"What?" Does he not love me anymore or something? What did I do?
"You'll be safer there. I'm sorry. I love you." His eyes met mine, and then he leaned in and kissed me, our tears joining each other on our cheeks, I watched his blurry form leave behind the pooled tears still in my eyes. I don't know how long I sat there before I got up and packed, stealing things like t-shirts and CD's from him without even realizing. I left the house still crying, which I did through the entire flight. I'd left a goodbye note to Liss, Rose, and Kat. In the limo I cleaned myself up and composed myself. I sat through the meeting in a catatonic state, and then the limo took me to a mansion. The driver handed me a set of keys and an iPhone. I said thank you and walked in. Without looking around I found the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, the crying had started again.
It took me a week to get out of bed; my agent knew what had happened apparently, because she came over every day and made sure I ate something. After that week, I decided I was done with the tears. I pulled myself together and threw myself into work. My agent was Abigail, and she'd known all along what brought me to her. I had a busy schedule; she was trying to get me in at least one film before awards season in six months. I didn't mind the busyness though; it gave me less time to think. As soon as she left I 'went exploring'; looking through my house. It was huge and spacious, with several guest rooms and an open living room/dining room that connected to the kitchen. I had expensive black leather couches with fluffy red pillows that matched the bold walls. It was perfectly decorated. One of the rooms was done in an almost oceanic theme, light blues and whites dominating the colour scheme, another was sunshine yellow. Each guest room had a nice en-suite bathroom and a walk-in closet. There was a huge office; a large mahogany desk surrounded by filled bookshelves, behind the desk was a wonderful view of the California coast. The walls were a deep, rich red. The third guest bedroom was white, white linens, white bedframe, glass desk with a white computer, white drapes that, cornily enough, blew in the slight breeze coming from the open patio door. There were a few other guest rooms and a huge master. This room had beautiful purple walls and matching linens, a California king bed sat between two deep cherry nightstands. The wall in front of it was a huge closet beside an en-suite washroom with a Jacuzzi tub and huge walk-in shower that was basically a small room on its own. The wall to the left had a large desk, a purple laptop sat on it. The wall to the right of it was merely a huge window, with a sliding door that blended in phenomenally. Outside was a peaceful garden, with flowers blooming in every colour imaginable. The garden had white benches and a wooden swing, hanging from a small, but strong tree. It overlooked the ocean and the beach below. It was breathtaking. There was a pool downstairs as well as a hot tub, sauna, and personal gym. The house also had a walk-up to the beach.
After a few weeks I was exhausted, and I missed him, but I was getting used to being alone. For the past week, I'd been getting sick a lot, and I had cravings for the weirdest things. I dropped the toast I'd had in my hand, and started counting. Shit. I grabbed my keys and ran to the 'million car garage' and jumped into the first one I saw. I drove to the nearest pharmacy.
After five minutes of waiting at home I looked down at the tiny little plus on the stick. Shit.