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I didn’t talk to Orlando again for at least a month after our conversation that night. I went back to work, and really had to put everything I had into the show, just to keep from collapsing. Sleep was still sporadic for me, and I still cried far to easily, but it got easier as each day passed.

When the landlord of the apartment building Orlando and I were supposed to be moving into called me a couple of weeks after our phone call, I wasn’t exactly sure what to tell him. He wanted to know when we’d be moving in, and since I didn’t know the terms of the lease, or what the penalty would be for not standing by it, I just said I’d have Orlando call him as soon as possible. Then I spent the next two days in a fog so thick, I’m not even sure I went to work. The idea that our wonderful apartment was empty, and that we’d never get to live in it, was almost more than I could take, but I managed to get myself through it.

Word finally got out about Orlando and I splitting up, and it wasn’t a pleasant backlash. The tabloids were ruthless, printing old pictures of us fighting, horrible pictures of him at parties and promotional events, and random shots of me doing every-day things, with captions like, “What went wrong?” and “The Bloom is off the rose.” Reporters camped out in front of the theatre and my apartment building on a daily basis, and it got to the point where I couldn’t even walk to work anymore. I had to go out the back door and into the waiting car that Nick had arranged for me. Having my heartbreak splashed all over the world like that was just the icing on the cake.

Lisa, Jeremy, and Adam were wonderful during the media backlash, though. They seemed to be taking turns in amusing me, or baby-sitting me, as I’d started to think of it. They never wanted me to be alone, and were always trying to get me involved in whatever they were doing. I spent hours playing with Adam and his boys, or sitting in Jeremy’s living room, watching movies with them. Lisa and I had ‘girls’ nights’ every few days, and the company really did seem to help. The pain hurt a lot less when I was distracted, and I was grateful for that.

I found myself alone one night, about a month after I’d last talked to Orlando. I went home after the show, since Lisa had gone out for drinks with Jeremy and his mother, and Adam had taken his wife to dinner to discuss their boys. The answering machine light was flashing when I walked in the door, so I threw my purse on the sofa, hit the button, and went into the kitchen for tea.

“Charlie, it’s me,” Orlando’s voice came from the machine. I put the kettle down and went back into the living room, sitting on the sofa beside the machine, staring at it as though it had three heads. “I haven’t heard from you in awhile, and I wanted to see how you were holding up. I’m in New York for the weekend, if you want to get together for drinks or something. I hope everything is well with you.” He paused. “I love you.” He sighed. “Call me back when you get the chance.” The machine beeped as the message ended.

I played his message over and over again until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Even though it was after midnight, I picked up the phone and dialed his cell.

“I wondered if you’d call me back,” he answered almost immediately. There was quite a bit of noise in the background, so it was hard to hear him.

“I wasn’t going to,” I said, not wanting him to think I was desperate or something. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just finishing dinner with some friends,” he said, talking loudly to be heard over the noise. “Are you going to be home for awhile?”

“Maybe,” I said slowly. “Why?”

“Damn it, Charlie,” he said, sounding exasperated. “It’s been over a month since I’ve seen you, it might be nice for us to sit down and talk.”

I hesitated. “Orlando, I don’t know what you want from me,” I said finally. “I’m not ready to forgive you, and you being here will only make things worse.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, annoyed. “Well, I left some stuff at your place and I’d like to pick it up tonight. Is that better?”

I thought about the box of his things that I’d put in the bottom of my closet. I wasn’t sure I was ready for them to be gone yet. “I guess that’s okay,” I said after a minute. “I’ll be here.”

“Give me half an hour,” he said, the annoyance gone from his voice.

I agreed, told him to use his key and come up the back way to avoid the photographers in front of the building, and hung up. I sat there for a few minutes, looking at the phone in my hands, fighting the urge to call him back and tell him not to come. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to face him yet. Part of me wanted to just jump into his arms, kiss his beautiful face, and forget the whole thing ever happened, but I knew that wouldn’t work. I resolved not to give in to him, no matter how amazing he looked, or how much I ached to be in his arms. There wasn’t anything else I could do.

