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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.

The small table in the corner was set up with a tray, a rose, and a note on it. I wrapped my robe around me and sat down, smiling to myself. I lifted the lid from the tray and found French toast, and there was a teapot on the table as well, with a cup holding a teabag. I reached for the note.

“Charlie,” it read, “I didn’t want to wake you this morning because I wasn’t sure how to face you after what happened last night. We didn’t finish what we started, and we didn’t solve anything. I hope you’ll think about what I said, and allow us to explore whatever this is between us. When I woke up this morning and saw you sleeping next to me, it felt right, and I knew that’s where you should be. I know we both have demanding careers, but that will settle eventually and we can be together. If you want me to wait until then, that’s what I’ll do. But know this, my darling, I’m not giving up on us yet, and I don’t want you to, either. I’ll take the two weeks you’re offering me and I’ll make the most of them, but that can’t be it. Enjoy your breakfast, love, and I’ll see you when I get back later. Always, Orlando.”

I read the note through twice before setting it back on the table beside the rose. He wasn’t about to let this drop, and I wanted more than anything to give in. But, truth be told, I didn’t want to get to New York and be pining away for him while I was supposed to be concentrating on the show. Of course, I knew I’d be pining anyway, missing him either way, so what difference did it make, really? Missing him was one thing, but waiting and counting the days until I could see him again, that was another, and something I didn’t want to do. I wanted to be able to embrace my new surroundings without worrying about someone else in the background. I know it’s selfish, but I couldn’t justify going to New York with a boyfriend, even one as amazing as Orlando, holding me back. I had to make him realize that before we got hurt any more, before he actually fell in love with me.

I really had to think about those words and what they meant. He was falling in love with me. He was falling in love with me. I hadn’t expected that, but I felt shivers race up and down my spine as I replayed him saying it. But was I falling in love with him? Or better yet, would I let myself fall in love with him? The whole idea made me wonderfully giddy and totally terrified, all at the same time.

When Orlando returned a couple hours later, I still wasn’t sure what to say to him. He came into the room and I was curled up on the bed with my Wicked script, waiting for him, like I had been the night before. I smiled softly as he came over to me.

“Did you enjoy your breakfast?” he asked, sitting beside me. I set my script down and hugged my knees to my chest.

“I did, thank you,” I said, my stomach doing flip-flops. We couldn’t make small-talk forever. “How was the press conference?”

“It was fine,” he said, pulling my legs across his lap and gently rubbing my feet. “There’ll be about a thousand pictures of it all over the Internet tomorrow.” He grinned slightly. “Did you get my note?”

“Yes,” I said, wanting to pull my feet away from him, but it felt too good. “Do you think it’s fair of me to ask you to wait for me?”

“I don’t care,” he said, his thumbs working gently on my left heel. “You need time to make your dreams happen, and I’m willing to give you that.”

“You deserve someone who’ll be with you now, someone who will appreciate you for who and what you are,” I said, resting my hand on his leg. “I can’t let you put yourself on hold because I have dreams to fulfill.”

“You’re not letting me do anything,” he said, moving to my toes. “I just don’t want to be with anyone else right now, that’s all.”

“Right now,” I repeated. “You could meet someone else at any time, and things could change in the blink of an eye.”

“Not if I don’t want them to.”

“What about us?” I said, finally pulling my feet away. “Everything happened so fast with us, who’s to say it won’t happen again with someone else? For either of us?”

“If I had been with someone when we met, it wouldn’t have happened,” he said simply, shrugging. “But I wasn’t, and you weren’t, and the timing was right. If we’re in a relationship, whether we see each other every day or not, that closes the door to anything new.”

“Exactly the problem.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to a new city, a new life, and I don’t know if I want to have someone in the background, holding me back from doing what I want to do,” I said, trying to be honest with him.

“You want to sleep around?” He sounded shocked, and rightly he should have been.

“That’s not what I mean,” I said, crossing my legs under me. “If I want to go out and have a good time, I don’t want to feel guilty that you’re not with me. If I want to dance in a club or go to dinner or something like that, and there happens to be other men around, I can’t be worrying about what you’ll think. It’s incredibly selfish, I know, but I can’t help it.”

“You make it sound like there’s no trust between us,” he said, a hurt look on his face. “I know you wouldn’t do anything with anyone else, and if you want to go out and have fun, please do.”

“It’s not that simple,” I said. “I also don’t want to be worrying about who you’re with or what you’re doing with them. You’re Orlando Bloom, for God’s sake, you have women throwing themselves at you, as the premiere last night made very clear. A man gets lonely sometimes, I understand that, and then he cheats. I can’t have that in the back of my mind, I can’t be jealous like that.”

“Then don’t be,” he said, taking my hands. “If I’m with you, that’s all there is to it. Again, it’s about trust, and you need to learn to trust me.”

“I trusted Ramsey, and look what he did,” I said, unable to stop the words before they came out. Though I tried to shrug it off, and though I really couldn’t stand him anymore, Ramsey’s betrayal still hurt, and I didn’t want to go through that again. If I couldn’t keep a jerk like Ramsey satisfied, how would I ever manage to keep Orlando interested in me? And, to top it all off, Ramsey had been just a few blocks from me most of the time, and he’d cheated, but Orlando would be half a world away. That made it so much harder to trust him.

