Love, Chloe (40 page)

The New York wind sucked the front door shut with a loud slam that announced my presence. I winced at the sound, but neither man moved, their eyes locked.

“Where’s Nicole?” I whispered to the maid.

“In bed.”

“Does she know about this?” I watched Paulo attempt to push Clarke away, his struggle against solid muscle worthless.

“No.” The answer was a hushed whisper and almost lost in the loud crash. I’d heard that sound before. The sound of expense and turned to see Paulo bent backward over the foyer table, the glass centerpiece—one that replaced my broken one—now in a thousand pieces on the marble floor, Paulo’s hands frantic as he attempted to hold off Clarke.

“I’m going to tell you a final time,” Clarke threatened, “and then you’re going to get the hell out of my house. Stay away from my wife.”

“Easy.” Paulo’s squeak was embarrassingly feminine, and I didn’t move, as fascinated by this train wreck as I was horrified. “I just wanted to tell you it wasn’t mine. I got snipped five years ago. I just thought you’d want to know. And she and I—we’re done. We’ve been done. She broke it off when she found out about the baby.”

Clarke shoved off the man, Paulo’s body rolling to the side, his arms failing to catch his fall, his knees landing in the crystal and he wheezed out a cry. Clarke stepped another pace back, his breath hard, emotions barely controlled, his hands on his hips as if he were resting from a sprint.

I needed to go upstairs. None of this was my business. It was too personal, the emotion on Clarke’s face too raw, for me to witness. Yet, my feet couldn’t move, my eyes watching as Paulo made it to his feet, carefully limping toward the door.

“We still have to film,” Paulo said. “Just a few press things. Shouldn’t take but a day or two per week.”

“That’s fine.” Clarke spat out. “I’ll be there with her.”

“Seriously,” Paulo said, shuffling the last step to the door. “We’re through. I just thought you’d like to know.”

Clarke said nothing and the scrawny man made his exit, my attempt to sneak by thwarted by a loud crunch of crystal underfoot. Clarke’s eyes met mine and my heart sank at the sadness there.

“I’m sorry.” I said, my shoulders falling. “I wanted to tell you. I just…” I swallowed. “I just kept hoping she would.”

His jaw tightened and he glanced upstairs, to their bedroom. “I wish she had.”

“Why are you still with her?” The question I’d sat on for so long jumped, uninvited, off my tongue. I stumbled after it. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business—”

“It’s fine.” He interrupted me. “It’s a valid question.” He tilted his head at me, considering his words. “Nicole … there’s a part of her that’s broken. But that doesn’t mean that she isn’t worthy of being loved. Everyone is worthy of that. And, for some reason or another, my heart chose her.” He shrugged, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the broken crystal. “Another woman would have been easier to live with, to love. But another woman wasn’t in my cards. Nicole was.” He looked at me. “Do you understand?”

I sort of did. Unfortunately, when I looked at Carter and myself, there were certainly some parallels—consistencies that put me squarely in Nicole’s role. Part of me was broken. I had a hundred pieces I was trying to fix. And there were certainly other women Carter could have picked, ones that would be easier to deal with. I looked back up at Clarke.

“I do.” I stepped toward the staircase. “I’ve got to talk to Nicole.”

“Leaving us?” There was a wisdom in his eyes that I couldn’t lie to.

“Yeah.”

“Good for you.” He smiled and I relaxed a little. He was such a good man. He really was. I think the reason I fell so quickly for Carter was because I saw Clarke in him. Both of them solid and steady. Both of them trustworthy and loyal. Both of them so far removed from the superficial world that Nicole and I lived in.

I nodded a goodbye and took the first step, my climb up the giant staircase increasing in speed the higher I got.

Quitting. One chapter in this crazy journey, finally coming to an end.

I ducked when she threw the pillow, her face red, lungs already hoarse from screaming. I watched it bounce off the dresser, and Chanel instantly growled, pouncing on it with excitement, her ferocious playfulness taking any air out of Nicole’s hissy fit.

“I’ll work a final two weeks,” I offered. “I’ll train a replacement—”

“You scheming bitch!” she hollered, looking for a new pillow, and I eased to the door before she made her way to the alarm clock. One good thing about quitting now—her immobility gave me a degree of safety. Looking at the rage on her face … if she could get up and strangle me, I think she would have.

“So … you want me to leave now?” I reached for the knob.

“Fuck you!” she seethed.

“I’ll leave everything in the office, with instructions—”

“Stick them up your penniless ass!” Her groping hands found the remote, and I didn’t move fast enough, it catching me in the shoulder and stinging like a bitch.

