C8, PT. 2

Once she was sure she had the penthouse to herself, she refilled her cup and turned out the lights. There was enough illumination from the city to walk around without stubbing her toe. She retreated to the window seat and took in the view. She wriggled her toes. She wasn’t sure whether it was the post-orgasm glow, or that she made it back in time for Thanksgiving, but she was mellow and… happy? She shook her head as she sipped her coffee. She shouldn’t be. Things were far from perfect, but the greater part of her didn’t care. She was living in the moment.

Roth’s behavior during their flight back to New York kept Mo, Johan, and Sarai riveted. He was a changed man. Considerate and doting instead of preoccupied and impatient. He sat beside her, which she had always avoided in the past. When she wasn’t napping, he was all over her—or made sure she was on him, either sitting on his lap or straddling him. He carried her into the bathroom twice to have his wicked way with her, and casually mentioned that he bought a jet with a bedroom for their next trip when he climbed into bed that night.

He was a Roth she didn’t know he could be. Even in the early stages of their affair and as newlyweds, he maintained a serious demeanor. She had never expected him to change. This playful, indulgent side of him was devastating to her peace of mind. She wanted to believe this was the new him, but now that they were back in New York, she was afraid they would revert to their normal routines, habits, and comfort zones. He was already back to his hectic work schedule, which she had initially been happy about, but… How long would it take for the novelty of having a full-time wife to wane? For the calls checking in to cease?

She closed her eyes and willed away the anxiety. The urge to grab on with both hands, to nurture the fragile bond between them so it could blossom into something beautiful and vibrant, made her clutch her cup in a white knuckled grip. When he gave, it made her want to give back tenfold. She was scared of going overboard, of reading too much into his infatuation. This was temporary. She couldn’t forget that. He was right to put a time limit on their arrangement. Passion like this—overwhelming, white-hot, couldn’t go on forever. It was possible that they had an unhealthy fascination with one another because they spent so little time together the first time they married. Now that they would be around one another daily, their chemistry would dwindle and the invisible ties binding them so tightly to one another would finally loosen and fall away.

They had careers and separate paths they were meant to walk. He didn’t shy away from the press, interviews, magazine covers. He was like her father in that sense—using the media for his gain instead of letting them use him. Roth wanted to be featured prominently on Wall Street and in high society. That had been his goal from the start. She wanted nothing to do with that lifestyle and preferred the quiet countryside. She would take what she could get—savoring his sweetness and their time together, knowing they were headed toward a deadline.

She sighed and tipped her head back. Regardless of the state of her temporary marriage, she still had work to do. Yesterday, she read what she wrote in London—Rex and Juliet’s version of the unpleasant fight she and Roth had in his office their first night in London.

I played my hand. I wanted to see how far you would let me in. I didn’t expect you to be so accommodating.

She should have known reading the scene wasn’t a good idea and that it would trigger all her insecurities and make her second guess everything. She ignored two of Roth’s calls and regretted it when she got a text saying he was leaving work to check on her. When she called to tell him she was fine, he asked her what was wrong. She lied and said she misplaced her phone. “It’s been right next to you this whole time. You watched my calls come in,” he said. Fucking cameras. Would she ever get used to being under constant surveillance? She told a half-truth—that she was working and didn’t want to be distracted. She could tell he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push it. When they climbed into bed, he brought it up again. She reassured him she was preoccupied with work, AKA their alter egos, and it had nothing to do with him.

How the hell was she going to write the next book in the series while she was locked in this unconventional marriage of convenience with her ex? She could scrap what she’d written in London and take out the entire Rex reconciliation storyline, but then what? In the previous book, the main focus had been Juliet repairing her relationship with her father, interspersed with colorful sexcapades to offset the serious, emotional undertones. She planned for book five to be the finale, but couldn’t picture a fitting end for Juliet, who hadn’t made any serious connections throughout the years, just as she hadn’t in real life. The only recurring character was Rex, who drifted in at inopportune moments for comic relief or with an entertaining anecdote, when he periodically checked in on his ex-wife. After she and Roth reunited in Colorado, Rex came on stronger than he had in years, forcing a confrontation that caused Juliet to leave him stranded on the side of the highway. When she was in London, she continued the scene. Rex showed up at Juliet’s house to finish what he started—bringing their past, which had always been an off-limit topic, into the spotlight. He then proceeded to cross every boundary Juliet had laid down after she found him cheating on her and turned their platonic relationship back into a physical one.

