Somehow, Chris managed to keep it together until he reached his penthouse. As he sat in his car, alone in the dark, his entire composure turned to soup. The tears flowed as if from a broken faucet, and he dropped his head onto the steering wheel and cried like a baby. He sobbed, cursed, and positively howled for what must have been a half-hour, maybe an hour.

Even after his tears ran dry and the sobs no longer tore his throat, he continued to slouch in his seat, feeling as empty as if someone had pulled a plug on him.

When at last he got out of the car and boarded the elevator, it cost just about every ounce of strength he had. He prayed his mates wouldn’t be around when he stepped through his door—but no, there they were, all four of them, scattered about the living room. They took but one look at him, and JC spoke first. “Chris, what’s wrong?”

“You look terrible,” Joey said. 

“Are you okay?” asked Lance.

“What happened?” Justin solicited. 

Chris found himself joining JC and Justin on the couch. He deposited his glasses onto the sleek black coffee table and all but flung his jacket to the side. Even on the couch, he sat as far on the edge as was possible and kept his head down. Justin stayed put, but JC slid a little closer and placed a light hand on Chris’s bent back. Lance and Joey moved closer as well, and the whole miserable story left Chris’s lips virtually of its own accord.

While he didn’t go into extensive detail, his mates were knocked for a loop nonetheless. Lance’s jaw pretty much hit the floor, while Justin said in a half-whisper, “I can’t believe it!”

“Neither can I,” Chris mumbled into his palms. 

“Oh, Chris, I’m so sorry,” said JC, now wrapping his arm around Chris’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze.

Even Joey, who’d always been the most apt to tease Chris about Allie, sat in stunned silence. When he could speak, he only said, “I never would have thought Allie was capable of stooping to such a level.”

Lance shook his head and murmured, “That was cruel, to say the absolute least.” 

Lifting his head a little, Chris dryly informed his mates, “On top of all that, would you believe she acted like she was the victim in this scenario? Like I was the bad guy? The one hurting her?” He didn’t mention the way Allie had whined and carried on at the restaurant, how half her face went black from her mascara as she spouted things like “I can’t believe you’re dumping me,” and “You can’t do this to me!”

“Oh, wow,” said Joey, making no effort to hide his disdain.

“That is rich,” added Lance with equal scorn.

“As fine a piece of work as they come,” Justin put in. 

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” JC said again.

Chris didn’t shy away from JC’s touch, but he shook his head and put a hand over his eyes once more. “Now I know the truth for myself,” he muttered, “and yet I wish I didn’t know.” 

“We don’t blame you for that, man,” Justin replied softly.

After a few minutes, Joey asked, “Can’t we do something?” 

“Think you might need a break from work, Chris?” Lance queried.

“No.” That was all it took to make Chris look up and straighten up. “I can’t have people see me falling apart. I must keep my daily routine intact at all costs.”

“Are you sure?” asked JC. 

Chris nodded vigorously. “I’m sure. I need to stay busy, and furthermore, people won’t have as much to gossip about if I don’t make a big deal out of this.”

“But it is a big deal,” said Joey.

“Yeah, but the public doesn’t need to know that. All they need to know is that Allie and I are no longer together, end of story. Lord knows what would happen if they got their hands on the dirty details.” The thought by itself was enough to make Chris nauseous; he could literally taste something foul. 

None of the guys appeared satisfied with this decision, but all JC said was, “Well, all right, Chris. If that’s the way you feel about it.”

Justin made a small salute as he added, “Your secret is safe with us.” 

“Thanks, guys.” Chris paused, then whispered, “And thanks for hearing me out…and for not rubbing it in.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t rub it in,” said Joey, sounding surprised and a little hurt at the idea. 

Lance reached out to pat Chris’s knee. “And you know you can talk to us about anything.”

Although Chris felt some relief for having confided in his mates, his heart was still broken—not just from Allie’s actions, but also at the realization that this marked the third relationship since his rise to stardom that proved an abysmal failure. 

In his mind’s eye, he saw Alicia, Danielle, and Allie arranged in some kind of row.

Alicia had seemed nice enough at the start. But she didn’t have the rationality of a grasshopper, and she took on the most ridiculous airs when she and Chris were together. While she never said it outright, she might as well have told the world through a megaphone, “My boyfriend is a celebrity, and so that makes me better than all of you put together!” 

Danielle had also had as much charm as any girl. But she got a little too cozy with Chris’s money, and consequently a little too picky about the gifts he bestowed on her. Never mind what the price tag said; never mind that she didn’t need this or that to survive; never mind the old saying, “It’s the thought that counts”—anything that cost forty dollars or less was simply taboo.

Now here was Allie, who’d thought she could use another guy to fill in those “gaps” Chris left behind, and Chris couldn’t curb the thought, Three strikes and you’re out. 

As Chris half-drowned himself in a hot shower and crawled into bed, he thought about Moulin Rouge! and its central theme: “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”

What a load of cock and bull. 

True love, if such a thing existed, was only to be found in books and television. A sadist must have invented Valentine’s Day. So many people over the years found what they truly believed was love, only to have it blow up in their faces.

Chris’s last thought before falling into the welcoming arms of sleep was, Well, no more. I played my hand in this game, and now the game is over.