When Stars Fall by Wendy Million
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ellie
Nine Years Ago
Staring down at my three-month-old daughter, I wish her awake. I like her best when her eyes are open, when I find hints of Wyatt in her features. The swell, the rush of love people say happens when you first lay eyes on your child, hasn’t happened.
Numb. That’s what I feel. And exhausted. So exhausted.
This absence of emotional connection is my punishment for keeping Wyatt out of her life. He can’t connect with her and neither can I. A good mother loves her baby.
There’s a gentle knock on the doorframe, and Calshae is in the entryway to Haven’s bedroom, concerned etched on her face. “Ellie, are you okay?”
I turn back to Haven’s sleeping form.
“You’re crying again.” She scans me up and down, assessing. “You’ve lost more weight too.”
“I’m fine. I still have lots of baby weight to lose.” I brush past her to exit the room. If Haven doesn’t get her nap, she’ll cry. No more wailing. I can’t take the noise. “You just let yourself in?”
“I knocked and called your name. I was worried.”
Her help isn’t needed today or any day. She’s been a broken record since she found out I was pregnant, urging me to tell Wyatt the truth.
“Do you want me to stay and you can get some rest?” Calshae’s tone is even, like I’m the problem, like I’m being difficult.
“No, I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“There’s no shame in needing help.”
“Women raise babies all the time. I’ll figure it out.” I enter the galley kitchen with her following behind. Buying this house is one of the few things I’ve done right since coming back to Bermuda. The place suits me. Ocean views. Not too much house to look after for one person. Privacy.
Calshae takes a deep breath and jams her hands into the pockets of her miniskirt. “Is how you’re behaving about Wyatt? You can go see him. You can tell him. Whether he’s with that other girl or not.”
“Katrina. You mean Katrina.” Her name is bitter on my tongue. Didn’t take him long to move someone else into the house, into his bed.
“From what I’ve seen, he doesn’t look at her like he looked at you.”
“How would I even know if he was in LA?” I grab a mug from the cupboard and fill it with old, bitter coffee. “I don’t know his schedule anymore.”
“No one in his circle would tell you?”
“I left him because he wouldn’t get sober.”
“You’re miserable. How much worse could being with him be?”
I stare at her, turning over her words. Maybe being with Wyatt would help. She’s right that I’m not sure I could feel worse. I’m watching myself spin, spin, spin away into nothing.
“Maybe Wyatt would be able to help you. Maybe he’d want to help you.” Calshae gives me a hopeful look.
I brush away more tears, and I sip my coffee, but the tears keep coming. Sometimes I don’t even know I’m crying. “I’ll think about it.” I gulp the bitter coffee, and I pour myself another one, even though it’s cold and sharp at the back of my throat.
“He deserves to know.”
“Oh, I’m aware of what you think. Trust me. I’m sure lots of people think they know better than me. But they don’t get to decide. I do. I decide. You cannot comprehend what he’s like when he’s using. Until you’ve seen him in person, until you’re the one trying to explain his behavior to someone else, you don’t get a say.”
“I’m gonna go.” She walks around the island to the side entrance. “Call me if you need help, someone to talk to, whatever.”
The click of the door echoes through the kitchen, and I make it to my room before I collapse on the bed, sobbing. Something is wrong with me. Maybe that is Wyatt or Wyatt’s absence from my life. If I tell him, maybe I can snap out of this freefall.
Before I can change my mind, I dial the number for Yasmeen, Wyatt’s travel agent, from memory. She confirms Wyatt is in LA, and she offers to book me a flight, but I decline. The idea of seeing him has my heart racing, swirling its way into my throat.
Once I hang up, I sit and cradle the phone in my hands. Haven can’t come. I dial Nikki’s number. “Can you watch Haven?” I don’t bother with a hello.
“Uh,” Nikki says. “I guess? You getting groceries or something?”
“Or something. When can you get here?”
“I’ll be over soon.” There’s a beat of hesitation before she continues. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”
“Fine.” I grab a duffel bag out of my closet and throw clothes in it. I hang up and call the
airport for the next direct flight. There’s a coach seat left on a plane leaving in four hours. That’s good enough for me. By the time Nikki arrives, I’ve packed my bag but done little else.
