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“Yes, I’ve been feeling that. Quite recently in fact.” I stared at him. Why did his eyes change color like that? They were a kind of maple syrup color with flecks of green at the moment. It was mesmerizing. “If you’ve come to apologize for going back to your ex, thank you. But it happens all the time. I get it.”

“No, you fucking don’t.” The flash of anger from those eyes jolted me awake, and I was suddenly on guard. “You don’t. I get played all the time. All the time. Do you want to hear about the most recent event? My intention was to come here, and find you, and tell you. Then it’s up to you. Do you get it?” I wanted to ask what was going to be up to me, but silence felt better. He tugged on my hand. “Come on. Walk with me.” I followed him, holding his hand, half delighting in his touch, the muscles in his fingers, the taut veins beneath the soft skin, half trying not to feel, not to think. He went up to the driver of the car and told him to wait for his call, then whirled me around as he looked up and down the avenue and ran with me across the street to the park. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. “Better like this,” was all he said, and we went through the low brown stone wall and on to the curving grey paths of Central Park.

We walked silently for about five minutes, towards the reservoir, and began circling it. I thought it was a risky place for a quiet conversation, but maybe he was right. Hiding in plain sight. I said nothing.

“Lily. I owe you an apology. I treated you very badly. It wasn’t my intention...for things to go like that.”

I tried to keep quiet. I failed. “What was your intention, then? What the hell happened? I know we had a free and easy thing going on, but…” I stopped. Ranting never worked.

Tristan looked pained. “Let me just tell you. Ok? I wasn’t expecting them to turn up. And I’d been told that you and Dave were…”

I couldn’t help interrupting him. “Dave arranged for them to come over. To see you. To restart the band, for his greater fame and financial glory. Did you know that?”

He pinched his nose, and dropped my hand to run his over his face. “Yeah. I mean, now I do. Or I did. Before you just told me, I mean.”

“So…,” I started, then stopped.

“So,” Tristan continued. “So. So. Look, there’s no easy way to say this. The ex. She told me she’d heard rumors. From friends in NY. That you and Dave went way back. Partners in crime. Partners in bed. That you were in it for the prestige, climbing the ladder. That sex with any rock star would work for you. That I needed to see it. James had said the same thing.” He pulled his leather jacket around him, and wrapped his arms around his waist to hold it closed. “She told me I’d missed all the signs. Again.”

I stared at him. He looked at me, then looked away. He nodded his head towards the path leading away from the reservoir back into the park. I followed him, glad to be away from the early morning joggers coming up behind us. This needed to be private. Alone. We couldn’t both break down, not here, not in the open like this. I wished Trevor was here, some master of ceremonies to fix our messed up selves. We walked some more. I kicked a few pebbles. If this was to be our last time together, I wanted to drag it out at least. I didn’t want to be angry at him. I was angry at him. My mind was in pieces. Any rock star? Any?

I turned to him. “So she convinced you I was a groupie on the make, only worried about my career?”

He darted his tongue quickly between his lips and sucked in his cheeks, before frowning. “Um, yeah, something like that. Yes. Basically.”

The blood was rushing in my head. “And it was that easy? Did she do this before or after you snorted coke off her…?” I stopped. No. Wrong thing to say.

He seemed to be getting angry too. “Before. Of course. Fuck. I’m not proud of this. Don’t make it hard for me.”

I felt like slapping him. “Don’t make it hard for you? Why the fuck not? Why shouldn’t I?” I could feel the pulse behind my eyes. I was too tired for this chess game. “And AC? Did he back her up?”

Tristan looked away again. “No.”

“Did he tell you he hit on me? Or had you already told him to do it?” What a fool I was. All of them conspiring together, with their little games. What an idiot. The image did not match what was within, obviously.

“No one needs to tell AC to hit on anyone. He’ll do it automatically.”

“So what did he tell you?”

“He told me I was a ‘complete fucking cunt,’ I think those were his words.”

“Was this at 5:00 a.m., when you turned up completely wasted with the ex and Paul?”

“No, actually. It was at 4:00 a.m., when he came to get me from the club. Sharing the rehab love.” He smirked.

“So I have AC to thank for you not sleeping with them? Thank you AC, I guess. Were you horribly disappointed? Or did AC help out? Who was on top? Do you fuck him every time he does you a favor?”

Tristan stopped, and put his hands on my shoulders. I flinched and he took them off. I couldn’t tell whether I was sorry or not. I stood rock still. Whatever he said next—that would decide everything.

“You know, you’re being a bitch. But, fair enough. Yeah, I was disappointed. In myself. For being such an easily led fool.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Then his arms were around me, and my face was crushed against his chest, while he buried his head in my shoulder. I wanted him to hold me like this forever. I wanted the earth to swallow us both up so all this could stop. I wanted to get away from him before he was like a drug I couldn’t say no to. “Partir quand meme,” like the song. I didn’t want to be played. Again. Not again. His low voice rumbled through me. “I’m sorry, Lily. I’m really sorry.”

I just held him. I didn’t know what I wanted to say. He smelled so fantastic, like leather, and water, and sky, and airports, and cigarettes, and sweat, and him, over all of it, the sweet heady scent of his skin. It was like all the cells in my body had been starving.

Tristan kissed my head, and straightened up. “I don’t trust people. My faith in human nature…um…fragile. At best.” He looked at me. “I’m not sure why I choose the wrong people to believe. Trevor asked me if it was because that way I wouldn’t be disappointed, my twisted world view could carry on as before.”

I smiled, in spite of myself. Trevor. “That sounds like something he’d say.”

“He likes you, you know.”

