“I don’t know if I have that courage.”
“Look deeper, Lex.” His voice was low and rough. “You do.”
“My own father didn’t believe in me.”
“And he was a damned fool. He was wrong.” He squeezed my hands so hard it hurt. “I fucking believe in you more than I’ve ever believed in anyone or anything, Lex.”
“I don’t deserve that.”
“Not for you to decide. I decide that.”
“You decide what I deserve?”
He laughed. “No—I decide what I feel for you, and how you feel about how I feel is irrelevant.” He sucked in a slow deep breath, let it out. “I accepted the end of us—the end of whatever us there could have been—when I put that video out there. I did it for you, because I believe in you and because I love you.”
I rocked backward. “I…I can’t. I can’t handle this.”
I shot out of the booth and bolted for the suite in the back. Shut and locked the door, and sobbed—out of sheer, overwhelmed confusion, if nothing else.
The plane landed, and I didn’t leave the cabin. Couldn’t.
Hours passed and what did I do in those hours?
Cry? Rage? Sleep?
No, I drank.
I escaped the only way I knew.
One bottle of wine.
Two.
I lost track after that.
The room spun around me, and I fell off the bed at some point. Hated myself for being this weak.
But it was too much.
I loved him.
He loved me.
But he didn’t know my secret.
And now—now the whole world wanted me.
Wanted my music.
Almost a hundred million people had watched me in my most vulnerable, intimate state, singing a lullaby I’d written for myself, to help me deal with unimaginable pain. That pain was on display, raw and real.
For the whole world to see.
I wanted to sing.
I wanted to let Myles love me.
I just didn’t know how.
And no matter how much wine I drank, I couldn’t drown that out.
Waking up was a slow, painful process. My tongue was a wooden stick glued to the roof of my mouth, which was filled with sand that was on fire. Someone had put my skull in a vise, poured molten lava into my brain cavity, and was using my temple as an anvil. My stomach felt like a vat of boiling acid.
I hurt.
I also stank—I could smell my own body odor, a rank jumble of smells emanating from my mouth, armpits, and vag.
I heard seagulls, and that was wrong somehow, but the lava-drum that was my brain was far from operational, and I couldn’t figure out why I was hearing seagulls in the distance.
I also heard waves crashing, and tried to put two and two together. We must be in Oslo or somewhere near the water.
The world was swaying. Back, forth…back, forth. Lulling. Soothing.
And nauseating.
Suddenly my stomach was heaving and I was gonna hork.
I grunted, trying to at least roll over instead of vomiting on myself. I managed to flop sideways, and the swaying worsened, as if I was on a boat.
“Oops, don’t fall out.” A voice. Male. Deep. Familiar. A voice that somehow meant hugs and kisses and snuggles and comfort. “Here, I got you.”
“Puke.” It was all I could manage, and my voice sounded like a raven with a sore throat.
I heard movement, felt a hand at the back of my neck, holding my hair aside. Something touched my forehead, the rim of a bucket or something…just in time. Out came the hot filthy acidic flood, my stomach twisting itself inside out. Grit, bile, liquid guilt and shame.
“There you go. Get it all out.”
I thought I was done and tried to breathe. Got a breath, and then my stomach churned, twisted, and it started all over again in a gushing bitter stink.
After a few moments without any more vomiting, I heard a bottle cap twist and felt something pressed to my lips.
“Here. Water. Sip it, rinse and spit.” I knew him. Brain wouldn’t offer up a name, not even my own, but I knew him. Trusted him.
I tried to obey, but swishing was beyond my abilities, and it spurted out of my mouth. I heard a male chuckle. “Babe, you are still so fucked up.” A towel touched my mouth, chin, throat. “There. Now try again.”
I did, and managed to rinse my mouth and spit it out. I took a sip, and then more, and then more. Then the bottle of water was pulled away. “Best take it slow until you see how it sits.”
“Uuuurrrgggghh, god, I feel awful.”
“Yeah, I bet you do, but you’ll be all right. I’m here.”
Somehow, hearing that soothed me. If he was here, I’d be all right. I wanted to cry, from everything, but I couldn’t. Staying awake impossible.
I woke again, and felt a little better, I felt less tired and my stomach was more settled.
“Gonna puke again?” I heard him say.
I shook my head. “Don’t…don’t think so.”
“Hey, you can actually talk. We’re gettin’ somewhere.”
“What happened? How much did I drink? Jesus.”
“I found two empty wine bottles, and my bottle of Johnnie Blue was significantly less full. So, a fuckin’ lot.”
“Shit. I don’t even remember the whiskey.”
I felt his hand on my head, affectionate, checking my temperature. “I was worried you were gonna have to see a doctor. You had alcohol poisoning, for sure. Thank god it wasn’t lethal, but it definitely did a
