“Call Gary. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help.”

I heard the familiar noise of the cash register tape cycling, grinding like the decrepit old-timer that it was.

One more thing in the

bar that needs to be replaced.

“Yeah, right. He hasn’t talked to me since we got back from ll.A. and to be honest, I couldn’t care less if he ever does. I’m sick of him.”

“Why? What happened?” I heard Ryan drop something in the bathroom and it made me flinch. Sounded like the can of shaving cream hitting the tiled floor.

“Ah, remember that guy from the

Reparation after-party who thought I was a casting agent? Nate—the hottie with the incredible ass?”

I drew a vivid picture in my mind. Tall, dark brown hair. Wide shoulders with a narrow waist. Total

GQ material. “Yeah. So what? Is Gary mad because you were talking to some guy?”

“Yep. When we got back to our room we got into a huge fight. He completely flipped out on me, told me I was flirting like a whore and stuff. It got . . . it got pretty ugly.” I swallowed hard, picturing Gary’s anger potential at its worst.

I’ll kill him if he laid a

hand on her. “How ugly?” A few beats of silence passed. “Marie, did he hit you?”

She sighed. “No, although for a moment I wasn’t sure—he was

that angry. He said he wasn’t happy anymore and he . . . he said he wants a divorce.”

I felt my heart clench and I gasped. “Oh my God! No! What did you say?” I heard her take a deep breath. “I told him if that’s what he wants, I’m gone. It’s not like this hasn’t been brewing for a while now.”

Oh, shit. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“What’s to say? You know how he is.

When I try to talk to him about what’s bothering me he shuts down or ignores me. We got into a huge fight even before we left for ll.A. after I found out that he spent

another three thousand dollars out of our account to buy another crappy car to fix up. When I told him I was mad that he bought it without discussing it with me first, he reminded me of how much more money he earns, and then he had the audacity to tell me to shut the fuck up.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, I’m not. He’s been . . . I don’t know. I think he’s seeing someone else.” I felt like freaking out. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m not sure but I have that gut feeling, you know? He’s just being really weird, yelling at me all the time. About three weeks ago, he said he was going out drinking with his friend, Tony, but he never came home.

He said he crashed at Tony’s but I’m pretty sure that was a lie. He’s never done that before and he got all pissed-off when I asked him about it. All I know is that I can’t take it anymore. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been staying in your apartment the last couple of nights.”

Now I really felt like crap for telling her about Ryan’s second proposal. I was so wrapped up in my own little world that I had no clue she was suffering.

“Marie, you’re my best friend. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks. Anyway, Pete looked at the cooler. Said the compressor is shot. When we got back, the floor was all wet. I called for prices on a new one.”

I didn’t care about the damn cooler.

“Wait. So, what . . . are you leaving him?” She huffed. “I don’t know, but I can’t live this way anymore, Taryn. He’s miserable.

He’s making me miserable. He’s been avoiding me more and more, barely speaking to me.”

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

I heard her tears crack. “You mind if I stay with you for a while?”

Her heartbreak was breaking my heart.

“No, of course I don’t mind. You can stay with me as long as you want.” I cursed inwardly, furious that Gary would do this to her and even more angry with myself for strapping her with all of my responsibilities while she was all alone.

“Oh, some lady from United Fidelity Bank called for your dad. Said something about a letter and him owing late fees for a safe-deposit box rental? I have her number. But just so you know, we’ve stopped answering the telephone. I’m trying to screen through the messages, but there are too many.” I groaned. Dealing with my parents’ estate, and the unrelenting press as well, was a never-ending battle. “I have to get back there.”

“No, you need to enjoy the ride for once and take care of you and Ryan and let other people handle this.”

“I hate that I’m not there for you.”

“Tar, you are. You are. Please don’t think that.”

I leaned up against the wall next to the French doors leading out to the balcony, mesmerized by the breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower glowing in the darkened sky. My mother had dreamed of seeing the tower her whole life but never did.

After I said goodbye and ended our call, I felt horrible for abandoning everything on her so I could be absent and carefree, running around the globe when she needed me the most.

But in a big way, having someone to take care of the bar was a huge relief, giving me a much-needed break from a life that I didn’t choose.

I knelt down to straighten up the mess Ry-an made when he dumped his backpack on the floor. The section of the newspaper he was reading on the plane was crumpled in the pile.

Curious, I paged through it, stopping on an article about another famous actor. I remembered distinctly that this was the last page Ryan read because shortly thereafter he appeared to be irritated by something and crammed the newspaper roughly into his pack. Right after that he laced his fingers tightly with mine. I thought maybe

Reparation had gotten a bad review, but there was nothing else in this section of the paper that had anything to do with anything in our lives.

As I perused the story, my breath caught.

The article stated that the couple had ended their four-year relationship, citing that their busy careers took them in different directions, ultimately causing their demise.

I glanced over at Ryan as he snapped the elastic band of fresh black boxer briefs around his waist, allowing me another de-lectable view of his chiseled abs. Could this be the reason why he was upset earlier?

Four years. That’s as far as they made it in their high-profile relationship. Four measly years. Perhaps in their eyes it was long enough. In my mind, ending a relationship after four years would mean a very deep scar would be left behind, bringing the kind of heartache and devastation that’s sure to kill a huge piece of your soul.