The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (44 page)

I’m taken aback at her sudden laugh. Cupping her hand at her mouth and chin, she shakes her head in humorous bewilderment.

“What?” I demand, confused by her condescending stance. “Please tell me what you find so amusing.”

“I didn’t sleep with Ben.”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. “W-what?” I barely manage aloud, my puzzled awe overtaking me. “But you said . . . ”

“I said what? I never said anything.”

“You did,” I argue, recalling the uncomfortable stand-off in Alex’s kitchen. “Alex asked you . . . he asked if you were ever going to tell him. You said ‘no.’”

“I simply chose not to deny it,” she states matter-of-factly.

Tilting my head, I drop my shoulders in sarcastic disbelief, “I don’t believe you. Who would do that? That makes no sense.”

“This really is none of your business, but I’ll play along. My concern is for Alex, and if sharing this with you will help protect him . . . ”

“I’m listening,” I offer snidely, crossing my arms.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, she turns towards the sofa, taking a seat. Looking down at her folded hands in her lap, she begins, “I never told Alex the identity of the . . . other person to . . . protect him. I made a mistake and I wasn’t going to let it cause any hurt to Alex . . . ”

“You don’t think the fact that you actually cheated hurt him?” I cut her off, questioning the absurdity of her choice of words.

“Are you going to let me finish?” she questions, looking up at me.

Rolling my eyes, I shrug my shoulders above my crossed arms.

“What Alex doesn’t know helps keep the rest of the world from knowing. It’s as simple as that. If it became public, it would be a scandal. I couldn’t let that happen. So, when Alex accused me of cheating with Ben, I decided not to deny it. Whatever Ben said, or did, to make you think it was him—though, I was shocked, of course—it bridged a gap that needed to be filled. You did open a can of worms, Aby, but I don’t blame you for it. I just had to run with it.”

I shake my head in disbelief. Scandal? Does it really make a difference who she was with?
She’s lying.
“Why the hell didn’t Ben deny it?”

“So he didn’t actually say he was the one?”

“N-no,” I reply, my arms falling to my sides.
Oh my God! What have I done?
“I just thought . . . he alluded to it,” I ramble, running over the conversation in my head. Making my way to the sofa, I sit at the opposite end to avoid her. “He touched me. We argued. He said I wasn’t the first . . . I wouldn’t be the last.” I look towards her. “I just knew it must have been him . . . with you. He didn’t deny it. He actually smiled at the accusation . . . ”

“He wanted you to believe it,” she finally interrupts, holding my gaze. “It’s not all your fault. Ben and Alex, they have a wonderfully troubled relationship. Ben feels he sacrificed for Alex—despite the fact that he hasn’t worked a hard day for anything in his life. He’s jealous and wants everything Alex has. Add that to his drug dabbling . . . ”

My eyes bulge at her admission.

“Oh, shit. Aby, please pretend you didn’t hear that! I don’t even think Alex knows. The point is, Ben let you believe he was with me to stroke his ego.”

That twisted asshole!
I can’t believe this. This is all too much. “What kind of world do you fucking people live in?” My anger renewed, I stand to pace the room.
Jesus, Ben is using drugs . . .

“The real world, remember?” she stands as well, her voice filled with sarcasm.

“You don’t live in the real world,
Julia,
” I spit, lacing her name with disdain. “You, and people like Ben, are just a bunch of fucked up . . . assholes!”

“Then go home if you can’t handle it!” she screams back.

Glaring at each other, we stand in place, seemingly trapped by the ugly turn of events.

“You know what, I don’t believe a single word you’ve spewed since you walked in the door. You’re lying about sleeping with Ben—hell, I bet you even threw in that slip of the tongue comment about him using drugs to sway me.”

Releasing a sigh, she shakes her head. “Think what you like about me. My coming to see you was not meant to turn into all of
this
. . . ” her hands gesture the air around us. “And this is not about me, or you. It certainly doesn’t have anything to do with my feelings towards you—it’s not personal.”

I fold my arms in defiance.