Were Juliet and Rex meant to be together, or did Juliet deserve a fresh start with a man who hadn’t betrayed her trust and she didn’t have such a tumultuous history with? Unlike her, Juliet had a choice and didn’t have to follow her path. During her attempts to write after Dad died, she considered bringing back a past fling who had made a fortune and wanted a second shot. Or, she could introduce a new character. But, starting a relationship from scratch and ending with a wedding was cliché. Considering Juliet’s sexual liberty and the men she had been with, what would make this new love interest different from the rest? What would compel Juliet to give up her independence? A blonde Adonis with a heart of gold? A tall, dark, handsome stranger who had a heroic past who just needed some tender loving care to come out of his shell and be the man of her dreams? She grimaced. She could already hear the readers' vociferous, heated protests. They were dead set on Juliet and Rex being end game. Not to mention, Sarai would flip. Roth’s personal assistant wouldn’t understand why the series deviated so much from Jasmine’s real life. Sarai would only understand the fictional ending if she published after the divorce.

Her chest tightened. She couldn’t believe she was dreading their end when she begged him to let her go mere days ago. She told herself these obsessive feelings would pass. They couldn’t sustain itself. Which was a good thing since it was all-consuming and didn’t allow for much else.

She set her cup aside and redirected her mind to the only thing she should be thinking about. If she couldn’t work on the series that made her career, what the hell was she going to write? Everyone was expecting the finale to drop any day now, and she had nothing. She stalked through the penthouse as her mind turned over the problem. She didn’t have to write to support herself anymore, but writing had always been much more than a way to make money. Writing gave her a voice and a mental sanctuary to escape to when reality was too harsh. Juliet had been her anchor for seven years. Immersing herself in a fictional world where her counterpart conquered goals she was afraid to do in real life game her the courage to follow suit. She needed somewhere to retreat where she wasn’t weighted down by the Hennessy (or Roth) name and could be herself.

Stories were her way of connecting with people beyond the walls of her glass cage. In fiction, she could show the selfish, reckless, needy, foolish parts of her that her family couldn’t accept. Not being able to give her audience the conclusion they (and she) desperately wanted, created a divide when she needed them most. She had so much to get off her chest, so much she wanted to pass onto Juliet, but she couldn’t put it on the page. She didn’t dare. If she started to analyze her situation, if she looked too closely, she would unravel. Her only option was to switch to a project that had nothing to do with her life. Her readers were going to lose their ever-loving minds, but what choice did she have? Deep down, she’d known she had to put Rex and Juliet aside, but stubbornly believed she could be impartial about her father’s death and the recent developments between her and Roth. The truth was, she was so raw from the trauma of losing the only parent she’d ever known, her unexpected inheritance, Roth's forceful re-entry into her life, and all the revelations about her family that she couldn’t begin to process it all. She couldn’t sift through the ramifications and repercussions of past decisions and current choices when they were still evolving. Her only recourse was to latch onto another project to lose herself in to stay sane. She had to face facts—she couldn’t decide Juliet’s fate until she knew her own.

She dropped her robe outside of the shower and was distracted by Roth’s scent that hung in the air. She breathed him in and was annoyed by the flare of warmth and comfort it gave her. She didn’t want to want him. Even now, when things were good between them, she wanted to be able to block him out and enjoy their physical connection without tapping into the emotional. She stepped under the spray and imagined the water washing her worries away. She had to adapt and evolve. It was the only way she would survive.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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