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The towels he’d requested an hour ago still had not arrived. Kendall laid on the bed in his room, watching the dust dance in a bright shaft of mid-morning sunlight. The sun, the beauty of it, was hard to absorb. He stared above him, waiting.
Had his kids seen? When Comfrey had pulled him from the pool?
Kendall laid still, listening to his heart beat in his ears. He hadn’t taken off his sunglasses. He hadn’t unpacked the bag Comfrey had thrown together for him upon Jess’ orders. He hadn’t taken a shower. He hadn’t moved in the past hour. How would he be expected to go to the wedding? To face his family? To pretend to be a father?
Blood thudded through his head. He thought of the pool, trying to remember what had happened. His brain wouldn’t let the images come. Instead, he was bombarded with a flash of ice water, of silence underwater—of saturated clothes—of another wedding—
A knock at the door. It was an empty solace: to make small talk with the help, to accept the towels he didn’t need, to pull his mouth into a small smile of thanks. To hobble through the next few days until he could get home and dive headfirst into his bed without any outside obligations.
“Yeah, come in,” Kendall called as he made himself sit up; he heaved a sigh, hunched, as he stared out the window.
The door clicked open.
“You can just—leave the towels by the tub—”
He wasn’t planning on using them; there were already three on the rack. He stood, and turned—
And she was there. In the doorway. With her rolling suitcase and her carry on. Leggings. A large t-shirt. Hair pulled back, low at the nape of her neck. Exhausted.
Kendall stood, silent. With a jump, he tore off his sunglasses. Only an asshole wore sunglasses inside.
“You—you came,” he whispered, astonished, “Jess—”
Her name slid through his lips, desperate.
Her eyes were wide, wider than usual. Jess tried in vain to contain the terror she felt in that moment, but the relief she’d hoped for was slow to come. She gulped, unable to find words at the sight of him.
“You didn’t—you didn’t have to—” Kendall said softly.
She had no response.
“You didn’t—” he tried to say again but watched helplessly as she bounded across the room and threw her arms around him, pulling him close. Kendall, shocked, tried to reciprocate but his leaden arms wouldn’t move.
Jess held him tightly; she was warm from traveling and the smooth skin of her forearm stuck against the back of his neck in their embrace. She said nothing, just holding him.
He felt her shaking, holding the sob within her chest, and that’s when he laid his palm against the small of her back. He felt her inhale, as if to speak, maybe three times.
“Hey—hey—” he uttered softly into her ear.
With her chin resting against his shoulder, Jess squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of his voice. She’d flown 4,000 miles to comfort him—and now? She pressed her body against his, in spite of herself. He wasn’t gone. He was there. Still. In her arms.
“I…I’m—” she stammered, pulling herself back to dare to look at him; the sun shaft was bright and she squinted, “I’m so—you’re OK. You’re—OK.”
He watched, in awe at her; she looked like a pre-Raphaelite angel, haloed in sunlight. Kendall didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to hold her emotion. How would he ever make room for it? Jess was a real person, as ethereal as she was. He was not.
“Yeah,” he kept his face frozen, “yeah. Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just—heat. The heat…”
Jess’ eyes caught his. Her head cocked a little, only a little, and he knew that his bullshit wouldn’t work here.
“I’m glad you’re OK,” she whispered, a hitch in her voice, glancing at the old scar on the inside of his wrist. She'd crafted her theories after he'd disappeared in England. "I'm glad you're OK." She said it again.
And she’d said those words to him before.
He didn’t want to hear them. He was deep in his Inferno—and didn’t exactly want to be reached. But she wasn’t giving up on him. Jess tried to follow his eyes as they trailed to some point beyond her shoulder. He was far away—but this time, Jess wanted to make sure Kendall heard her.
“Ken,” she said in her low voice, the voice that had punctuated his waking life for the past five years.
He didn’t look at her, “yeah.”
“Ken,” she repeated, with more resolve now.
He lifted his head but continued to avoid her. But before he could protest, she laid her hands on either side of his jaw and dipped her head to find him. He couldn’t escape her. Jess’ touch was warm. He surrendered, taking a breath to savor the moment as she held his face in her hands.
“I’m glad you’re OK,” the words were barely audible, but Jess made clear her intention: Kendall was safe with her.
And he could no longer keep still; Kendall leaned his head into her hand, letting her hold him. He no longer had the strength to hide—not in front of her.
She pulled him back into her arms, “I don’t know what I would’ve done—”
“Jess, please,” Kendall whispered. This was too much.
Kendall wrestled with the idea of telling her—if only to remind her that she needed to stop thinking he was somehow a worthy person. But also to lessen the burden. He couldn’t do that to her, not now, so he kept silent and clung to her, as the weight of his secret threatened to suffocate him.
She didn’t ask if he wanted to talk. She didn’t ask what was wrong. She just held on.
So Jess held onto Kendall—and he held onto her—for several quiet minutes. The sun made the room hot; there were no breezes that day. Somewhere, over the hills, a wildfire raged. The air was stagnant, burnt, but Kendall allowed himself a deep breath because she was there. With him.
Finally, she broke the embrace and spoke, “OK, what do you need me to do?”
“Um—um,” Kendall allowed himself a laugh, rubbing his forehead. Could she tell that he still reeked of the alcohol that was seeping out of his pores? “yeah, uh—Comfrey can go home tonight. Get her on a plane—her NDA should be good—um—and I need you to contact Vanity Fair again. And—shit, I have to get ready for the wedding—”
“I’ll leave you to it—” Jess nodded, and gathered her bags, “I’m just down the road—”
“Actually—”
“—in some sort of villa attic—”
“Go downstairs, get something to eat,” Kendall grabbed his phone, feeling a little energized, “but you can work from here. The wifi is shit, but it’ll—it’ll be good to have you close—so—”
She nodded and then headed for the door.
“Hey, Jess—”
She threw him a glance over her shoulder, waiting.
Kendall stared at her for a moment, his words failing him, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’m—glad you came.”
She nodded again, simply, and left him alone.