In the hushed confines of the bathroom, Nicole's fingers trembled as they clutched the edge of the porcelain sink, seeking support amidst the chaos. Stray strands of her disheveled hair framed her face, mirroring the disarray of emotions spiraling within. The faint scent of JC's woody musk, a lingering trace of his presence, still clung to her and mingled with the antiseptic odor of the bathroom, creating an oddly surreal atmosphere.
The soft hum of distant chatter and laughter from the party outside seemed like an incongruous soundtrack to the storm raging within her. Her once-bright eyes, now glazed with a sheen of unshed tears, stared blankly at the reflection in the mirror. The harsh fluorescent light accentuated the weariness etched across her face, a stark contrast to the vibrant woman who had entered the party just hours ago.
As she closed her eyes, Nicole's mind replayed the fragments of moments shared with JC: the first time they met, their nights at the Brit, the merging of Josh into her life, the last time she felt his body pressed to hers just hours ago-all felt like cruel lies.
"Why did I let myself believe this was possible? Wasn't I supposed to be smarter than this?" she whispered to her reflection, each question a reminder of the vulnerability she tried desperately to conceal. A tear slid down her cheek, carrying with it the weight of not only his betrayal, but also the cumulative burden of every loss she had experienced. "I should have seen it coming," she thought.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open. Joel's entrance brought a momentary reprieve from the emotional whirlwind, his voice gentle, though a storm of fury was brewing within him at the heartbreaking scene before him. "Nic?" he called, the concern in his voice cutting through the charged air. "We can go. Let's go," Joel urged.
"My keys, my wallet, everything. They are all in the room," she responded, her voice trembling.
"We can sort it out tomorrow. Right now, we should leave," Joel insisted, the urgency in his tone underscoring the need to escape the suffocating atmosphere.
For the first time since the revelation, Nicole's emotional dam crumbled. Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent witnesses to the pain she had bottled up. "I need my things," she sobbed, the weight of the situation bearing down on her.
With a resigned sigh, Joel accompanied her up the stairs to the hotel room, where an air of tension awaited them. Joel knocked on the door forcefully. After a beat, the door opened, and JC's eyes met Nicole's. Guilt etched across his face as he attempted to articulate the tangled web of justifications that had led to this moment. Nicole's eyes bore the weight of betrayal, her gaze deflecting his words.
Joel, however, was a different storm brewing on the sidelines. The protective instinct he harbored for Nicole clashed with the disdain he felt for JC. As they entered, the room seemed to shrink as Joel's anger intensified, threatening to spill over.
"You have to understand," JC pleaded, desperation tainting his voice.
But Nicole remained unmoved. She recoiled from his touch. In the background, Joel's fists clenched and unclenched, the internal struggle manifesting into physical actions.
The breaking point came when JC reached out again towards Nicole, a plea for connection in a sea of disintegration. Joel, unable to contain his fury any longer, lunged forward. He wanted to make JC pay for the pain he had inflicted on his friend.
Nicole's voice sliced through the charged atmosphere, a scream that reverberated through the room. "Stop, Joel!" The command held a force that cut through the impending violence, freezing everyone in their tracks. Joel, mid-swing, halted, his eyes locked with Nicole's. At that moment, her gaze begged him to stop the physical altercation.
With a heavy exhale, Joel stepped back, his anger tempered by Nicole's plea. The room, once a battlefield, now held an air of resignation. "Get your things," Joel commanded. He remained standing square in front of JC, preventing him from approaching or stopping Nicole. The pair then left the room, leaving behind the debris of a love that had imploded under the weight of JC's lies.
****
The crackling fire pit outside Paul and Karen's house painted dancing shadows across Nicole's bundled form. She sat in solitude, enveloped by a jacket and blanket, seeking solace in the flickering warmth. Her phone, switched off, beside her, the screen black, a testament to JC's persistent attempts to reach her. Karen emerged from the house, a steaming mug in hand, her breath visible in the crisp night air. She approached cautiously, the concern etched on her face. She settled beside her, attempting to breach the silent fortress Nicole had erected around her.
"Honey, Joel told us what happened." She handed her the mug. "Just thought maybe this tea could help keep you warm; it gets cold out here at night."
Nicole looked at the steaming liquid but made no move to take it. Karen placed the cup down next to her. The flickering flames reflected in her sad eyes as her mind replayed the shards of moments shared with JC. Karen sighed, understanding the complexity of the emotions swirling within her.
Nicole eventually picked up the cup, the warmth now serving as a contrast to the cold tension surrounding them. Karen sighed again, a mix of sadness and concern evident in her expression. She decided to respect her need for silence and withdrew, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The crackling fire continued to cast dancing shadows across the quiet scene.
*****
Matt paced the living room, frustration etched across his face as he grumbled, "Do I fly out there? We should have fucking gone to the party." His protective instincts surged, imagining Nicole driving back alone from New Mexico. "She stopped answering her phone. What am I supposed to do?"
Candace leaned against the cool stone countertop in the kitchen, observing her husband's restless circuit of the living room. Glancing at her phone, she noted the unread messages she had sent Nicole. "Matt, babe, her phone is off. Joel is there; she's with his family. She probably doesn't want to talk," she reassured him.
"I'm going to fly there, and I'm going to fucking kill him."
"No, you aren't." Candace walked over and wrapped her arms around Matt, kissing him softly. "She's survived worse."
"Yeah, that's what I mean, babe," Matt's voice softened, weighed down by memories. "After Jason died, we were there for her, like, all the time. We practically moved in, you know? I hid knives!" The anger within him simmered again.
