’t know he was cheating on you.” He cocks his head to the side. “I promise.”
“A year, he told me. He’s fucked countless women over the past year. He couldn’t even give me an exact number.”
“Asshole,” he grits out.
I hold my glass up. “Cheers to that,” I scoff before taking a long sip. “Probably cheated on me with supermodels and A-list movie stars and pop stars and women so much prettier than me.” I move off the stool towards one of my living rooms that’s just off the kitchen and drop to the couch sliding my four-inch heels off in the process. Damian follows and sits in the adjacent loveseat.
“You can’t possibly think that.”
I lean my head against the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling as defeat washes over me. “Oh, I do.”
“Who’s prettier than you?” I lift my head slowly and look at Damian and can’t stop the heat from shooting up my body and rushing to my cheeks.
“You’re sweet.” I smile.
“Shay, he’s an idiot and he knows it. You are…perfect.”
He’s never said anything remotely like that to me before and I briefly wonder if it’s brought on by the alcohol that he never consumes around me. My cheeks are still hot and a tingling feeling dances up my bare legs. I cross one leg over another and it draws his attention to them. I watch as his eyes trace up my legs quickly and suddenly, I’m hyper-aware of how short my dress is. I’m still covered, but I need to be mindful of how I shift while I’m seated.
I don’t know how to respond to his comment, but something he said earlier intrigues me. “How do you know what a woman looks like when she’s in love? You said I didn’t look at him a certain way.”
He takes a sip of his drink and leans back in his chair, his large body making the loveseat seem much smaller than usual. He spreads his legs slightly and the movement draws my attention to his groin, but I look away instantly. “I was in a relationship,” he starts. “Years ago.”
This is the first we’ve ever really talked about his past. I don’t really know much about Damian other than what was in his background checks and the little pieces of information he’s given me over the years. For the most part, he’s a mystery to me. The idea of learning something new is as intoxicating as the drink in front of me. I nod wanting him to go on.
He shrugs. “It didn’t work out.”
I blink. That’s it? “Well obviously.” I giggle. “I think I would know if you had a girlfriend or a wife after five years. What happened? How long were you together?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” A smirk pulls at his lips and my eyes drop to them, tracing them like he’d just done to my legs. I’ve always had a thing for a man with a nice smile, nice lips, facial hair, and if he has a dimple, I’m a goner. Damian doesn’t have dimples but a man that has three out of four is still sexy as hell in my book.
I raise my eyebrows as if to say, well then?
“We were together for three years and…it was just tough. Being with someone when this,” he says pointing back and forth between us, “is what I do.” He swallows. “She loved me and she probably would have stayed but I wasn’t being fair to her. She wanted kids and I didn’t.”
