Setting: West Hollywood Couples Therapy, Los Angeles, CA
Cristo Ghesquiere could not stop bouncing his leg. There was a tune playing in his head, a song he couldn't quite remember but something his father used to play all of the time when he was younger. That's the beat he was tapping his foot to as he sat in the reception area of his therapist's office. Ugh. Therapist. Hadn't he become the stereotypical spoiled child of a multi billionaire? The one recovering from neglectful parents and a lonely childhood spent in boarding school? A therapist...a person to discuss his problems with when he shouldn't even have problems. He had the world at his fingertips. He was accomplished, he had the perfect family, he had everything anyone could ever want. Yet somehow the death of his father had sent him spiraling and now here he was, sitting in some Los Angeles high rise taping his foot to the beat of a song he probably hated. Ugh.
A hand was placed on his right knee, stopping his foot in action. The diamond ring on the slender ring finger caught the sun and sparkled in the dull office. Cristo looked up and met the eyes of his wife, her gaze softening once their eyes connected. She slipped her hand off of his knee and placed it back on her lap without a word. Then she looked away as though it hadn't happened.
Ugh. He would have to figure out a way to apologize for all of this. The mental breakdown. The total neglect of his family. His shitty words and actions. How would he even begin to apologize for becoming the very person he had promised not to be? Therapy was a start. Ugh. Just filling out the forms made his skin crawl but this is what she wanted. Individual and couples' therapy, which meant two days out of the week he had to muster up all of the courage in the world to not only talk about his problems, but the problems in his marriage as well that were exacerbated by his problems.
"Ghesquiere?" The receptionist called out.
Cristo stood up too fast, almost startling himself. His wife shot him a confused look but once again didn't say anything. Usually she could talk his ear off but ever since they had started this whole therapy thing she had been quiet, only reserving her words for their sessions and not having anything left to say afterwards.
"She's ready for you."
Okay. Therapy had not been his idea but couples' therapy had. And since Demi already had her own therapist and he had his own therapist, they had to find a completely different therapist for couples' therapy because of conflict of interest and things like that. It was a lot. But it was the only thing keeping him from getting a divorce so he went along with it.
Demi led the way. She was dressed sensibly in a pair of skinny jeans - probably from her sister's line, a black bodysuit - also from her other sister's line, and some tennis shoes - from her brother in law's line. She was the wife of a fashion designer but had resigned herself from wearing his clothes until she figured out what they were going to do about their relationship. Her words. Not his.
"Cristo and Demi, right? It's so nice to meet you guys, go ahead and take a seat. Get comfortable!"
How comfortable could therapy be? Their therapist was short, almost the same height as his wife. She had hair that was so black it almost looked blue, and it stopped in a blunt cut that didn't brush past her shoulders. The red blazer washed out her pale skin and her pants weren't even tailored. But Cristo let her questionable fashion choices slide as he remembered that not everyone thought as he did. And maybe that was a good thing.
"How are you today?" She asked after closing the door and sitting down in front of them.
Terrible is what Cristo wanted to say, but then Demi would shoot him that look of hers. Mild disappointment and discontent with his answer, like she was keeping track of everything that he said wrong and once he got to a certain number she would file for divorce.
"Good," Demi said with a practiced smile.
If he had learned one thing about his wife, it was that she pretended that she didn't care about appearances when they were really everything to her. She claimed to not pay any attention to what people had to say about her, that she wasn't anything like her sisters and the magazines could print whatever they wanted because she knew the truth, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. Demi was one of the most calculating people that he knew and she did everything to come off as though she wasn't. Must be something she learned from her mother. Not her biological mother, but the matriarch of an empire that took her in at the tender age of sixteen.
"Cristo, what about you? How are you today?"
Terrible. The nicotine patch on his right arm was beginning to itch and the bandage was doing nothing for him. He was aching for a cigarette but couldn't even have one. He bet his wife was keeping track of that too, like he could only have a certain number of slip ups before she had Laura Wasser on speed dial.