“Where are you going?” Nikki eyes my overnight bag.
She scans the messy house and frowns. There are toys, blankets, empty bottles, diapers, wipes, and dishes littering every room. It’s hard to believe a baby can create such chaos. The thought of picking up even one thing makes my head spin.
“I think you might need some help. This place is a disaster,” Nikki says.
“No, I’m fine. Quick trip to LA.” I wave off her concern.
“Audition?” Nikki plops onto the couch. “I didn’t know you were going back to work. What’ll you do with Haven?”
“Not work,” I say, impatient. “Wyatt.”
“He called you?” She turns wide eyes to me.
“No, no. I just . . .” I shake my head.
“You’re going to tell him? That’s a bad idea. Such a bad idea. He can’t help you. He can’t even help himself lately. Have you been paying attention to anything?” She narrows her eyes.
“You don’t get a say.”
“You’re going to shower, right?” Nikki sighs, and she scans my face.
“I’ll be staying at a hotel, so I’ll glam myself up before I go over.” I pick up my bag and give her a dirty look.
“If people see you . . .”
“I used to live there. Getting in and out without being seen is easy. I’ll be fine.” My idea is good. She should stop trying to drag me down.
“How long?” Nikki stands and goes to the kitchen. The fridge door opens. “Did you leave bottles? Breastmilk? Formula? Whatever else I need to look after a baby?”
“Call Mom if you need help.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Nikki stares at me around the door of the fridge.
“I’m fine!” I shout. “Why does everyone think I’m not fine? Everything is fine. Once I get Wyatt back, once I tell him, everything will be more than fine.”
“He’s sober? Clean? Doesn’t seem like he’s anywhere close, from what I’ve seen.”
“I don’t care anymore.” I open the side door to exit the house. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
“Ellie.” Nikki follows me to the door. “I think you might need some help.”
“I’m going,” I say. “I’m going to tell him, to get him back.”
She leans against the island. “I start my real estate course in three days. You need to be home by then.”
“Of course, of course.” I give her a little wave as I close the door behind me.
The next morning, I text Kyle when I get to the side entrance of Wyatt’s property. Kyle appears within minutes, and he grins, unlocking the gate and swinging it wide. “You coming back?” He scans me from head to toe. “Wyatt’s been a mess.”
I ignore his comment and try to keep focused on why I’m here. “I wanted to talk to him for a minute. I’m guessing he’s home?” He was never a morning person, and I doubt that’s changed in the last year. More of a mid- to late-afternoon kind of guy.
“Yeah.” Kyle’s enthusiasm fades. “Are you okay? You look tired. Don’t seem like yourself.”
“I’m fine.” I give a slight laugh. “Long flight.”
“Uh.” Kyle sucks in a breath as we walk to the main door. He scratches the back of his head. “Wyatt’s been having some parties and . . .”
“I got it.” His warning could mean so many things. But I don’t want to discuss Wyatt with Kyle. Seeing Wyatt, talking to him, that’s my priority.
“Okay, I didn’t want you going in there unaware.”
I don’t want to ask, to speak her name, but if he’s still living with someone else, I need to brace myself. “Katrina . . .”
“Is gone. She moved out a few months ago.”
“Oh.” Some of my anxiety eases.
“It was never what people thought anyway.” Kyle glances at me before we part ways. “My gut tells me it’ll always be you, Ellie. I probably shouldn’t say that. I don’t know what happened between you two.”
I wish I didn’t know either. Talking to Kyle again, thinking about Wyatt, makes me want a different outcome. “It’s okay,” I say to Kyle. “I’ll come say goodbye whenever I leave.” Maybe I won’t leave. Maybe I’ll stay.
He nods and wanders to the security hut at the main entrance where he often goes when Wyatt needs or wants more privacy in the house.
At the door, I contemplate walking in unannounced. If I got this far, it’ll be unlocked. But I don’t live here anymore. I ring the doorbell.
When the door swings back, I’m surprised. The willowy, dark-haired Italian beauty I once despised in the back of a limo stands poised in the entrance. She’s wearing a shirt I bought Wyatt.
“Blanca.” The name drips from me.
“Ellie Cooper.” She takes me in. “What brings the fallen star back to her former home?”
“I’m here to see Wyatt.”
