Untangling The Stars (23 page)

“What, seriously? I’m willing to walk away from all of it for
you
and that’s ridiculous? I’m trying to show you how much I care, and you just throw it back in my face.” Guy sounded so angry that now Andie could hear his voice trembling. She expected that the cell phone he was holding was going to be impacting a wall very shortly. Andie had to admit, she was relieved they were on the phone and not in person—and it had nothing to do with being spellbound by his looks either. The memory of Guy yanking his tie off his neck as if he were getting a last minute stay of execution from the hangman’s noose wafted front and center into Andie’s memory.
You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry
. Wise words from
the Incredible Hulk
that suddenly felt too much like Guy.

“Your life is your own, Guy. It doesn’t belong to Silas Dove, your manager, or me. You choose your own path. It’s not written for you. You write it. Loving someone doesn’t mean you walk away from your life, Guy. It means having someone with you on your journey through it. If you throw away your career for me, you’ll end up resenting me. Maybe not now or next month or next year. But eventually. And the same is true for me.”

“You don’t know what I think or what I want,” Guy snapped. “I’m not one of your students you can lecture to, Dr. Foxglove.” The line sizzled from the heat in his voice.

Andie sighed. “I don’t think you’re going to listen, and I need to go.”

“That’s fine, Andie. Your class was a pleasure. I hope you enjoyed your moment in the spotlight. I’m not going to be your research subject.”

“Low, Guy. Even for you. You’re better than that. You want to play the bad guy in real life, you go right ahead, Silas. I’m not going to be
your
headline.” Andie slid the bar across on her phone and powered it off. The movement was unsatisfactory. Now she wished she had something to throw. She was done, and she was shaking.
To hell with it.

She had been pacing through the entire conversation and now she flopped down on the couch, mentally and emotionally exhausted. She stared out her window at the lights of the university, far in the distance. Tears welled up as she finally allowed her feelings and emotions to take over. Frustrated, tired, and heartbroken, Andie covered her face and cried. What the
hell
had happened? How could so much change and go wrong in just a couple of weeks? It was like her life had done a complete 180. Her own friends had all but blacklisted her. She wasn’t a part of the literacy gala that had meant so much to her—that she had launched! Dean Kelley was giving official press releases for the university about her relationship with Guy. Andie was smart enough to know that even though the dean had been empathetic and supportive, there was going to be a limit to how much she could control. After all, there were powers that be beyond the dean. Andie did not pretend for a moment to believe that she was indispensable at the university, and if the sudden publicity became intolerable, or worse, even more negative, Andie knew that changes would be made. And that was almost more than she could bear. It was more than a job. It was her
life.

Adding insult to injury, it was plain to see that her years of research, writing, and lecturing about the need to disassociate the fantastical Hollywood celebrity life from reality had now become the fabric of Andie’s life—and she was failing her own course. She was living her research like some kind of bizarre lab experiment and wasn’t that what had turned Bruce Banner into the Incredible Hulk? She couldn’t remember. She now had two lives, the one spun in the media and the one that she had been living until Guy Wilder sidled into her class. Actually, Guy was right about that. She had not been ready to handle the media storm, and truth be told, all her research and lectures had not captured the brutal onslaught and invasion of privacy and personal life that the paparazzi caused. But what was the fascination (and obsession) with celebrities and their lives? That really was the core and the root of the difficulties for people like Guy to separate the role, the character, and script from daily life. They were never allowed to be themselves because the public never saw them as anything else. Guy would always be Silas Dove or whatever character came next. It took type casting to a whole new level. Andie shook her head, made herself get up off the couch, and went into the bathroom.