I went back into the kitchen and finished preparing my tea, then went into the bedroom and pulled the box of Orlando’s things from the closet. He’d left quite a bit of clothing, mainly because he’d assumed he’d be coming back as soon as the Pirates promotional stuff was over. There was also shampoo, some of his necklaces, a few pictures, a bottle of cologne, his tooth brush, his pillow, and some other small things. It was all normal, every-day stuff, and yet I suddenly felt like I couldn’t bear to part with it. Against my better judgment, I pulled a dark green knit sweater from the box and held it to my face, inhaling deeply. It hadn’t been washed since he’d worn it, and it smelled like him. Tears sprang into my eyes as I breathed in his scent, and my whole body ached with longing. I quickly tucked the sweater under my pillow and carried the box into the living room.

When the knock came at the door a short while later, I forced myself not to jump up and run to it. I took a last sip of my tea, rose from the sofa, and went to answer it. My hand was shaking as I reached for the doorknob.

Orlando stood in the hallway, an unsure expression on his face. He looked beautiful in grey jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a black sweater. His hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and the stubble was gone from his face. He seemed more relaxed and more rested than he had on TV recently, and I was glad to see it.

“Hi,” I whispered, my hand clenching and unclenching on the edge of the door. “Do you want to come in?” I stepped back to he could enter. It felt weird to be inviting him in, when only a month ago he’d practically been living there.

“So formal,” he muttered, shaking his head as he passed me and went into the living room. I sighed and closed the door behind him.

“Your stuff is in that box,” I said, pointing to it on the floor beside the sofa. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted and what you didn’t, so I threw it all in.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly, looking inside the box. He refused to meet my eyes. “So, have you been keeping busy?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “The show takes up a lot of time,” I said, shrugging. He seemed so unsure of himself. “How about you?”

It was his turn to shrug. “The promo stuff is almost done now,” he said. “We’ll be filming again soon, so I’ll be going back to St. Vincent’s.”

“Orlando, why won’t you look at me?” I asked, taking a few steps closer to him, but still maintaining a safe distance. I didn’t trust myself to be any nearer than that.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice so soft I almost didn’t hear him.

“Avoiding me isn’t going to make this easier,” I pointed out gently.

Finally he dragged his eyes to my face. There were tears in his eyes. I had to look away.

“Charlie,” he whispered, coming to stand right in front of me. When I tried to back away, he grabbed my arms lightly to stop me.

“Orlando, don’t,” I said, choking on the lump that was forming in my throat. “Please, just don’t.”

“I keep hoping I’ll wake up and this will all have been some bad dream,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine. I could smell the wine on his breath, see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and it made my knees tremble and my stomach knot up. I still wanted him, there was no denying that.

“It’s not a bad dream,” I said, pulling back slightly. “It’s very real, and it sucks.”

A small grin crept over his lips, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. His hands moved up and down my arms, rubbing lightly, and I felt myself lean into him ever-so-slightly.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Charlie,” he said, his hands sliding up over my neck and into my hair. I wanted to jerk away from him, to tell him to keep his hands to himself, but my mind couldn’t make my mouth form the words.

“Yes, it does,” I managed to whisper, trying to ignore how good his fingers felt on my skin. “You slept with someone else, Orlando. I can’t just forget that and move on.” I hoped saying the words aloud would help me remember why we couldn’t be together anymore, but he was too close, his touch felt too good. I had to get away from him.

I pushed his hands away and turned my back to him, taking deep breaths to slow my racing heart and calm the quivering in my knees. I’d known this was a bad idea, and yet I still felt like I needed to see him. Now that he was standing in my living room, I wanted to be anywhere but there.