"Good," he answered instead.
Out of the corner of his eye, Demi pursed her lips. Their therapist - what was her name again? Cristo didn't think he ever asked for it - looked between the two like she was concerned for the state of their marriage, but then she was smiling again.
"So...what brings you in today?"
Oh boy. It was Cristo and Demi's turn to share a look. Because although they hadn't been on the same page in months, they knew that a one hour session wouldn't be enough to detail all of their marital issues.
An hour passed and they were leaving the office in silence, the complete opposite of what had transpired over the past hour. Demi did most of the talking. Cristo never had trouble formulating what he wanted to say but today he just couldn't. So, Demi handled it. She told her side of the story and they got to focus on how she felt and how Cristo was the villain in all of this. Not that she was wrong but it was a little bit more complicated than that. Whatever. At least now he had something to work on in his next therapy session.
"Are we ever going to talk again?" Cristo suddenly asked once they reached their cars.
Just from their vehicles an outsider could tell that they lived very blessed lives. Cristo had a black Tesla Model X and Demi drove the latest Range Rover, another item he had bought during his irresponsible spending spree in December. But unlike the Bel Air house, Demi didn't make him sell this one.
"We just talked..."
"Like outside of therapy, Demi. Like we used to," Cristo said as Demi fumbled with her keys in her hand. She turned them over in her palm then dangled them from her fingers as she tried to figure out what to say.
"We're talking now."
Cristo's shoulders dropped before he dug his own keys out of his pocket. He wished he was lighting a cigarette instead.
"Muse has this thing at her school...take your parent to school day. I'm sure she'll tell you about it but she wants both of us to come. And um...you should come over for dinner tonight," Demi suggested, tucking her short hair behind her ears.
To Cristo's surprise she had chopped it off before the New Year. She kept extensions in for a week when she was deciding if she really liked it, but then she had taken them out again when she decided she did. Now her black hair brushed a little past her shoulders and framed her face in the best way.
"Can I stay over?" Cristo questioned but Demi immediately shook her head.
"Then where am I supposed to sleep?"
"In one of those two houses you bought. I'll see you later, Cristo. Dinner is at 6:30."
Setting: Cristo and Demi's House, Calabasas, CA
Demi Lovato had made a huge mistake. That mistake was now coming back to haunt her and she would have to spend the next however many months trying to make up for it. The mistake was going on vacation with her husband and acting all lovey dovey knowing that things weren't completely resolved between the two of them. After Nicolas died, Cristo had had some sort of come to Jesus moment and had returned to the states apologizing profusely for everything. It was the holiday season and Demi didn't want to fight with him. So even though she probably should've forced him into therapy at that point, they had decided to spend the holidays vacationing around the world instead. And it was great and their daughter loved it and it felt like everything was back to normal. Then they returned to Los Angeles, and Demi was reminded that everything was not normal. They were not normal people who lead normal lives. They were internationally known celebrities who had the world in their business and lies had been spread about their situation for weeks. Demi was taking care of that...but she was also trying to take care of her marriage.
Because she wanted things to work with her husband. The last thing she needed was another divorce. But when they returned to LA, Demi felt like she did a 180 and now they were separated after spending so much time gallivanting all over the world. After they returned home and Demi came to terms with the state of her marriage, she couldn't live in the same house as him. She needed him to have his space and see his therapist and get rid of his disgusting smoking habit. She needed him to focus on healing himself and being there for his daughter and that's why she had made the decision to separate. She knew that Cristo wasn't a fan of it, but it was kind of his fault. Kind of. Demi had a part in it too but none of this would have happened if Cristo had confronted his problems from the start.
Anyway. Now Cristo was coming over for dinner and Demi was terrified. She didn't even know why. They did actually see each other everyday because of Muse but Demi often stepped away and allowed him to spend time with his daughter without her breathing over his shoulder. But this would be their first time doing something together...as a family...and needless to say, Demi was freaking the fuck out.
