For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) (46 page)

She caught me off guard, but in her eyes I saw Anne respected me. She knew I had successfully dug myself out of a hole and allowed someone else into my heart to help me. In some different capacity, Anne loved Rhys as much as I did because she’d seen me at my worst and knew he’d brought me back to my best.

“I love you, too,” I said.

Unlike Anne and James, Rhys and I hadn’t talked all weekend except through a few texts. He was busy at work and wanted me to savor Anne, and I had managed by enjoying the distraction she brought. I craved the sound of his voice though, and after she left, I went to his place just to lay in his bed for a bit. Had Anne not been there, I would have spent the whole weekend buried in his sheets and thinking of him. Without realizing the level of my exhaustion, I fell asleep for an hour and awoke to seven missed calls from Anne. She still had an hour before her flight, so I called back.

“Ellie, oh my god, where have you been?” she huffed out of breath.

“I’m at Rhys’. Did your flight get canceled? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… just…” she hesitated. “I have some bad news.”

“What is it? You’re freaking me out.”

“Well, I was buying some snacks, and I got distracted by celebrity magazines, you know I love them…”

Every word she said was far too slow so I aggressively said, “Spit it out, Anne!”

“It’s Rhys,” she whispered. “There’s a picture of him on at least five of them… with another woman.”

“Anne, that’s not funny,” I said, sitting up in his bed.

“I’m not joking, babe. It’s obviously him. He’s got his hand on her back, her ass, he’s kissing her in some,” she paused and then added, “It doesn’t look good.”

Bile rose in my throat and the moment moved in slow motion. Panic bred within me, multiplying into all these unspoken questions. I stood in place, raised my hand to my forehead and rubbed it to clear my thoughts. It suddenly felt too warm to be wearing his jacket; it felt tight even though it was huge on me. It had to be a mistake. I kept telling myself it had to be a misunderstanding.

“Ellie, are you there?” Anne said, reminding me that I was on the phone even though I was still holding it.

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Do you want me to cancel my flight? I can try to get a few more days off of work.”

“No, it’s fine.” I paused. “You’re sure it’s him? Those magazines lie all the time.”

“Ellie, you don’t know how badly I wish it wasn’t him.”

“Fuck, I have to go.”

“Are you okay?” she shouted.

“Go home. I’ll call you later.”

I rushed out of his house and practically ran to the nearest newsstand, having to see it for myself. The shelves confirmed what Anne told me, and spread across various covers was Rhys with some woman all over him. I still couldn’t believe it no matter how long I stared at them, no matter how many I purchased and took home to read in private. I laid them across the floor of my flat, scouring each article for details that would clue me in on how it happened.

As I obsessed over each image, I managed to cry, and scream, and throw the magazines across my apartment only to pick them back up and stare at them in tears. I also drank half a bottle of wine to try to calm myself, but it only fueled my emotions. Staring at the photos didn’t help either, because the longer I looked at his hand around her waist or his gleeful expression as he kissed her concealed face, the deeper the pit in my stomach became.

While I had been morosely missing him, Rhys had cheated on me and I felt the edges of my world slowly crumbling. I felt myself being pulled back into the grave I’d dug for myself. I felt alone again.

Anne called when she landed, but I didn’t answer, instead texting her that I needed time. She respected it, but texted back asking if I needed her to kill him for me.

Me: I haven’t talked to him yet. Don’t kill him.

The truth was I wanted to kill him. I wanted to call him and demand an explanation, but I wasn’t brave enough. I couldn’t comprehend how he could beg me for my heart months before, only to throw it in my face. It seemed so out of character for Rhys to cheat, yet I had always assumed it would happen; I’d always half-trusted him, supposing that life would hurt me again in the end.

He had seemed so brokenhearted during my visit, so incomplete without me, yet those photos didn’t give that impression at all. I assumed he’d been acting around me, that I’d been played a fool, because clearly we weren’t on the same page. I just couldn’t figure out why he had tricked me, when all I had done was love him.

I fell asleep in my own bed, sobbing before I dozed off, but I awoke in the middle of the night to his face on my phone and
Magic
by Coldplay playing loudly. I silenced it, and then deliberately pushed ignore so he would know I wasn’t sleeping. Even though I was angry, I couldn’t help looking at his gorgeous eyes on my screen in a picture I had taken of him laying in bed beside me. He looked so beautiful, and it only made me hate myself for falling in love with him. I both hated him and missed him, and when his face stopped blinking on my screen, I turned my phone off and set my alarm on the bedside clock.

I forced myself to go to work, though every step there and back had me uneasy to the verge of nausea. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, people who probably weren’t even looking at me made me feel uncomfortable. All I could think was
they all know
; they know I was idiotic enough to love him. Making eye contact with my students was dreadful, but thankfully none of them questioned me on it. It was still difficult to teach knowing that some of the girls probably knew and were most likely happy about it.

Opting to go home after class instead of my office, I emailed John explaining what had transpired and knew he would understand. If anyone knew how hard this was for me, it would be him. In some spark of curiosity and bravery, I turned on my phone when I got home and saw I had voicemails from James, each of my parents, Anne, John, and three from Rhys. I listened to all but his, texting them in appreciation for their concern, but that I wasn’t ready to talk yet. They recognized my need for silence and left me alone.

But after an hour of feeling the weight of my phone on the coffee table, temptation got the better of me and I ended up mistakenly listening to his messages. They were all from the night before.

“Darling, I think you hit ignore in your sleep. I just got home and miss you, but only two more weeks. I’ll call again in a few hours.”

“Hey, your phone’s going straight to voicemail which concerns me. Last time you were sick, hope you and Anne took it easy.”