“What are you thinking, love?” he whispered, and I felt him behind me, his hands on my waist, pulling me back against him. I resisted, shoving his hands away as roughly as I could manage, but he simply put them back and placed a gentle kiss on the side of my neck. Electricity raced from that spot through the rest of me, and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“I’m thinking you’re too close,” I said, my voice hoarse and shaky. “I can’t handle this right now.”

“Do you want me to leave?” His hot breath tickled my neck as his arms tightened around me. I stood as straight as I could to avoid leaning back into his body. I knew that would be my undoing.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. My mind was screaming that he should probably go before he became any harder to resist, but my body wanted to stay where I was, wanted his hands on me, wanted him pressed against me. I felt like I would explode with the indecision of it. “I can’t think with you this close to me.”

Abruptly, he pulled away. I was disoriented for a second as I adjusted to his warmth being gone, then I took a deep breath and turned around to face him.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes. The pain of what he’d done was rising in me, and that, alongside the pain of living without him, was making my whole body ache with sadness. The month since I’d last seen or talked to him had been the longest of my life, and now that I was just getting to the point where I thought I could face the future alone, here he was, opening the wound again, making it bleed afresh.

“Don’t cry, love,” he whispered, reaching out to smooth away the tear that had trickled down my cheek. At his gentle touch, more tears followed, and soon I was crying openly, unable to stem the tide. He gathered me against him and rocked me back and forth as I cried. “Shhh, it’s okay,” he soothed over and over again. When I looked up into his face, I saw that he was crying as well.

I pressed my face into his shoulder briefly, then pulled away from him. “You have no right to cry,” I snapped, dashing my hand across my face to clear the last of the tears. The sadness had gone, and was replaced by a burning rage. “You did this, Orlando. It’s because of you that everything is so fucked up. Don’t you dare shed a tear about this. You made the choice to sleep with that whore, and now we’re both paying the consequences. I’m glad you’re in pain right now, because it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling.”

He looked shocked for a second, and the tears stopped. He wiped his face on his sleeve. “I made a mistake,” he said after a few seconds. “It was stupid, and it was thoughtless, and you’re right, I deserve whatever I’m feeling right now. Do you know how many times I’ve wished it had never happened? How many nights I’ve laid awake, wishing you were beside me, wishing that I hadn’t been such a complete and utter asshole? When I close my eyes, I see your face, Charlie, how hurt you were when I told you, and it rips me apart inside. What makes it worse is the fact that I’m the one who caused it, I’m the one who hurt you, when I promised I never would. I don’t blame you if you never forgive me for it.”

I didn’t know what to say. My eyes lingered on his face, my heart breaking all over again at how distraught he looked. A little voice in the back of my mind whispered that maybe he’d suffered enough, and that I could forgive him now. But the rational part of my brain kept telling me to stay firm, that he’d cheated once, so he’d probably do it again in the future. The distrust I’d thought was completely absent from our relationship was bubbling on the surface, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push it away. I just didn’t trust him, and because of that, I couldn’t be with him.

“I think you need to leave,” I said slowly. “I can’t be near you right now. Take your box of stuff, and go, okay? Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

He looked so crestfallen, I wanted to take it back and tell him to stay. I wanted to hug him against me and make all the pain go away, for both of us, but it wasn’t that simple.

“If that’s what you want,” he said. He turned and picked up his box. “I never thought it would be like this with us, love.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted, wrapping my arms around myself to stop from shaking. “But this is how it has to be for now.”

He went to the door, then stopped and turned to me again. “I love you, Charlie,” he said, a single dear sliding over his cheek. Against my better judgment I went to him and smoothed it away.

“I know,” I said, cupping his face in my hands. I placed a gentle kiss on his lips, my tears mingling with his. “But it’s not enough anymore, Orlando. I’m sorry, it’s just not.”

“Can I call you sometime?”

“Give me some more time,” I said, opening the door for him. “Maybe it won’t always be this hard.”

“Good-bye, Charlie.”

“Good-bye, Orlando.” I shut the door behind him, collapsed on the floor in front of it, and broke into tears.