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I sat on the floor for what felt like hours, but what was in reality only about 15 minutes. My mind went blank, and I couldn’t think about anything. It had all happened so fast, and I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, other than Orlando had left and there was nothing I could do about it. I was just contemplating getting up off the floor when someone knocked at the door.

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The following evening found me a wreck, trying to figure out what to wear, and how to fix my hair. I sat in front of the bathroom mirror for a good 15 minutes, staring at myself and imagining different looks. I finally decided on just leaving my hair down, and curling it with hot rollers. The dress I’d brought suddenly seemed all wrong, but I figured it would have to do. It was a deep royal blue, not too fancy, with wide straps at the shoulders and no sleeves, and a wrap-around top that crossed over my breasts, over an a-line skirt that came to just above my knees.

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Orlando wasn’t in the bed when I woke up the following morning, so I figured he’d gone to the press conference for Elizabethtown already. After what had happened the night before, I was glad he wasn’t there. I needed some space, some time to think about what was going on and how I felt about it. I got up slowly, stretched, and went into the sitting room.

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“Oh my God, what happened?” Aunt Tess said as she opened the door. “Charlotte, what’s going on?”

“Her flat was destroyed,” Orlando said quietly, sitting me at the kitchen table. Aunt Tess put on the kettle for tea, then sat beside me.

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We spent the next two days cleaning up my apartment. I didn’t bother replacing the furniture yet, since I wouldn’t be staying there for awhile anyway. The Wicked producers were providing a place for me in New York, so I didn’t have to pay for one, and I wanted to keep my apartment for when I came back. Dad said he would take care of the insurance claim while I was in New York. The only thing I really had to replace were my clothes, half of which were ruined. Oh well, it was an excuse to go shopping.

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When we were back in the car, on the highway, heading home, I decided to bring up what had happened with Joanne.

“Orlando, Joanne had bruises on her,” I said quietly, looking down at my hands.

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I went back into the living room, where Orlando sitting on the sofa, leafing through my Wicked script. I kneeled down in front of him and ran my hands up and down his legs.

“Hey, you,” I said softly, feeling such tenderness as I looked up at him that it scared me.

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By the time we got home, the fire had cooled a bit, but the want was still there. He took my hand and we went into the house. Aunt Tess was sitting at the kitchen table as we made for the stairs. We called goodnight and she winked at me as I passed. I followed Orlando upstairs.
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