Page 78 of Untether

‘Yeah. They’re the worst.’

‘They really are. But it felt like that was happening all the time, just in real life and live on air in front of millions of people. So I pulled back. The BBC was amazing about it, and they supported my decision.’

‘I read a book about a guy who that happened to.’ I attempt to wrack my brain for the name. ‘He had a full-blown panic attack live on air. It sounded horrifying. He was a US news anchor, but think it was drugs-related.’

‘Yeah, Dan Harris. I read that too.10% Happier.It’s a great book—hilarious in some ways.’

‘He was funny as fuck,’ I agree. ‘But you’re always incredible onCentre Stage. You always seem so on it.’

‘Aww, thanks. Well, I’ve been on hormones for a few months now, and they’ve helped me get some of that clarity back, thank God. It’s also easier on that show than on the news—I’m way more in the zone, I’m better prepped, and there’s less chance of being blindsided, I guess. And, obviously, it’s recorded a few hours in advance, which makes all the difference in my head.’

‘I’m sorry you’ve had a tough time of it, though,’ I tell her. I really am. She’s so smart, so able. Her brain is her thing: she’s known for her lucidity, her razor-sharp mind. For her to have felt like she was losing her mind must have been nothing short of terrifying. ‘That and the whole divorce—what a fucking year.’

She laughs. ‘What afuckingyear. Amen to that. I was struggling before John’s fuck-fest even went public, but when a huge crisis hits like that, you think that’s to blame for everything. I couldn’t see beyond it, you know?

‘I thought I was depressed and weepy and preoccupied because my husband was cheating and the paparazzi was stalking me, but it turns out there were a whole host of deeper issues that made things far worse. And had I been aware of them or treated them, I could maybe have had more resilience. As it was, my capacity for dealing with that whole shit storm was pretty fucking limited.’

She wipes a tear off her cheek angrily. ‘Fuck’s sake. I thought I was done with my pity party. I’m so—I’m embarrassed. Sorry.’

‘Hey.’ I scoot my chair closer and wrap both my hands around hers. ‘Why on earth would you be sorry? You’reamazing—you’ve had the worst year ever, and you’re still going strong. You’re out there, building your career, nailing every sleazy politician to his own cross and holding them accountable, and you’re pushing all your own boundaries with thisParadisestuff. You’re my hero.’

She gives me a watery smile and sniffs. ‘I’m sorry because we’re supposed to be having fun tonight, and here I am, being Debbie Downer.’

‘No you’re not. You’re being human, and you’re letting me in, which I appreciate more than you know,’ I tell her. It’s true. She’s a fortress, and sometimes the age gap between us feels far more than a decade when I think about how much actual adulting we both do.

Unlike when I get her on a bed, when everything feels equal and right and perfect.

‘Besides,’ I tell her with a trademark Cal wink, ‘we’re definitely going to have fun tonight, baby.’

That gets me a wider smile, one that reaches right to the stunning dark eyes that sparkle with unshed tears.

‘This is why you’re so good for me,’ she tells me, squeezing my hands. ‘Honestly, you and my little guys are by far the best things about this year.’

‘Yeah?’ I ask, and yes, I’m shamelessly digging. ‘Why am I good for you, again?’

She runs her tongue over her lower lip in that way I love before answering. ‘You make me smile,’ she says. ‘You lighten me up. You’re such a warm, open-hearted person. It’s infectious, you know that? And’—her mouth twists—‘you have certain skills that, when you employ them, make me lose my fucking mind, in agoodway, this time. Like, a really, really good way. You make me feel sexy and desirable and strong, like I’m not some broken, faded old hag. Instead, I’m this woman who’s brave enough to gaze into the darkestparts of herself and trusting enough to hand the keys over to someone who can take her to places she never thought she’d visit.’

She swallows. ‘Places that are more extraordinary and transformational than she could ever have imagined. I don’t know who the fuck I am with you, but I like her a lot. And helping me find her is the best gift you could ever have given me.’ She lowers her voice. ‘So thank you.’

There are so many things I have to say. So many words I could use to describe how angry and betrayed I feel on her behalf, how brimming I am with admiration, how conflicted I’ve felt.

I could tell her she’s simply the most incredible woman I’ve had the privilege of laying eyes on.

I could tell her how much my desire to take her, control her, fracture her into pieces haunts me, because it makes me wonder if I’m some kind of pathetic, misogynous monster who gets off on subduing women who are eminently more impressive than him.

But she’s sitting here telling me that my twisted appetites work for her. That they help. That, by some fucked-up alchemy, the things she’s let me do to her are as freeing for her as they are for me.

So, yes, there are a million things I can say in this moment.

But all I need are two words.

‘Come here.’

50

AIDA

Come here.

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