"Kris Jenner!" Demi called as she entered her house. It was still early in the day so Muse was still at school. Kris was staying at her house because she was getting her house renovated and Corey was out of town.
"I'm in the kitchen!" Kris replied, so that's where Demi headed. She dropped her lilac colored Birkin bag on the counter then engulfed her mother in a hug.
"Oh wow, sweetie, therapy must've gone well today," Kris said as she patted Demi's arm. Demi pulled away then let her elbows rest on the counter.
"I don't think that's the word for it but I invited him to dinner tonight," Demi replied as she combed her fingers through her hair. It was short, it was light, and cutting it made her feel like there was a literal weight off of her shoulders.
"I'll make myself scarce then."
"Or you can stay and not force me to be in the same room as him for a prolonged period of time...?"
"Demi, he's your husband," Kris deadpanned as she closed her MacBook. "If you're not going to divorce him, you're going to eventually have to spend some time together. Come on now. You are not leaving this man."
"Don't be so sure," Demi teased, but she was sure that Kris saw right through her.
Yeah, she knew in her heart that she would never divorce Cristo but something had to be said for the fact that she couldn't see past their current situation. Like how were they supposed to move on from being separated?
"Whatever you say, dear. Anyway, I've been on the phone with the lawyers all morning and the judge ruled in your case against TMZ."
Okay. Demi spent a LOT of her life in the spotlight. She had literally been working since the age of eight, she became the face of a major franchise at like 15, at 16 she became a consistent guest star on one of the most popular reality TV shows in history, and almost 14 years later she was STILL in the limelight. So, she knew all about tabloids and the media and paparazzi. But she had reached her breaking point when they published articles and pictures of her argument with Cristo while he was in the midst of a mental breakdown. Well, according to the pictures and the articles, they were both having a mental breakdown. And then they continued, posting lies about Cristo having bipolar disorder and refusing treatment, a timeline of his erratic behavior, how Demi was through with him and was seeking help for problems of her own. And TMZ spearheaded the entire operation. So, before she went on vacation, she decided to sue them. It wasn't an unprecedented case but the outcomes of other cases hadn't been that great. Demi didn't care how unprecedented it was, she just wanted them to stop printing lies about her and her husband.
"What happened?"
"They're not allowed to post anything about you or Cristo anymore."
"And that doesn't mess with your connections?" Demi questioned but Kris shook her head. It wasn't a secret that Kris had every media outlet in her back pocket. They worked for her, not the other way around.
"No, you know I'm good no matter what. They don't have to delete the others but like I said, they can't even mention your name anymore whether you're in the headline or not," Kris answered as Demi grinned.
She loved victory. And it wasn't so much about her as it was about Muse. Demi was always reminding herself that some day Muse was going to be old enough to google her parents and her family and Demi didn't want her reading the shit posts from trashy media outlets. Not if she could control it.
"Good," Demi beamed, and then Marcia entered the kitchen. "Hey Marcia, Cristo is coming over for dinner today so would you be able to make that pasta that he likes?"
Marcia raised her eyebrow at the request and exchanged a look with Kris who had a smirk on her face. "Yes, of course, Mrs. Demi."
"Okay and remember that he likes it cooked a certain way. Like don't cook it all the way through. Let the noodles get al dente after they've been in the sauce. And you know about the pasta water and I'll have to check if we have the type he likes, you may have to go to that Italian restaurant in the city to get the kind he likes but-"
"Mrs. Demi. I got it. Thank you," Marcia stated with a smile before she walked out of the kitchen.
Demi turned and saw Kris staring at her with a smirk on her face.
"What?"
"Nothing, sweetie," Kris said with a knowing smile. Yeah. This separation from Cristo definitely was not going to last long.
"Thank you for inviting me over. You look beautiful tonight," Cristo started, watching Demi put the unused dishes away. They were standing in the butler's pantry that was behind their kitchen. Usually Marcia did this but Demi was letting Muse have some extra TV time after dinner and she needed something to occupy her mind.