“It simply boils down to timing. I can’t say that we would be having this conversation had you walked into Alex’s life five years ago, or even five years from now, but right here and now, you don’t fit into his world.”

“So you keep reminding me.”
Everyone keeps reminding
me, I wince at the repeated notion.

“Aby,” her tone is almost sympathetic, “ . . . why did you leave? Why did you come here?” She pauses, though not long enough for me to respond. “I think you were chasing some fairy tale.”

A pained silent admission crosses my face at the sudden truth of her words.

“You know what the irony is? You were probably already living in one. Go home, Aby.”

Her words crash down on me, joining forces with all of the recent events crumbling at my feet. I’m frozen in place and time as everyone flashes through my mind—Ben, Julia, Helena, Andrew . . . Alex.
He
is my fairy tale.

It was all too good to be true. Right out of one of my dreams. She’s right. They’re all right. But I can’t leave. “I can’t just
leave
. . . I can’t leave Alex. I can’t leave London. I have obligations. My job . . . this apartment . . . ”

“I can handle anything you need taken care of, Abigail.” The gentle pity in her voice burns through me. It’s as though she knows her point has been made. Quite clearly. And I’m sure she’s satisfied with my somewhat obvious submission to doubt, the doubt she intended to surface with her words.

At my continued silence, she turns to make her way towards the door. I do nothing to stop her, or even question her sudden departure. I simply watch her walk away.

“I can handle anything you need. I know you’ll do the right thing for Alex,” turning, she leaves me in awed silence, closing the door behind her.

DAMN YOU JULIA Cox. Damn you, and your fucked up world.
Rubbing my sore, bandaged knees, I put all of my negative energy after this morning’s events on the blonde bitch’s shoulders. She, after all, put it all out there in the universe, didn’t she? Doesn’t that make it all her fault that I arrived to work this morning to a mob of paparazzi waiting outside the building?

Breathe, Aby,
I remind myself—though holding my breath seems to hold back the fill of tears I’m fighting as my fairy-tale begins to unravel.

It didn’t faze the frenzied media hurdle to find me alone. As much as a new picture of Alex and his newly identified girlfriend would have been a prize, I
was enough to fill their plates for the day—countless flashing camera snaps of a deer caught in headlights. They know who I am, and their insatiable appetite for gossip lead them to finding me. At work, even.

I didn’t handle the situation well, to say the least. Claustrophobia set in when the mob of media surrounded me, pushing and pulling me with an invisible chord that left me scurrying toward the protective solace of Ashley-Fines. My panicked and uncoordinated retreat resulted in a graceless fall to the concrete sidewalk, my knees scraped and bleeding. An image for which the vultures gloried in, snapping pictures unremittingly.

Thomas stepped well above what is expected of a boss, suggesting I work from home before scurrying me out the back entrance and driving me to my flat. He was extremely understanding. His knowing expression as he dropped me off didn’t escape me—he did warn me of the price tag associated with dating Alex.
How long ago that seems now.

I need my best friend,
I pout, the realization that I can’t reach her finally giving way to my unshed tears. Curling into a ball, I sob silently.

Starling at the chirping of my phone, I wipe at my tear-stained cheeks, begrudgingly getting up to grab it. Oh God, it could be Alex.
I’m not ready to talk to him—via text or otherwise. The horrible, yet delicious thought of just falling into him when he returns tonight, the way I always do, causes the thickened flow of my tears.

I stammer at the unknown number before reading the text.

Subject: Alex

I do hope you’ve taken time to think about what we discussed. Please remember, I’m here to assist with anything you need. Think about Alex. Think about Liam.

Julia

“UGGHH!! You BITCH!” Throwing my phone at the wall, I fall to my knees, my legs giving out beneath me. “OUCH! . . . Humph, humph, humph . . . That hurts!” I rub at my bandages, my sobs heating with venomous rage as I take in my broken phone—its casing and battery spewed in all directions.

The fucking gall of that woman!
And the bitch broke my phone.

She’s making it very clear that she has no intentions of leaving me alone. I’ve barely had time to digest her words from yesterday. Let alone try to grasp my own feelings on all of this. Whatever
this
is . . .