“Ellie, I’ve called a few times but nothing’s going through. Please call me. I’m off today so I’ll be able to answer. Love you.”

He was acting as if he had no idea, as if I was an idiot that didn’t know he’d been with another woman. The only explanation was that he didn’t know he’d been caught on camera. I grew angry at his messages, and they filled me with melancholy because I still loved and missed him, even after the pictures were ingrained in my mind. In a moment of weakness, I texted him and then turned my phone off again.

Me: I really need you to leave me alone from this point forward.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Doubt thou that the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love. - Hamlet Act 2, Scene 2

I
n the days that followed, I found myself staring at Aaron’s picture nonstop. He would never have cheated on me; he hated cheaters. Once during high school, James had only flirted with a girl while dating another and Aaron shoved him into a lake in front of everyone at the party. We had only been together for three months, and I remember being shocked by his brash actions. On the way home Aaron explained that he never understood how someone could cheat, that if you didn’t want to be with a person, then you should break up with them first. Obviously it would still hurt, but at least you were respecting them enough to be honest.

I recalled that conversation frequently that week and wondered if my heart would hurt less had Rhys given me a heads-up. Probably not, it likely would have resembled the feeling that someone was gripping it too tightly and yanking it from my chest. I was numb, and so humiliated when I thought about it all. I had foolishly paraded him around at Thanksgiving, treating him like family, and he had done the same with me at Christmas, tempting me with a future and love that was clearly false. I had trusted someone that lied and played pretend for a living, and I was paying for it.

By Thursday afternoon John had finally caught me after class. He had been trying to reach me but I’d stealthily escaped to my apartment each day. He forced me to go over his house for dinner where he and Veronica tried comforting me. They respected that I didn’t want to talk about it, and offered me lots of wine since I didn’t have work the next day. Only when John walked me home did he ask, “Have you talked to him at all?”

“No, there’s nothing to say,” I said with tears in my eyes.

“You know I see you as a daughter, so I’m going to give you advice this once and then leave it alone.” He paused and gripped my arm. “Don’t you at least want to hear his side of the story? I’ve seen and known many young men in my courses and career, and I’ve never known any as genuine as him. I’ve also failed to see you as alive as you’ve been with him. I think you owe it to yourselves to hear him out at the very least.”

“He’s left me tons of messages on my phone.”

“Why don’t you start by listening to them?”

∞

I didn’t turn my phone on until the next morning. I wanted to hear the messages with a clear head and the wine had exhausted me. Because I’d cried so much over the last few days, I had been sleeping surprisingly well. But every night both Aaron and Rhys haunted me in dreams I couldn’t escape. That Friday morning I went for a run, feeling the bitter cold-like pinpricks across my skin and within my lungs, but it still felt better than my reality. Only after I showered and ate breakfast did I finally listen to his messages on speakerphone. The second his voice filled the emptiness of my apartment, my tears returned.

The first one showed his confusion. “Ellie, what’s going on? Why don’t you want to talk to me?”

Then the second one a few hours later, “Love, I just spoke to Noah. He told me what’s on the news. Please don’t believe it, I’m hoping you trust me more than that…that you know I wouldn’t.”

And then the last one, “Ellie, please call me back. You have to know this isn’t true. I love you, please call me back.”

That one hurt the most, only because he seemed unable to explain why this had happened, but I could still hear the sorrow in his voice. It seemed he was just as unhappy, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he had hurt me, or because he couldn’t get through to me since I’d found out. Part of me was tempted to call him, to find out what had happened, but then I remembered the images I couldn’t remove from my mind, and anger overpowered my sadness.

Looking through my phone I could see he tried calling other times without leaving messages, and that he had sent dozens of texts, begging me to call him or text him back. The last one made my heart ache significantly.

Rhys: I know this is hard; the distance, the magazine…but it isn’t what you think. Please don’t doubt me, don’t give up on me. I SWEAR I would never hurt you.

Curious to see what else he would say, I left my phone on after that. In some sick way I found satisfaction in his fighting for me. It made me respect him for trying even though he had betrayed me, and yet I still wanted him. I wasn’t sure if his fight was a lost cause or not, even though I doubted I could never be with him again. I left the apartment and left my phone behind, heading to Daunt books for distraction, only to retreat when I saw photographers outside my building. I couldn’t stay trapped forever, and Tuesday I had courses again, so I pushed through the door and the crowd and continued on my way. I ran them off after ignoring them for a few blocks.

Going to the bookstore wasn’t the smartest idea, because in their magazine section were newer tabloids that read
Trouble in Paradise
with photos of Rhys upset and pushing through similar crowds. He looked exhausted and angry, with deep bags under his eyes. But the one that killed me depicted me crying on the cover and read,
Rhys Dumped Over Dead Fianc
é
. I bought that one and I barely made it out of the store without sobbing. They had investigated Aaron, even had yearbook photos of him, and described his death and my move like some soap opera. It brought me to my lowest point and when I got home I called him.

I only called because I knew he would be on set and couldn’t answer. It was cowardly, but it was my sole opportunity to speak my piece while escaping unharmed by his false explanations.

“Rhys,” I whispered. “I don’t know why you did it, or why I ever thought it was a good idea to give you my heart. I guess you’re a good actor for a reason. You proved I was stupid enough to think I could actually be that lucky again. Thanks for the reality check, lesson learned.”

My words hurt me just as much as I knew they would hurt him, but I had to get them out. I had to let him know the level of disloyalty I’d been dealt. I thought sharing it would make me feel better, but it hadn’t. And I pathetically hoped he would call me after, beg me to hear him out, but he didn’t. That night my apartment was quieter than ever, and the next morning I awoke to one chime on my phone that proved he was hurt, but wasn’t quitting on me.