“I’m not Ramsey,” he said, his voice low. He sounded as though he were speaking to a child. “Ramsey is a prat, plain and simple. What he did was wrong, and not something I’ll ever do. Believe me.”

“That’s easier said than done,” I said, shaking my head. “Can’t we just be friends when this is over?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you in my life, yes, but I can’t have you as a boyfriend,” I said. I looked into his eyes and saw that I was hurting him, but I couldn’t do anything about it. “We can be friends, if that’s okay with you.”

He sighed and squeezed my hands. “If that’s all you’re willing to give me, then yes, we can be friends.” He moved closer to me on the bed. “But for now, we’re together, right?”

“Right.”

He leaned over and kissed me, a passionate, yet gentle, kiss. I finally felt like we’d solved the problem, so I gave in to that kiss, I let myself feel what I was feeling, I didn’t try to push it away. I wasn’t going to lose him when our time was up, and that thought made me happy. I could handle being his friend.

* * *

Over the next few days, Orlando gave interviews, and even did an appearance for MuchMusic, the Canadian answer to MTV. I spent a lot of time alone during the day while he worked, but I didn’t mind. We spent our evenings in the room, with movies, or just each other, and I must say, they were some of the best times I’ve ever had.

We were all set to return to Kitchener the Sunday after his Elizabethtown press conference, and we only had four days left. We packed up our bags and drove back to my apartment that afternoon. Though the hotel had been lovely, I missed my own space, and wanted to go home. I didn’t know how I’d survive eight months in New York if I missed home this much after only a week. I just hoped that when I was working on the show, I’d be too busy to think about it.

“Home sweet home,” I said as I unlocked the door to my apartment. I stopped dead when I opened the door. Everything was trashed! My bookshelves were face-down on the floor, all of the books that had been on them were strewn everywhere, with pages ripped out. My sofa had a big gash in it, with the white stuffing falling out, the TV was on the floor, smashed in, and my stereo was in pieces, the speakers slashed. The only thing that seemed to be untouched in the living room was my piano, which I was thankful for.

“What the bloody hell happened here?” Orlando said as he came in behind me and set down our bags. “Charlie, we need to ring the police.” He handed me his cell phone.

After I’d called the police, we went through the apartment to see what else was ruined. My clothes were all over the bedroom, some sliced up, some not. My mattress was untouched, thank God, but my bedding was a wreck, ripped to shreds. The kitchen wasn’t too bad, with just a few plates and glasses broken on the floor, and some food thrown around out of the cupboards. We didn’t dare touch anything until the police arrived to take pictures and dust for finger prints. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long.

“Have you been in the bathroom?” one of the officers asked, after a quick check through the apartment.

“Not yet,” I said. “Why?”

“You should look at the mirror.”

I went into the bathroom, Orlando still holding my hand, and saw that the word “Bitch” was scrawled across the mirror in my red lipstick. I vaguely noticed that my shower curtain was shredded.

“We’ll need to get a list of people who could have done this,” the officer said as we went back into the living room. “You said nothing was stolen, so it’s not a robbery, it’s vandalism.”

Orlando squeezed my hand, and when I looked up at him, I could see he was angry. He knew as well as I did who had done this.

“Ramsey Neilson,” I said quietly to the officer. “He’s shown up before when I was here and he can get pretty violent.”

“Did you ever report him?”

I shook my head. “I never saw the need. He was loud and obnoxious, but I didn’t think he could do something like this.”

“How do you know him, Ms. Madison?” The officer was scribbling furiously on his clipboard.

“We used to date,” I said, ashamed that I had let such a monster into my life.

“Used to?”

“Yes,” I said, and felt Orlando’s arm slip around my waist. I was on the verge of tears. “We broke up a while ago.”

“Okay, we’ll need to get a statement from both of you about this, but for right now we need to do some more work here. Do you have a place to stay?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, figuring we could stay with Aunt Tess or something. I certainly couldn’t bring Orlando to my father’s house.

“Why don’t you give us a number where we can reach you, and we’ll be in touch when we’re finished here?” The officer handed me his card. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

Orlando picked up our bags, the only clothes I had that weren’t part of the crime scene, and we went into the hall. I used his cell phone to call Aunt Tess.

“Hey, sweetheart!” she said brightly when she answered the phone. “How was Toronto?”

“Fine,” I said tightly. “Can Orlando and I stay with you for a couple days?”

“Of course, baby,” she said, concern in her voice. “What’s the matter?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” I said, and hung up.

I allowed Orlando to lead me to the car, very thankful he was there. Before he opened the door for me, he pulled me into his arms and cradled me against him. I clung to him, unable to say anything. I started to shake and tears ran down my face, soaking his dark blue, very expensive, Prada shirt. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he soothed me, his hand moving up to caress the back of my neck. He felt so solid against me, so strong, I let myself sag in his arms. He began to rock me back and forth, whispering nonsense to me. Even thought I couldn’t stop shaking, I felt comforted by him, I felt safe.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back slightly. “Are you ready to go, love?” he said, his voice low, his deep brown eyes shining with concern as he looked down at me.

I sighed and nodded, shivering slightly as he tenderly wiped the tears from my face. His hand lingered on my cheek for a moment, then he opened the door of the car and I got in.

Half an hour later, we pulled into Aunt Tess’s driveway. The shock was starting to wear off, and I was beginning to get really upset again. Orlando helped me out of the car and took me into the house.