Puffy eyes, tangled hair, and red cheeks looked back at her in the mirror. She splashed some water on her face, dried off, and went to the kitchen. At least home was still home, at any rate, she had that. Pouring a glass of pink Moscato, Andie went back to her bedroom and lay down on the bed. Taking a sip of wine, she looked over at the other side of the bed and thought of Guy lying there beside her. He was so gorgeous and amazingly beautiful on the inside, too—when he wasn’t busy Hulking out. She pictured his ice blue, smoldering eyes and perfectly carved lips. She could still feel his gentle stroke as he slid his hand down her hip after they had made love and just gazed into one another. There was so much more to Guy than the pictures and the articles, his manager, the show. Andie knew that. She only wished that he did, wished that he could see the same Guy that she saw. The truth was, his career had made him be used just by its nature. Silas Dove, too, was expendable—hell, who wasn’t—but if he went down it could take a lot of people with him. In that sense, the Mad Man had been right. People did depend on him, their careers and their livelihoods depended on him being on that stage
and
being who he was written to be. It had to mean something to him, Andie knew. He was enormously talented and he had clawed and scraped his way to achieve his dream—the very reason he’d left Alaska for Hollywood. The problem with dreams is sometimes they are not always what you expected. Maybe more, maybe less. And then came the “what now?”

Andie refused to be the reason Guy walked away from it all. If he did, she would support him because that was what he wanted. Fine. But throwing it away as a means of fixing their relationship was wrong, and like she had told him, it would backfire. It had classic textbook backfire potential, perfect romantic melodrama like it had been scripted itself. And, the horrible truth was, Andie didn’t know if she believed in happy endings. She wasn’t sure why Guy had said that. Had she come off that cynical? But she wasn’t sure about a lot of things right now and that was why she just needed some time to think. Why had he been at her university that day anyway? How had he just happened to come into her classroom? The questions made her dizzy. Andie had never asked him that and she almost picked up the phone to call him and ask, but of course, she didn’t. She sipped some more wine and thought about what it could have been. If there was no such thing as a happy ending, what did that say about fate? Or, feeling a strange twist in her throat, was what we imagined fate to be the workings of something more sinister—like, for example, a headline hungry manager who felt a little trouble was worth a lot of publicity? Staring at the phone on her nightstand, Andie decided tonight was not the time to go searching for answers to life’s most mysterious questions. She had enough drama for today and enough to think about already.

Finishing her wine, Andie set down aside the empty glass and saw that it was almost eleven. She also remembered it was Friday night, which just depressed her even more.
Why the hell not. Of course, it’s Friday night. I just broke up with possibly the guy of my dreams. My friends want me to step away for a while, and I might not have a job on Monday. Okay, that might be a little overly dramatic
, she thought. Dean Kelley had not even hinted that her job was in jeopardy. Really, the only underlying message was that there was some concern. She didn’t need to go making a mountain out of a molehill. Now that Andie had told Guy she wanted to take a break, the media and paparazzi would move on and things would—hopefully—go back to normal. Dr. Foxglove would no longer be a part of the fantasy world and would just be the regular popular lecturer she had been before the frenzy had begun. That she could handle.

Andie crawled under the covers and turned out the light. In the privacy of the quiet darkness, she curled into a ball and allowed herself to sob softly. She missed Guy, his touch, his striking eyes, the way that one wild lock of hair would always flip over his forehead. When he was with her, and it was just them. He relaxed and was even more beautiful, his inner beauty peeking out around his rough and unpolished edges. There was a sadness that moved her and a quiet longing in him that she could feel and was drawn to. She didn’t know him and wanted to. The problem was, Guy didn’t know himself either. He had lost himself, in the lights, on the stage, in the direction by the producers, and the demands of his manger. He needed to find himself again and only he could do that. Andie hoped he would. She felt deep down that was what he had been trying to do with her, in some ways. But she couldn’t be his life raft. She could only swim with him, alongside him, if he let her. He had to do it on his own. And as for herself, Andie realized she needed to toughen up and disregard the nonsense. Because, at the end of the day, that was what it was. She was a college professor for crying out loud, she must have some wits about it. It was time she stopped cowering in the flashes of cameras in her face and ridiculous headlines in the tabloids. No television show, magazine, or crazy manager was going to redefine or intimidate Dr. Alessandra Foxglove. And with that last burst of indignation and frustration, the perfect antidote to insomnia, Andie fell asleep and dreamt of white sandy beaches and long walks in the sun, holding hands with the man she was enamored by. The one who right now didn’t want to talk to her or see her. Or maybe that was just Silas?

