More Than Anything

“What happened?” I was immediately concerned, despite myself.

“You don’t know?” My mother sighed dramatically. “She collapsed on live TV. She was in the hospital. Nobody told you? I thought you had a security team or something like that dedicated to her.”

I did; as my wife, estranged or not, I couldn’t leave her security up to chance. “It’s managed by her agency. They don’t report to me. I’m not keeping tabs on her.”

“No, you’re not.” She was quiet. “Anyway, be gentle with her, and give her my love, okay?”

After the call ended, Colleen appeared again with a carafe of mixed fruit juice. She set it down just as I searched Allie’s name on my phone’s browser and the results threw up countless videos and gifs. I switched on the TV and connected my phone to view the first video on the large screen, and I winced when I saw Allie’s eye’s roll up as she fell face first onto the carpet.

Another video showed a picture taken before she collapsed, with her fingers caressing Guy Fletcher’s face, then followed that with the clip of him running to her side after she fell, picking her up and cradling her in his arms.

Allie Gilbert collapses after a tender moment with Guy Fletcher.

I swallowed my jealousy.

“Did you know?” I asked Colleen.

“It was all over the entertainment news,” she said quietly. “It’s all they’ve been talking about.”

I scowled, hating the surge of concern I felt. “She wouldn’t be so exhausted if she didn’t choose work over everything else.”

“That seems to be a common theme around here,” Colleen said, straight-faced.

“What did you say?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

I switched the channels to one of the entertainment networks I hated, and as I ate, sure enough, report after report about Allie came on the screen: theories about why she collapsed, replays of her collapse, and speculation about where she was. I switched it off and rose. Of course, she couldn’t leave. The sort of scrutiny she would be exposed to if she so much as showed her face in public now…

No, I’d leave as soon as the storm abated, let her enjoy her rest and solitude.

Deep down, though, I didn’t want to leave. Seeing her so vulnerable in front of all those people—it brought back old feelings, old desires. I wanted to take care of her, and I knew I shouldn’t, because if there was one thing Allie had made clear, it was that she didn’t need me.

I went upstairs to my private office, but I didn’t have any desire to work. Allie was on my mind.

Be gentle with her.

God how I wanted to be, in so many more ways than one. Gentle then rough, slow and then fast. I sighed as the sweet ache of arousal turned into a rigid hardness in my groin. The sooner I left and put her out of my mind again, the better.

But first, my mother and Colleen were right: I needed to apologize.

I went out to find her. I knocked on the door of my bedroom, feeling ridiculous, then after three knocks with no answer, I opened the door.

She wasn’t there.

For a moment, I panicked, sure she’d up and left without telling me. I saw her robe hanging on the hand-carved accent chair by the dresser and was ashamed of the flood of relief I felt.

I went downstairs, started to go to the kitchen, but then I walked past and made my way to the indoor swimming pool.

She was in the warmed pool, doing laps. It was how she expended excess energy and emotions. I still knew that about her. I still knew everything. Every piece of knowledge I’d ever discovered about her was a pearl I’d never allow myself to let go.

I watched her swim, back and forth, her concentration unbroken until she was done. She climbed out of the water, a goddess in a dark blue two-piece, her hair wet and plastered to her back and water sluicing down her body.

I stared, unable to look away.

She walked a few steps then saw me and stopped. She had picked up a towel, and now, as if self-conscious, she wrapped it around herself.

“What do you want?” Her voice was meant to be angry and dismissive, but I could hear the quaver beneath.