“Hmm . . .” She puts a manicured finger to her lips. “I suppose he isn’t busy anymore.”
I move past her into the house. “Where is he?”
“His room.” She eyes me slyly. “Rough night.”
I hate her. Part of me hates myself for coming. My life is coming apart at the seams, and he’s whoring around.
“Put on a few pounds, huh?” Blanca calls out.
The living room is riddled with empty pill containers and alcohol bottles from beer to wine to spirits, at varying levels of fullness. A white powder is smeared across the coffee table. I hope Wyatt is alive.
With my fingertips, I push open the door to Wyatt’s room. The stench of stale alcohol hits me in the face. His sleeping form is sprawled on the bed. His steady breathing brings on a rush of relief, and I release the breath I was holding. So many times I crawled into and out of this very spot. So many memories. Deep within me, sadness stirs.
“Wyatt.” I perch on the edge of the bed, and I rock his shoulder.
“Go away.” Wyatt groans and turns away from me.
“Wyatt.” My voice is even. “It’s Ellie.”
“Ellie’s gone,” he says. “There is no Ellie.”
“Wyatt,” I try again. “It’s me. Look at me.” I want to grab his face and force him to see me.
He rolls onto his back and squints. He laughs, but the sound isn’t normal. “You look like Ellie.” When he sits up, he pushes my hair away from my face to examine me. “But you’re not her. She’s gone.”
“Wyatt. It’s me. Really, it’s me. I need to talk to you. There’s something I need to tell you.”
He stares at me like he’s never seen me before. He reaches for the pills beside his bed and pops another one. “I like this combination.” He tries to read the label and shrugs. “If I get to see you, even a fake you, that’s pretty fucking good.”
The reality of who he is hits me in the chest. My racing heart slows to a sluggish pace. He can’t save me. He can’t even save himself.
He brushes the tears off my cheeks and brings his thumb to his face. He chuckles. “Real tears. This shit is amazing.”
Anger rises in me so swiftly I almost slap his hand. He needs to be better. We can’t be the people we were before, and he’s never going to change.
With renewed determination, I yank open drawers, and I search for things to take. If I can’t have him, I want anything that’ll remind me of him—tokens to give our daughter someday that might mean something.
“Oh, this shit is good. If Ellie was here, she’d take one too.” Wyatt collapses back on the bed with a sigh.
“No, she wouldn’t,” I mumble under my breath. “That Ellie loved you too damned much for her own good. But not anymore. Not anymore.” Tears clog my throat, and I have to stop speaking.
I stuff my purse with photos, trinkets, things I left behind. Knowing him, he’ll think he threw them out or burned them. His impulse control is terrible when he’s wasted.
When I have everything I want, I stand in the doorway of the bedroom. My chest is caving in on itself. Even though I understand he’s no good for me, the urge to crawl into the bed with him, let myself drown the same way he’s drowning, is so tempting. For the first time, his claim of not wanting to feel whatever emotions drove him to addiction makes sense to me. I don’t want to feel this way anymore either.
But I won’t lose myself in the bottom of a pill bottle, in a glass of lean, or in a fingertip of coke. We’d never forgive each other if I slid into this world with him and sacrificed our child. She’d be the victim of our reckless love.
“Wyatt,” I call out into the room. Silence greets me. Maybe Calshae is right. He has a right to know, but he doesn’t deserve a place in her life. Not like this. “We had a baby. I named her Haven. I hope you’re well enough to meet her someday.” I turn my back on him and walk past Blanca doing cocaine in the living room and straight out the door. A shudder threatens to blow me apart.
Home.Hold it together until you get home.
I stop at the hut to ask Kyle to keep my visit a secret, even from Wyatt, and then I take the next plane back to the island.
Instead of going to my house, I go to my mom’s office at the medical clinic. With a deep breath, I knock on her door.
“Come in.” She glances up from her desk when I enter. “Ellie! What a nice surprise. Did you bring Haven?”
At the sight of her, I press a hand to my chest, a sob lodged in my throat. Wyatt, lying in bed, too out of it to realize I was there, flashes in my mind. He’ll never get help. But I have to.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” She circles her desk and envelops me in a hug.
“Help me.” I force the words out with a sob. “There’s something wrong with me. I need help.”