“So on the recommendations of your friends, you’ve come back?” It burst out before I had time to pull it back. I knew it was the wrong thing to say as it was hitting the air. His face crumpled, and his mouth became a line, his jaw clenched.

“Yes. Ok. I deserve that. And what you’re going to say next.”

“Which is what? Enlighten me.”

“That it’s not enough.”

I turned away from him, to look at a tree. Funny, how the bark had little lines in it. I wondered what it meant. I reached my hand out. I couldn’t look at him.

“Are you offering to come back? While saying that you wouldn’t take you back if you were me? That’s not very convincing,” I said towards the tree.

“Ah, shit…yes…no?” He came up to face me. I kept examining the tree. “I’ve been playing games for so long. I…Lily, don’t do this for me.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Walk away. Don’t walk away to teach me a lesson. Please.” He picked up my hands in his.

I stared at his wrists, then at each finger in turn. My throat was tight with the effort not to scream or cry. I felt like I was running out of air. One of his songs was repeating in my head. I couldn’t figure out which one it was. I looked up at his eyes; now they were dark, a burnt sugar and tree color. I noticed the circles under his eyes for the first time, the faint shadow on his cheeks. His mole. We stood there, staring at each other.

His voice, when it came, was like a groan. “Ok. Go.”

And I did.

Chapter 29

I retraced our steps. I was dead. Numb. He was right. If I stayed, he wouldn’t respect me. It would be over before it began. I’d have nothing. Now I had his apology. And the cold comfort of dignity.

I made it to the reservoir, and I stood and stared at the ducks for a while. Then I headed back towards the apartment. I stopped when I saw a bench with a view of a nice tree and the entrance to the park, where we had come in. I sat down, very calmly. I wasn’t crying. I was proud of that. No tears. I’d made my decision. My life had shifted. He had offered the choice—integrity or obsession. No matter than the two of them were tangled up in my head beyond belief. But if Tristan saw it that way—thought that there was only one choice—I had to agree.

I sat there, and the sun warmed the back of my neck, and I watched the nannies wheeling the toddlers to the playground. And a few people came and sat down with coffee. A group of teenagers turned up one of their phones really loud to play some song. One girl had a high pitched squeal, like an electrocuted mouse. They moved on towards the tennis courts and it was relatively quiet again. I watched the people come and go. In pairs. Chatting. Alone. I could hear the buses on the street. More kids came out, threw their knapsacks in a pile and started a game of Frisbee.

The sun filtered the light down through the branches onto my face. It felt nice, I thought. Warm. But soft. I took a deep, gasping breath. Good. Still no tears. I looked at my hands. They seemed very far away. The fingernails were slightly blue. I thought I could hear a voice telling me to go inside. But that seemed very far away as well.

I noted how well my hands fitted over my knees. Strange. Yes, they were mine. I had legs. And then I realized I needed to leave. And I got up, slowly, all pins and needles and walked out of the park. Through the brown stone wall again. Across Central Park West. Down the street. Through the doors. All just like normal.

Just before I walked into my building, I thought about my phone. Did I have it? Right. I walked a bit past my door, and leaned against the building. The bricks rubbed cold and rough against my back. I turned on the phone, and it lit up like a Christmas tree. Four voice mail messages. An uncountable number of emails. Two texts.

I went to the texts first, like a drunk to a tallboy. The first one was from Alice.

I let in flowers had to go Sis broke wrist. Squash bitch. Back Thurs. U gd? Luv u babez      

I laughed. Street Alice, with the minted family. Too funny.

I opened the second one without looking at the phone. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see it.

I miss you.      

Chapter 30

Inside, I’d calmed down enough to decide two things. One, I needed to organize my life. Two, I needed some time away. Some retreat somewhere. Trees. Water. Rice. Yoga mats. For now, at least the organizing part. I sat down on the floor next to the bed, looking up at the sky through the window. It was almost like being a child again, little against the big furniture, the big sky. I let out a long, tight breath. The pain in my throat was back, tight and dry, like a rope made of sand. I swallowed hard. It hurt. Fuck, it hurt.

I reached up for the phone, which was resting innocently on the bed. And there the message was, staring at me. “I miss you.” I miss you. I hadn’t been gone that long. Or was he the one who was gone? Organization. I pressed one for the voice messages, and listened, not without a certain feeling of dread, that fortunately lessened as I deleted each message in turn. One telemarketer, one from Alice, two from Dave. And it was him calling personally, not his secretary. I must still be in his good books, despite my runner from the UK. Or maybe the story of you walking away from Tristan has already made the rounds, intoned the annoying voice in my head, and he wants to hear it personally. I leaned back against the wall and just sat there for a little while, fighting the urge to close my eyes and sleep. Every part of my body felt heavy and thick.

Finally, I dialed Dave’s direct line. It was time. I had used up all my hibernation points, unless I really did intend on walking away from everything—and the shitstorm that would provoke. I listened to the rings, once, twice, then a third time, preparing another message in my head. Something about accounting for my time today. My deep sense of responsibility. I was contemplating how thickly I could lay it on, when the rings suddenly stopped. I was surprised when his clipped, slightly nasal voice came through the phone. “Dave Fanning here.”

“Dave?” I asked stupidly. “It’s Lily.”

“Lily. Good. How are you? Better?” His voice softened from his initial official greeting, but there was still a certain insistence there. Like he knew he’d get his way. I wondered how much he had heard already. How up to date he was. If he’d heard the latest, that would mean that everyone else in the world had too. Well, the line of girls waiting for a chance at Tristan could reform. It probably already had. It probably never had unformed. I shook off the image.