Telepathic Love

Chapter 11.1: Famous Soulmate

Zac's POV

"No," I gasped as I finished the article. "No, no, no, no no no-no-no. This can't be happening. Please tell me this isn't happening."

"Sorry," my brother cringed.

"How the hell did these sick bastards even find out about Isabella's accident? The only people who know are me, you, Max. . . Son of a bitch!"

I jumped up, reading to kill Max.

"Whoa," Dylan laughed. "Take it easy there, Rocky. You don't know that your manager leaked it."

"How else would those reporter leaches find out I connected with my Soulmate and that she was in a car accident when we connected?"

"I hate to say this," he said slowly, "but are we sure it wasn't Isabella?"

"Of course not," I instantly defended her. "She didn't even know that I'm a. . . Isabella doesn't know I'm a famous actor."

I sighed as I sat back down and ran my fingers through my hair. "What do I do?" I mumbled.

Dylan sighed as he sat on the coffee table across from me. "Let me ask you something," he sighed, clearing his throat. "Why didn't you tell her? I mean, you told her about our production company. Why didn't you tell her you were an actor too?"

"You know what's it's like," I sighed. "How many times have you been followed by paparazzi?"

"More times than I've liked," he mumbled.

"Exactly," I scoffed. "They constantly follow you around because you're my brother. Imagine what they'd do to my Soulmate."

"Oh," he said under his breath.

"They'd never leave her alone, Dyl," I said, my breath getting caught in my throat. "She wouldn't be able to have a normal life because of me. She wouldn't be able to go to work or teach her students without people bothering her. I don't want that life for her. People following her around, sneaking pictures of her."

"Then what life do you want for her?" He asked, catching me off-guard.

"What are you saying?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"Hate to say this, but that is your life," he sighed. "So if you don't want that life for her, what kind of life do you want for her? With her? That's the baggage you come into a relationship with, Zac. If you want a life together. . ."

"I do want a life with her," I said instantly, cutting him off. "I just. . . I don't want that life with her."

"Zac," he said, his tone changing. "You're an actor. You can't avoid that. Even if you quit and moved and focused on our company, the paparazzi would still find you. She needs to get used to it."

"She shouldn't have to."

* * * * *

After Dylan left our apartment, I read through the article again. And again. And again. The more I read it, the guiltier I got.

What if she didn't read it? What if she didn't see the article? What if she didn't realize that was me? What if she saw the article, but didn't realize it was about us?

Who am I kidding? She's an intelligent woman. My name is Zac and our connection was formed because of her accident. Anyone could figure it out.

"Isabella?"

I held my breath waiting for her to answer. The longer it took for her to answer me, the more it killed me. But it's not like I could blame her. I lied to her and kept a big part of my life from her.

"Isabella, please."

I ran my fingers through my hair, my breath shaky.

"You don't have to talk to me," I said gently. "Please just listen. I know I don't deserve it but. . . I am so sorry. I should've told you the truth."

I sighed, angrily rubbing my face. I pulled my hands away from my face and intertwined my fingers together.

"I'm such an asshole," I scoffed. "I've been telling you that I want you in my life, and yet I kept a huge part of it from you. I'm so sorry. I want to explain it to you, Isabella. I really do."

I glanced down at my phone with the article still pulled up.

"The reason I didn't tell you about my acting career was because, as soon as I did, I'd have to tell you about the paparazzi following you around and hiding in bushes, the fans who know more about your life than you do, and the amount of favors people ask you for. It's unfair and overbearing and frustrating. I thought I could protect you from all of it. But instead of protecting you, I hurt you."

My breath got caught in my throat as I said those three words. I shook my head, fighting the tears.

"I'm so sorry, Isabella," I said, my voice breaking. "I can't believe I hurt you. Please forgive me. I will do whatever I can to make it up to you. No matter how long it takes. I will spend the rest of my life fixing it. Please give me a chance to make it up to you. I'm so sorry, darling."

* * * * *

I tried to give Isabella some space, but it killed me. Forcing myself not to reach out to her was harder than I'd thought it was. What really killed me was that I could feel her hesitate to reach out to me but then decide at the last minute not to.

It was kind of good payback for all the years I ignored her.

"I don't know what to do," I said under my breath.

"Zac," Dylan sighed. "You've tried to reach out to her. I think. . . There's only one thing you can do at this point."

"What?" I asked.

"Give her some space," he said slowly. "I know that's the last thing you want to do right now, but it's what she needs. It's what you owe her. I mean, you were the one who lied to her about what you do. You claim to want her to be a part of your life and yet you kept a crazy big part of your life from her."

"I didn't. . ."

"Don't, Zac," he interrupted me. "Stop reaching out to her. Stop bugging her. Stop begging to apologize. She knows you want to talk about it, but she clearly doesn't. So let her come to you when she's ready."

"What if she never forgives me?"