"It's not the same," Candace whispered, enveloping Matt in a comforting embrace. "And we will be there for her again."
"I wanted him to be the one," Matt mumbled into Candace's neck. "That pulled her out of the past."
"I think we all did."
The cell phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, interrupting their poignant moment. "Maybe that's her," Candace said, releasing her husband and making a beeline for the phone. But disappointment crossed her face as she read the screen.
"Is it her? Answer it," Matt demanded.
"No, it's... um, Kaylee," she mumbled awkwardly, and Matt turned back into the living room. She tapped the phone to pick up the call, but did not speak. She carefully eyed Matt, ensuring his attention was fixed elsewhere. She stepped back into the kitchen, slightly out of earshot, and whispered into the phone, "Hello? Josh?"
"Candace!" JC was grateful she answered. "Something happened..."
"Josh, I know what happened. What the hell were you thinking?"
"Candace please. I never meant for this to happen. I know I messed up, but I can't lose her."
Candace remained silent, glancing up to monitor Matt, who would lose it if he knew JC was on the line.
"Candace?" JC asked, confirming the call had not dropped.
"Yeah, I'm listening. I don't know what you want from me."
"Just help me. I need to make things right."
"Josh, for months she was your damn side chick, meanwhile she's thinking it's real."
"It is real!" He snapped, offended at Candace's insinuation. "I didn't plan any of it. I wasn't looking for anyone else. I wasn't trying to have an affair. She literally fell into my life. And when I'm with her, it's like I've never felt with anyone else. I can be myself, you know? And the other relationship-it's over." The silence at the other end of the phone was deafening. "Candace? You have to believe me."
"Josh, what am I supposed to do?"
"I'll do anything to fix this, Candace. If you could talk to her, and tell her to just hear me out, she will. She will listen to you. I just need her to know I didn't plan for this to happen."
"It's not about what you need right now. It's about what she needs and deserves. She gets to decide what comes next."
"Candace, I love her."
*****
Nicole remained by the fire. The minutes stretched in heavy silence, until Kaylee emerged from the house, her steps tentative as she held her phone. The concern in her eyes was a departure from their usual dynamic. It was the first flicker of kindness or understanding she had ever extended to Nicole. She paused, the glow of the fire playing upon the contours of her face, before gently offering the phone to Nicole. "Candace wants to talk to you, just to make sure you're okay," Kaylee explained. Each word carried an undercurrent of empathy, as if Kaylee had momentarily shed the layers of animosity that had defined their relationship.
Nicole's reluctance manifested in a simple shake of her head. She wasn't ready to confront the shards of her heart, scattered in the aftermath of JC's betrayal. Acknowledging Nicole's silent plea, Kaylee nodded understandingly. She put the phone up to her ear, and explained to Candace, that Nicole would call her later. She turned to go inside, leaving Nicole to the solitude of the fire's glow.
"I bet you're loving this." Nicole remarked. Her voice, tinged with bitterness, halted Kaylee in her tracks. "Watching my whole life just crumble right before your eyes. Is it as good as you hoped it would be?" The question hung in the air, a raw expression of the pain that had woven itself into Nicole's words.
Kaylee turned back, her expression softening. "No, Nicole. I'm not happy about any of this," she responded sincerely, her eyes revealing a depth of regret. "I really did think you knew. And that's the problem." Kaylee's admission was a vulnerable revelation. She sat down next to Nicole, their proximity fostering an unexpected honesty. "I thought you were awful; I wanted you to be you to be awful, so I thought you knew and didn't care." After a beat, she added, "I am a total fucking bitch."
Nicole nodded, a small smirk playing on her lips. "You are," she acknowledged, eying Kaylee sideways. The tension that had once defined their interactions seemed momentarily suspended.
Kaylee chuckled, breaking the heaviness of the moment, and wrapped an arm around Nicole, who accepted the embrace. In that shared vulnerability, the animosity that had fueled their relationship temporarily dissipated. "Kaylee, I don't have a family. Matt and Joel are as close as it gets. And, I don't mean to, or want to, stand in the way of you two. Can you trust that I am not trying to?"
"I'm sorry," Kaylee replied, her voice carrying genuine weight. "For everything." The fire's glow painting a scene of unexpected reconciliation in the midst of the chaos of the evening.
****
JC found himself alone in the quiet aftermath, surrounded by the echoes of his actions reverberating through the empty spaces. His phone, once a source of connection, lay on the coffee table. Multiple ignored calls and texts to Nicole gnawed accusingly; each unanswered attempt at reconciliation widening the gap that had opened between them.
The room seemed to close in on him as he sank into a plush chair, his face a canvas of remorse and regret. His fingers tapped nervously on the armrest as he debated whether to reach out again. The solitude and utter aloneness intensified the ache of abandonment, a familiar pain that JC had tried so desperately to escape.
He picked up the phone and dialed Nicole's number once more, but it didn't even ring, a poignant reminder of the unanswered connection he sought. In a desperate bid for some semblance of control, JC dialed his manager, Eric. The phone rang, and when Eric answered, JC's voice betrayed a vulnerability that contrasted with his public persona. "E, I need you to book me on the next flight from New Mexico back to LA. Now."
"Finally, you return a call," Eric criticized. "I told you New Mexico was dumb; I thought you drove."
"My car got stolen," JC was getting good at lying.
"What!" Eric's voice raised an octave.
"E, Please don't ask questions, just help me."
"I'll call you back when I have it sorted," and with that, Eric promptly ended the call. In the dimly lit room, JC's face was a portrait of a man coming to terms with the consequences of his choices, abandoned by the very connections he had falsely created.
