Conviction(85)
“Wouldn’t a phone call have been enough?” I ask.
“It would. I know it was just an excuse. She’s always wanted more, I told her from the very beginning that it was just sex, but she calls and texts continuously. Just about every time I see her I make it clear that she needs to stop that she’ll never mean anything to me,” he’s getting angry again as he speaks. “I’m sorry Meebs. I’m sorry for having such a f*cked up past and I’m sorry for all the shit that’s going on in the news about us right now. It pisses me off that they never give me a chance. That they never just come and ask me outright for the truth. They’ll print and report their made up stories and it won’t matter what I say or do afterwards, the public will only remember the shitty parts.” He stands up and starts to pace.
“Con, it’s okay. We’ll deal with it. We know the truth,” I try to reassure him.
“That’s not the point though, Meebs. You don’t know what they’re like. They won’t see us as people. They’ll just see us like a story. Their next headline. It scares me. I’ve dealt with their bullshit before, they know all of my secrets, but they’ll dig up everything they can on you, Meebs. Everything.” I watch the column of his throat move as he swallows hard. “I’m scared you’ll run. I’m scared you won’t be able to handle it. Just for once, I wish they’d see me as a person. One that’s capable of feelings, of loving and hurting. Then perhaps they’d see us as a couple in love, not a f*cking commodity. Just for once, I wish they’d see me for more than this, Meebs.” I recoil as he slaps himself, hard around the face. “And this.” He grabs at his crotch. “They think that that’s what I’m all about, that there’s nothing but my face and my reputation as someone who f*cks a lot of women. Someone who’s been to prison, who was in a car crash, trapped, upside down, watching as his brother took his last breath. That I’m someone that hid in the corner and watched as my mother’s pimp, dealer or whatever the f*ck he was squeezed her throat until the light went out of her eyes, which just happened to be looking at me at that moment.” I watch as he stands in front of me and wipes his nose across the back of his hand. My heart is breaking into so many tiny pieces as I witness his anguish, that I doubt that it’ll ever be whole again. “It’s always the shit, Meebs. They never see the good in me, only the shit and I’m so scared, so f*cking scared that eventually, one day, that’s all you’ll see too.”
My entire being hurts for him, my heart, lungs and bones, my hair and my skin. Everything that I am is in pain as the man I love bares his soul to me.
“I love you, Con. I love you so much and I’ll never leave. We’ll get through this. I swear I won’t run. We’ll stand and fight the f*ckers together. As long as I have you, Con, I can do that.”
He drops to his knees in front of me and puts his head in my lap. I rake my fingers through the hair of my poor broken rock star and try my hardest to make his world just a little bit better as he cries and I cry.
The birds start to sing, the sun eventually starts to rise, a new day dawns and we climb under the duvet still clinging to each other, cocooned from the outside world. Just me and him hanging on tight until sleep finally claims us.
Conner
I’ve given Matt two weeks off and drive Meebs and myself down to Cornwall, after causing a diversion to avoid the press hanging about outside the gates of our home. I bought the house here last year, but I haven’t visited it since and I want to give Meebs the opportunity to decorate it to her taste. I want her to feel like this is hers as much as mine.
Cornwall is the place that we were going to hide out when we ran away. We never made it, but it’s always held a special place in my heart. It’s the place that I spent the only holiday of my life with all of my family. I was around four, and it was straight after that my mum left my dad and moved myself and my brothers back to London. None of us then realising that within less than a year, our beautiful, funny, vibrant Mum would be dead.
The house overlooks the water in Truro and is fairly isolated, and apart from the odd meal out, I plan on keeping the pair of us locked away from the rest of the world.
Sunday was horrible. The papers running with stories ranging from the fact that I was some kind of pedo, to Meebs being a dirty little harlot, in absurdity.
We put out a joint statement saying the reports of an underage sexual relationship were pure fabrication. We admitted that yes, Nina had lost a baby, but that she was almost seventeen at the time. Other than that, we weren’t giving them anymore.
Meebs’ parents and her brother had called to add their opinions, but my girl had done me proud when she told them to f*ck off and mind their business. She’d told her brother that she knew exactly what he’d done to get her to marry Newman and that he’d better stay out of her life from here on out. I had a strong suspicion that her brother and/or husband were behind the press finding out about our relationship. They were always going to find out at some stage, but I’d just wanted more time to make sure we were solid before it all blew up.
I felt ashamed of my little breakdown in front of Meebs, but it also made me feel good… cleansed. She knew the truth. She knew about my f*cked up sexual encounters and she knew about my insecurities regarding the press and the public’s perception of me. She was also now aware of the fact that I was terrified that she’d leave me. She’s promised that will never happen and I’m going to make sure of that by asking her to be my wife sometime during this break. I know she’s not divorced yet but from today, I’ve got a little team on board finding out everything they can about Marcus Newman and Pearce Matthews. Hopefully by the end of this holiday, I’ll have something on Newman, which will convince him that he needs to sign those divorce papers, sharpish.