Bellamy's Redemption

The driver took us the short distance to Bellamy’s mansion and let us out at the front door. I was a little disappointed that this was the extent of our big escape, but then Bellamy surprised me some more. “Come on,” he said, smiling and taking my hand again. I followed him up a curving cobblestone driveway to where a line of fancy cars were parked.

“Let’s take this one,” he said, getting into a tiny convertible that seemed like something out of an old James Bond movie. A cameraman squeezed into the backseat with us, of course. Others appeared on the scene a moment later, tailing us in a Ford Focus. I didn’t care; it was great to be out of the house, away from the other women, and doing something completely unexpected.

We drove down the hill and kept going until we’d reached the ocean. Bellamy pulled over and put the car in park. He smiled at me. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” I said. The ocean air swept across my face and through my hair. I closed my eyes for just a second to enjoy it and when I opened them the crewmembers were all pulling in behind us.

“Do you want to go swimming?” asked Bellamy.

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

We got out and ran to the beach, stripping down to our underwear on the way. Then, in a moment of the most extreme liberation, Bellamy threw his microphone on the sand and I did as well. We jumped into the water and started swimming far, far away from the cameramen and all their assistants. As the shoreline receded, a feeling of authenticity poured over me. I felt present in a way I hadn’t for weeks.

“We’re not supposed to do anything like this,” Bellamy said, when we were far away from everyone. The water was inky black with ripples of silver where the waves caught the moonlight. Back on shore the cameramen were filming us, cutting to shots of our clothes and footprints, cutting back to us. “Ignore them,” said Bellamy.

“This is crazy. I feel so free. It’s heaven to not be recorded for a moment,” I said, splashing around.

Bellamy reached for me and took me in his arms. I didn’t feel uncomfortable, but I didn’t feel much of anything.

“You look so crazy sexy with that blue lipstick on,” he said.

“Bellamy,” I said. I stopped, unsure how to tell him that I wasn’t feeling it.

He leaned in close, his mouth to my ear. “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked.

“Umm,” I exhaled. Tears started to fill my eyes. I wasn’t sure if he could tell since we were in the ocean.

“Pretend I’m kissing you. Listen,” he said, his mouth by my ear.

“Okay,” I said.

“Are you feeling anything for me? Emma, be honest. This is your only chance to be this honest.”

“I like you,” I whispered back, “but I’m not sure I’m meant to be your wife.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “That’s okay.”

“Are you upset with me?” I asked.

“No, not at all,” he said. “Laugh, like we’re sharing a joke, okay?”

I giggled and nodded. I had no idea he was clever. Ironically, now I kind of liked him. Now that I’d just admitted I didn’t.

“Do you want to stay anyway?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, surprised.

“If you want, I’m going to keep you around until the very end, okay? If you want. You can travel all over, get all the jewelry, just be my spy. You’ll come in second. Would you do that for me?”

“What?”

“Would you do that for me?” he repeated.

“Um, yeah. I guess.”

“I really am looking for a wife. I want someone on the inside who can tell who’s right for me.”

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting this out of you,” I said.