replied, and her friends murmured in agreement.
Phillip’s amused voice rang out in the darkness. “Excuse
me, ladies, but would you mind if we had some time alone?”
The collective gasps made Steph chuckle. After much
giggling and apologies for “talking dirty about him,” what
ensued was a persistent request for photos.
“Ladies, please. I’ll tell you what. If Stephanie agrees to
take a real picture of us together, will you give us some
privacy?” Phillip moved between the fans and Stephanie, and she
felt relieved.
“You’re not back together, are you?” one of them demand-
ed incredulously.
“No,” Steph snapped, pulling out her camera and adjusting
the settings by heart. She doubted they’d leave when she was
done, but she was willing to give it a shot.
Phillip moved over next to the foursome. Steph took four
pictures of them. Phillip painstakingly put all four of their email addresses into his phone, swearing up and down to email each of
them the photos and assuring them he would tweet and post them
on Facebook. Steph had no doubt it would be done.
To her surprise, the girls wandered off after pecks on the
cheek (all photographed with cell phones). Soon they were alone
with the moon and the sound of the surf.
“I really don’t miss all that,” she muttered, and when she
turned in his direction, he reached out and offered her his hand.
She hesitated, afraid of the physical reaction she’d had to him the last time he’d touched her and also the lack of control she had
had in its wake. By the light of the moon, she could see his
worried eyes and realized he was in a wildly different place than he’d been in a couple of days before.
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“Please?” he asked, and Steph caved, taking his hand. He
led her further down the beach away from the partiers. When
they’d walked as far as they could, he stopped, and they both sat down in the sand.
“Tell me how you know she was a girl.” His request was
unexpected. She shot him a look, but he was looking out over the sea. Steph exhaled and launched into a quick and basic
explanation. How she had no idea she was pregnant until after
the surgery, about her father’s hurried decision to have the baby tested for genetic issues and what the doctor had told her about her future fertility after losing one fallopian tube. She explained the follow-up phone call she had received in France when she
learned that she was STD free (‘Mazel Tov, by the way’) and
that the baby had been a flawless girl, but merely had no room to grow. She left out her psychotic daydreams about the little
blonde girl, Jonquil. Steph wanted to keep her all to herself. She might tell him one day, in a letter perhaps, but he didn’t need her craziness interfering with his grief process.
Phillip said nothing for so long that Steph almost forgot he
was there as she indulged her little Jonquil fantasy. She imagined sitting on the swing with her at the fort and watching Phillip toss her high into the air. She’d often imagined Phillip carrying
Jonquil around, shielding her tiny blonde head from the papa-
razzi’s’ cameras. She felt her throat tighten, and a tear slipped down her cheek.
She whispered, “Je t'adore, ma petite.”
Phillip shot her a questioning glance, and Steph immediate-
ly felt ridiculous. She was glad for the darkness that surrounded them. She brushed away the tear and then flicked some sand off
of her black dress.
“Why didn’t you just tell me, love?” He turned to face her.
She flopped back on her elbows and looked out at the black
water.
“I was sick, Phillip. They gave me three pints of blood. And
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I was really high on morphine. That’s some really good shit. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to me due to a baby neither of us knew about. And I was terrified. I didn’t want you to think
that losing the baby was why I was saying no.”
He nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “Why did you say
no?”
Steph huffed and relaxed all the way back on the sand. “I
wasn’t ready to commit to “till death do us part.” Not even close.
I barely knew you. It’s fucked up, but I know you so much better after a year of tabloid sparring than I ever did when we
were…us.”
“Come on, Stephanie. That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? I remember how nervous I was to tell you I was
moving to Europe for good. I was freaked for days before Liam
was born, hoping you wanted me there as much as I wanted to be
near you. I remember being so excited about the next phase of
us. I wanted to spend every night with you. To learn who you
were, what you thought about the world… everything. I wanted to discover your favorite things…what you loved.”
“I loved you, Stephanie.” His exasperation was blatant. He flopped down into the sand and rolled over onto his side,
propping himself up on one elbow.
“I was afraid, alright?” She felt tears forming again and
blinked rapidly to combat them. “Why didn’t you answer the
phone when I called the next morning? I finally had the balls to call you, and you never answered.”
“I was so hurt, Love. I lost it completely. I got drunk and
trashed our cottage like it was some shite hotel room on the
road.”
“I know.” She sniffed, remembering the bloody holes in the
white-washed walls.
He reached down and brushed away her tear with his
thumb. With the slightest shake of his head, he glanced up at the stars. “You were right to say no. I wasn’t mature enough to be
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anyone’s husband.”
“No, Phillip. I’m just not wife material.” Trembling at the
ugly truth of her words, she held his gaze.
“We’re quite the couple then, yeah?” he scoffed, a sad smile
creeping onto his lips.
“We were doomed from the start. Oil and water.” Stephanie
choked out the words, feeling a crushing pain as her damaged
heart fractured all over again. A long pause resonated between
them, and he gently brushed a strand of hair away from her
cheek. Shaking his head, his determined eyes held hers hostage.
“More like oil and a blowtorch,