"Thank you," Demi replied.
Okay, now she wished she had longer hair that could cover her rose colored cheeks. It's not that Demi had been bumming it for a while, but she never really got dressed for dinner. When Cristo texted he was on his way, she had almost broke her foot trying to switch from jeans to what she was in now, a simple long sleeved black dress that perfectly fit the curves of her body over a pair of Louis Vuitton tights.
Demi heard Cristo move, and then she felt him behind her, the warmth of his body encompassing her as her breath caught in her throat and she stood upright again.
"When can we go back to normal?" He whispered against her skin, his hands trailing up her arms before she turned around to face him, still trapped in his embrace.
"You shouldn't want to go back to normal. I don't. I want us to be better than we were before...that's why we're doing all of this, remember?" Demi reminded him, slightly losing her train of thought as she stared into his eyes. His gorgeous grayish blue eyes that used to seem so hazy when he was going through over the past few months, but now they were clear and filled with purpose.
"You love me?" Cristo asked, as if he needed a reminder.
Demi knew their situation was troubling to him, but she was still wearing her wedding ring. She hadn't even thought about hiring a lawyer. And she was still allowing him into their lives without a lot of set boundaries. Of course she loved this man.
"Yes," Demi breathed out.
As if he were rewarding her, Cristo's lips pressed against the dip near her collarbone, causing Demi to basically melt in his arms. She didn't know why but for some reason that was her spot, and Cristo used it to his advantage.
"I love you too."
His arms circled around her waist then moved up the curve of her body until he was cupping her cheeks. It seemed as though it took forever for their lips to meet, but once they did, Demi completely surrendered to him, pressing her body against his as she licked the seam of his lips. He got her hint and opened his mouth, their tongues tangling together as Demi gripped the hairs on the back of his neck.
"Cristo," she breathily moaned, her body in complete control with a mind of its own as she circled her hips against his thigh.
"I missed you, l'amour de ma vie."
Fuck. Something about him speaking French during moments like this always got her, and Demi could feel her body shudder as she pulled away from their kiss.
"We shouldn't." Although every part of her wanted to and her body was screaming at her for the rejection. "It won't change anything. We still have to go to therapy. You still can't live here. We can't do this."
"Okay," he said as his hands ran over her thighs. He placed a kiss over her ear, inhaling the scent of her hair as Demi leaned into his touch.
"Hmm..." Demi could feel her resolve dissolving.
And then she grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers as she guided his hand to the apex of her thighs. They made eye contact again and Cristo accepted her consent, gripping her hips to place her on the countertop. He ripped her tights but Demi was beyond the point of caring. She had another pair upstairs. She opened her legs a little bit more as he pushed her dress up her hips and moved her underwear to the side with his fingers.
"Cristo, please," Demi pleaded, curling her fingers around his wrist to guide him where she needed him the most.
"Oh my gosh," she breathlessly moaned, throwing her head back against the cabinets as he finally entered her, and all of her rational thoughts completely melted away.
"Okay...you can stay the night. But not in my bed. In the guest bedroom, in the living room, in the theater...I don't care," Demi said as she bent down to pick her tights up from the floor.
"Okay," Cristo smirked, giving her butt a light tap before she swatted his hands away.
"I'm going to take a shower. Please get Muse ready for bed," Demi said, barely able to make eye contact with her husband as they exited the butler's pantry.
"Whatever you say, love."
When Demi tried to make her way to the stairs, Cristo tugged her back by her wrist and wrapped his arms around her one more time.
"Je t'aime beaucoup..." he whispered into her ear.
Demi tried to fight her smile but she couldn't. She didn't know what this meant for the state of their relationship, but Demi had always been terrible at hiding her feelings. So she could not hide the fact that she loved this man.
"Je t'aime beaucoup," she replied, kissing the side of his cheek before she pulled away to go upstairs. She shot him one last look before she made it to the top and disappeared into their bedroom.