***

Andie strode quickly and confidently into the coffee shop. It was just after opening, so she wasn’t expecting many people. And if there were, well she was just ready to deal with it. Fortunately, there was just one customer at the counter who didn’t turn around when she walked in. Scott looked up and around the customer’s shoulder when he heard the bell, saw Andie and gave her a big grin. He started to say something and then she saw the look of bewilderment come over his face as his eyes made their way to the box in her hand. That was her cue. She gave him a big smile back, winked, and headed to the back sitting area, her spot, and set down the sheet-covered square. Oz came trotting over, tail wagging. She bent over and grabbed his happy sweet face in her hands and gave him a big hello, scratch on the ears, and kiss on top of his head. It felt good to love on somebody, even this silly beastie. Oz wandered right over to her box, tail wagging so hard he was almost hitting his own haunches. He lay down and stared happily, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Winfield,” Scott said as the gentleman turned from the counter and left.

“You bet, Scott, thanks.” The doorbell rang and the coffee shop was quiet. Within a couple of minutes through which Andie could smell the unmistakable whiff of cinnamon, Scott emerged carrying two cups and settled in a wingback chair beside Andie. He was good at playing patient, even though she knew he had to be going crazy trying to figure out what she’d toted in his café.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” he said, handing Andie her chai. He gazed thoughtfully down at Oz and the sheet covered box. He smiled and stretched out his legs, intentionally not asking what she was carrying, took a sip of his black coffee, and looked back up at Andie.

“Good morning to you. It’s nice to see you and thank you,” Andie smiled back raising her cup at Scott.

“You’re up early this morning. No all-nighter grading papers or wild girls’ night out?”

He must have noticed Andie’s flinch and a falter to his happy-go-lucky smile told her he felt bad for saying it. Scott was pretty intuitive and he knew his friend, one of his best friends. Besides, it wasn’t hard to read the news, watch her, see the change, and put two and two together. Besides, there was no doubt in Andie’s mind that Tandy had given Scott a piece of hers. Bad news always traveled fast.

“No, I had a quiet night in and a good nights’ sleep to boot. Drama is overrated, Scott.”

“Always has been and always will be. I have never understood the people who thrive in it. Me, well, I’ve had my fair share of it, and I do my best to stay away.” He looked down at Oz and a shadow of sadness fell over his face for just a second. Andie knew he was thinking briefly about his time in the military, and she said nothing. A brief moment of self-reflection never hurt anybody.

He shifted in his chair after a few seconds, crossed his legs, and leaned toward her. “So just how long are we going to ignore the flowery sheet covered elephant in the room, Dr. Foxglove?” he asked.

A big grin came over Andie’s face. “I did it, Scott. I really did.”

“Uh-oh. I’m not sure I want to know.”

Andie reached down and lifted up the front part of the sheet. Just enough to reveal the box was actually a pet crate. Oz jumped up excitedly and barked, the puppy in him overcoming his strict PTSD training.

“What?” Scott got up from his chair and pulled tugged on Oz’s collar. “Sit boy.” Oz obediently sat, tail still wagging side to side on the floor, looking eagerly into the box. Scott knelt down and looked inside to see a big orange tabby cat, curled up in a ball, caring less about being stared at, and closed his eyes again.

“Oh my god,” Scott laughed. “Well look at you! Aren’t you the most chilled out cat I’ve ever seen? Hey there, kitty.” He poked his finger in the crate. The cat opened one eye, yawned, and went back to ignoring the attention.

“Is he drugged?” Scott asked with a curious eyebrow.

Andie laughed. “No, he’s not. He’s so totally cool, Scott. In the shelter, he just walked over, jumped up in my lap, and started purring. In five minutes, he was asleep. He’s been at the shelter for months. His owner was elderly and passed away, and no one in the family wanted him. And no one who went to the shelter wanted him either because he’s three and not a cute little kitten. But I love him.”