The irony of the returned unknown, so much more than it was in the beginning, is almost comical. I burst out in hysterical amusement. Through my frenzied laugh-cry I recall the last time I thought about what
this
is, the newness of my relationship with Alex. Was it going to be just a fling with a sexy famous actor? Could something more become of it?
Ha!
Oh, it’s more alright. It’s more than I could ever have prepared for. And it has absolutely nothing to do with what Alex may or may not want.

“Aby? Are you okay?”

I quickly glance towards the front door.
Shit. Andrew.
Attempting to dry my tears, I look up into his concerned face.

“Are you okay? I heard a loud bang against the . . . ” he stops mid-sentence at the sight of my scattered phone. “I’m sorry, I knocked, the door was unlocked . . . You’ve been crying. What’s wrong?”

“What hasn’t gone wrong? That’s a better question.”

“Uh-oh. What can I do?”

“Well, for starters you can pour me another glass of wine,” I feign a twisted, unsuccessful smile.

“How many have you had?” he grabs the bottle from the coffee table, holding it up to inspect the contents.

“Not enough.” I brace myself, pushing up from the floor.

His head drops to the side, his eyes urging me to be more specific.

“Just one, but I’m pretty sure I plan on making my way to a second bottle before the end of the day,” I flop onto the sofa.

“That bad, huh?” He refills my empty glass.

“Ohhh yeah.” Smiling as he passes it to me, I take an immediate gulp. “So, this morning I felt like a cow being corralled off to slaughter,” I begin as he takes a seat. “I received a crash course introduction to the paparazzi. Literally—incessant camera flashes reminiscent of a cattle prod, urging me in the opposite direction before I tripped,” I pull up my knees to highlight the result. “Helena Adelaide seemed to enjoy my dilemma—that stunning octopus. I may as well throw her under the bus with cat-woman. She’s ruining everything. Well, her and Bene-dick Arnold. The Three Musketeers. They’re evil,” I squint my eyes. “Nothing like the do-gooders they’re written to be—nope, in my story, they’re the Wicked Witch times three, all slithering around my prince, constantly reminding me that I don’t belong . . . ”

“Whoa, just so I’m clear here, Ben is the dick that was here earlier this week?”

I nod.

“Helena?”

“The former occasional bang. Oh, and my co-worker.”

“O-okay,” he looks confused. “And cat-woman?”

“Publicist ex-girlfriend, Julia-sucks-Cox who happened to cheat on him with dick.”

Nodding, his face is contorted in confusion.
What’s doesn’t he get?

“Anyway, she had the gumption to show up here and, one—lie to me about not sleeping with dick, going as far as to suggest that dick is on drugs with wanna-be issues. And two—tells me that I don’t live in the real world, that I should do what’s best for Alex and go home.” I shake my head at it all. “Is this fucked up world really what I was missing? This is my
more?
Sex, drugs and lies. My God, it’s such a cliché, isn’t it?” I look towards him.

He opens his mouth to speak, pausing with it agape, his heavy brows crushing his baffled gaze.

I decide to continue on, “So, assuming the bitch isn’t lying, of course, I have another boatload of omissions—a.k.a. lies—to keep from Alex. What am I going to say to him?” I turn to Andrew again, not waiting for an answer—despite his repeat gaping attempt to speak. “Can I keep her visit, and all of its gory details from him? Or, do I ruin yet another of his relationships? What happened to my fairy-tale?”

Staring down at the floor, a few moments pass in silence. I don’t look to Andrew for any answers. I know there aren’t any.

“My inner dreamer is dying a little inside. How could I be so naïve,” I turn towards him, heavy tears breaking free to trail down my cheeks. “You were right, I should have left the rose-coloured glasses at home.”

He offers a warm, supportive pull of his lips.

I feel like such a fool.
Even he knew I was walking blind into my new life. “To think that a fling with Alex was even an issue. Whether or not he would want more doesn’t really matter does it? I don’t fit in his world. That’s what matters. At least to all those that surround him. And maybe they’re all right.”