"What's wrong?"
"He's in a really bad way, Natalie. I think all of this negative press is bringing back a lot of memories from the accident."
My hand fell to my mouth as I realized the pain he must be going through alone. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and checked it for messages. Nothing.
"Why hasn't he called me?"
His eyes wrinkled as he gave me a helpless shrug. "I don't know."
He needs me. I dashed around the apartment, grabbing my keys, purse, and phone. Maybe he was too stubborn to ask for help. I glanced sadly at the packet Luke gave me.
"Thanks a lot, Luke. I wish I didn't have to leave but I think Will needs me-I'm really excited to start working for Pardini Worldwide."
He nodded seriously. "I'll tell them. Carrie will contact you with the details."
A group of paparazzi clustered around Will's apartment, surrounding the stairs that led to his building.
Vultures.
They whirled around to snap photos of me as I walked up the steps. Recognizing me, they screamed my name and the strangeness of having people I'd never met know my name distracted me for a moment. I stopped in front of the door and hesitated. I wanted to see him-I always wanted to see him-but would he want to see me? Would he send me back home immediately?
Knocking on the door, I flinched as if I expected him to be standing right behind it. Several long seconds passed. The back of my neck burned as the vultures continued to click away. I knocked again.
Nothing.
Groaning, I sent him a quick text: It's me.
At last, I heard the sounds of someone moving in his apartment. The door cracked open and an angry, dark eye glowered at me.
"You're not supposed to be here."
I was hurt by the gruff tone of his voice. "I know. Luke said you weren't doing well, and you haven't been responding to my calls."
"Interfering jerk."
"MR. PARDINI! Do you have a statement?"
He shuddered slightly at the sound of their voices. "Get in quickly." He let the door open and squinted from the sunlight. I gasped as I took in his haphazard appearance. His face was pale and gaunt; he looked like he'd stayed up several days, but his eyes were listless. Dark.
The door closed behind me, shutting out the noise of the crazed mob.
"Heard about the job. Congrats," he said with his back to me.
"Thanks," I said in a small voice, feeling a bit wounded at the indifference in his voice.
Without so much as a friendly greeting, Will walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, where he watched the giant plasma television screen. A CNN host argued with a psychologist about whether rehabilitation worked for DUI drivers while a marquee near the bottom mentioned that Pardini stock had fallen several points. He pulled a laptop over his knees and his sunken eyes darted across the screen as he read an email.
"Is this what you've been doing this whole time?" I asked, horrified.
He shrugged slightly, looking defeated in his battered t-shirt and sweatpants. "What else is there to do? I can't leave and it's all I've been able to think about for days. I'm going to hold a press conference tomorrow."
I sank into the couch next to him, feeling increasingly hurt by his utter lack of warmth. This isn't about you.
"What? Did your publicist tell you to do that?"
Having a dozen different media outlets fire questions at him seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.
He sipped from the stone cold mug of coffee. "I fired my publicist."
Shock rippled through my joints. I looked at Will's sunken face, debating whether I should keep my thoughts to myself. "Will, I don't think that's a good idea. You can barely talk about the accident without having panic attacks."
"It doesn't matter what I can or can't handle. I need to do this on my own."
The coldness in his voice made me think that he also included me. "Will, you don't need to do this on your own. Let me help you."
I tried to close the laptop, but he jerked the screen away from me. A pang struck my heart as he looked at me, a frightening, almost angry look striking out at me.
"Just leave me be."
My heart seized with pain. I knew that he was hurting, but I desperately wanted to help him. I felt responsible for the whole thing. My hand fell on his thigh. "Please don't shut me out."
The laptop clattered as he set it down on the table. A strange, humorless smile filled his face and he laughed, shaking his head. My blood raced through when he suddenly gripped his head and pulled his hair. I couldn't tell whether it was madness or exhaustion.
"Will, you're scaring me."
I touched his shoulder, but he moved away from me as if I repulsed him. I pulled my hands away from him, my face hot. What did I do? The dam I'd built to keep my depression at bay finally crumbled and Will saw the agony on my face.
"I'm sorry, Natalie. I can't deal with this. It's too much." He finally looked at me and I could see the stress breaking him down. He was like a shattered sculpture. Maybe he could be mended, but he would never be the same again. There was still no warmth in his voice. It was as if he blamed me. "There's just nothing left in me, Natalie."
"Are you angry with me?" My eyes burned as I watched him carefully, his face looked prematurely lined with fatigue. There was no spirit in his body, none of that fevered energy that made him so exciting.
"No, I don't feel anything for you anymore." He turned his head sideways and his eyes looked like dark tunnels.
Something went through me as I looked at him: a silent howl. He's breaking up with me. I shook my head, tears already spilling down. "But-Will-"
"I'm sorry." He hunched over his faded sweatpants. His grief was beyond tears, it seemed. "I can't do this right now."
I don't feel anything for you.
Whatever we had in our brief time together was gone. He couldn't handle a relationship with me or maybe he really didn't have any feelings for me. It didn't matter. It was over. I felt like I was bleeding to death.
"I want you to know that the time I had with you was the best in my life. I wish I could have done more for you."
Will cringed against the sound of my shaking voice. "Just go."
He might as well have kicked me in the ribs. The air left my lungs and a sob shook through my throat. His head turned and he finally looked alive, his eyes were glazed over and he made a movement as though he meant to touch me, but I dodged out of reach.
I shot up from the couch and ran from him like a child. I hoped that he would catch up to me and apologize-or beg me to stay, but I didn't hear so much as a whimper. I shut the front door as bright flashes blinded my eyes. I threw my arms in front of my face.
"Ms. Porter!"
A dozen strangers elbowed each other to scream at me, demanding questions and offering me thousands of dollars to sell a story. A violent surge of hatred reared up inside me as I stared at their insistent faces.
"Fuck off!"
There were yells of anger as I stormed down the steps. My shoulder slammed against someone's camera and his voice rose in outrage.
Good, I thought. Maybe you'll understand how pissed off I am right now.
They followed me all the way to my car, still madly clicking away at me even though they had no idea that I had nothing to do with William Pardini anymore.
For a moment, I saw myself yanking on the steering wheel to drive towards Oakland and running over Ben's body. He'd deserve it.
It was easier to cling onto my anger, because if I didn't, I'd be forced to think about how I just lost William. There was also the sting of disappointing my parents, who would be extremely upset. My mother's voice rang in my head.
First Ben, now William. You really go through them, don't you?
After this, they would lose all hope for me.
I turned the key to my apartment and walked over the ugly carpet. Having no desire to be interrogated by Jessica, I headed straight for my bedroom. I saw a brief image of Luke and Jessica sitting at the kitchen table, standing up when they saw me. A bottle of champagne sat on the table.
"Natalie! We wanted to celebrate-where are you going?"
Oh, God no. Not now.
Jessica took one look at my flushed face. "What happened?"
My eyes darted to Luke, who still had the vestiges of a smile on his face. He fingered a bottle opener anxiously.
"We broke up," I said in a hoarse voice.
My best friend gasped and looked at Luke. "Why?"
I shrugged as if it was a minor inconvenience. "He couldn't handle it."
Luke's eyes were sympathetic and I felt a sudden rush of anger for him, too. Stop looking at me like I'm a beaten dog.
"He's under a lot of stress," he said carefully. "It's probably the best thing for now-"
"How the hell would you know?" I snapped.
"Natalie!"
"No!" I looked at both of them, seizing upon something-anything that would make me feel better. "You never even liked him! He dropped everything in Italy and flew to Chicago just to help you."