I swallowed any parting niceties and darted out the door, Chanel quick on my heels, both of us hightailing it down the stairs. I was almost glad for her fury. No guilt from a final sniffling memory of Nicole begging me to stay. On the downside, I was pretty sure, scooping Chanel up in my arms and kissing her goodbye, that my chance of a recommendation letter was toast.

I waved at the maid, the crystal pieces almost fully gone, and gently set Chanel down, all but skipping out the front door. I wanted to jump up and down when I hit the sidewalk. Wanted to grab the closest stranger and shake them with joy. I was actually FREE. Free of that woman and her drama. A taxi turned down their street, and I flagged it down, glancing at my watch as I hurried to the curb and opened the door.

Chirping out a hello to the impassive driver, I gave him the address to the
BLL
set and settled back in the seat.

I did feel sorry for her unborn child. I felt sorry for Chanel, hated pulling away and knowing that she was still stuck there, in her puppy booties and designer dog sunglasses. The taxi turned a corner, and I thought of Clarke, the tension in his shoulders, the sorrow on his face. It looked like he and Nicole would make it through this. Especially with the baby coming. Clarke would be a great father. And maybe the birth would change Nicole for the better. I was just glad I wouldn’t have anything to do with any of it.

Warm sun came through the window, and I pushed any lingering thoughts of Nicole out of my mind. I smiled like a crazy person, and pulled my sunglasses out of my bag, pushing them on. Unemployment, so far, felt
great
.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. We can’t let you in.”

I stopped, mid-text to Carter, and looked up at Fred. Dear sweet Fred, who shared his banana bread with me when I got grouchy. Dear sweet Fred, who had stepped
out
of the security shack and now stood in front of me. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Mrs. Brantley called. Said to take you off the list.”

“I have a purse in her trailer. That’s all I’m here for.”
And… maybe one last order of cheese biscuits from the catering truck.
“Five minutes,” I pleaded. “Maybe ten.”

He shook his head at me and I wished for the old days. When I could just pull out a hundred and buy the ability to break some rules. “Escort me,” I offered. “You can handcuff me to your side if you want. I know you’ve been dying to use those cuffs.” I gave him my best smile and saw him weaken slightly.

“Well…” He glanced toward the shack.

“Five minutes,” I repeated. “Just straight to Nicole’s trailer and back.”

And that was how I ended up handcuffed to an eighty-year-old man.

Just kidding. He didn’t use the handcuffs. And he was more like mid-sixties, but that doesn’t have near the storytelling punch. He shuffled toward Nicole’s trailer, and I trailed behind him, texting Hannah, hoping to get a goodbye in before I left.

I opened the upper cabinet and moved a bag of chips aside, tugging on the edge of the black bag until it fell out. There. Just as beautiful as the day I left it. I clutched it to my chest and turned to Fred. “One last stop,” I said. “Joey Plazen’s trailer. I just have to drop this off there.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s been ten minutes already, Chloe.”

Ten minutes because he walked slower than death. I could have hit both trailers
and
gotten cheese biscuits in the time it had taken us to walk here.

“It’s on the way back. Two doors down.” I jumped up and down a little and gave my best doe eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbled, and I swooped out the door ahead of him.

“Shut the fuck up.” Hannah stood at the counter in Joey’s trailer and gawked at the bag. “You’re
giving
this to me?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “I know. I’m amazing.”

“Seriously?” She ran a tattooed hand over the front of it.

“You quit?” Joey asked the question for the third time and I finally turned to him.

“Yes. And yes,” I said to Hannah. “Seriously.”

“Why?” he asked, standing from the couch and walking over, the kitchen in his trailer too small for the three of us. Fred coughed from the open doorway, and we all glanced his way.

“Umm… ” he said tentatively. “Miss Madison…”

“I’m not allowed on set,” I said, filling in the others. “Fred wants me out.”

“Here.” Joey pulled out his wallet and shuffled through some bills, pulling out a handful and holding them out to Fred. “I’ll watch the klepto. Make sure she leaves straight from here.”

“With a stop at the catering truck,” I chimed in, giving Joey a hopeful smile.

“No,” he said. “No catering truck.”

“What the F?” I stomped my foot, mostly for dramatic effect. “Why?”

“I’m not shuttling your ass around the set while you complete your shopping list.”

“So … I can go?” Fred asked, stuffing Joey’s cash in his pocket.

“Yeah,” Joey said, and Fred nodded his goodbyes, the door creaking shut behind him.

Joey waited until he was gone, then nodded at me. “Talk.”

“Yeah, Nicole was having an
affair
?” Hannah perched on the counter and unzipped the bag, peering inside and checking out the inner pockets. “And she’s pregnant?”