Chapter 25

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I can feel it all slipping away. Like newspaper that's been added to a fire, disintegrating into mere sparks that fly, weightless, up the chimney.

Harry got a glimpse of the compromising photos on Jane's desk, just enough to know that our world is being sent up in flames.

He was stung into silence too by the angry bees, but the shock that struck me with despair fueled an opposite reaction in him. He spun on his heel and stormed out of the office pulling me with him and I, ironically, jerked forward with the force of his action.

It's been a silent ride home.

I bubble and gurgle with a range of emotions while Harry just seethes.

I'm trying to climb the ladder of feelings out from the pit of my stomach and up to my brain. I know once I reach the top I'll be able to think about this clearly, to talk calmly, to reason my way to a plan and solution.  

But right now I'm still swimming my gut, drowning in primal reactions and pointless questions. Red hot anger. Who would do such a terrible thing? The twisting sick of injustice. Why? And to what end? The cold shiver of intrusion and violation. Who was watching? Where were they hiding?

Goodness knows we don't need to be spotted crying or yelling in this car, so I'm trying to hold myself together until we get to Harry's house and we can fall apart in each other's arms.

Tonight was supposed to be one of celebration. Harry's first of a million interviews to launch the tour is tomorrow morning. It's for the Today Show, from the LA satellite studio. We're leaving super early in the morning, but tonight Harry wanted us to open a bottle of wine he's been saving and have some fun combing through his closet for the perfect thing to wear and to practice his interview questions.

He pulls the car into the garage and once we are safely shielded from the outside world I cry, "Oh god, Harry!" and reach for him over the console.

He puts his hands up in front of him and snaps, "Stop it."

He gets out of the car and slams the door behind him.

I'm stunned.

He storms into the house and I silently follow.

"Harry!" I'm behind him up the stairs to his bedroom. "Wait."

"I have to get ready."

"But let's talk about this, we're in this together."

"Are we, Lynn?" He stops so suddenly I almost bump into him. He turns to me, "Do you have to be on national tv in the morning?"

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water but no words come out.

His anger is unleashed and he paces from room to room, wrestling out of his clothes as he rants, his tone of voice is one I've never heard before. "I've lived my whole goddamn life in a fucking fishbowl," he untucks his shirt and kicks off his loafers so they skid against the carpet.

"Should have known when I saw that fucker hiding in the trees. His voice lowers. "Leo Vascussi... fucking low life." He rips his shirt off over his head and flings it behind him. "...'m such an idiot." he mumbles, zips his belt out from the loops and drops it on the floor.

He stops suddenly and chokes out, "Can't breathe." He rushes past me through his bedroom and flings open the glass doors, crosses the deck in a few long strides and leans over railing. I watch his back heave with deep and irregular breaths and I wonder if he's going to vomit.

After a long moment he straightens, taking in gulps of air. I hurry over and put my hand flat on his bare chest to soothe him, but he shrinks away from me.

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