Knox (A Merrick Brothers Novel)

by Prescott Lane

  “Do you know what that was like?” she asks. “I had all my girlfriends in my dorm room, watching you on the red carpet. I was so proud of you. My boyfriend was finally living his dream. They stopped you on the carpet and asked you all these questions about the movie, about rumors that you were dating your co-star, rumors I never knew anything about. Then you announced you were very much single. I remember it so clearly. Very much single.”

  I remember it, too. I’d been directed to say it by my agent. The rumors swirling around me and my co-star had helped build hype about the movie, and having a girlfriend back home wasn’t in the script. So I went along with it. I was young and new, and in no position to question what my agent was telling me. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I thought Mae would understand it was part of the job, just another role I was playing.

  I was wrong.

  “Mae, I told you before. I wasn’t breaking up with you when I said that. It was . . .”

  “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? All my friends, my family, all of Haven’s Point seeing that? I was mortified!”

  “It was to create publicity for the film. I never meant it. I flew home to see you the very next day. Remember that? That’s when you told me you didn’t want to see me again. You’re the one who ended it.”

  “So you think I broke up with you?”

  “I know I didn’t break up with you,” I say. There’s a moment of silence. I hate rehashing all this old shit, but Mae needs to feel heard. “Maybe we never broke up?” I joke.

  “The pictures in the tabloids of you and your co-star making out on some yacht two weeks later were clear that we did!”

  I collapse into a lounge chair on my balcony, knowing she’s probably seen a lot of pictures like that over the years. I’d hate to see a single picture of her even standing next to another guy, much less compromising photos.

  “I guess those rumors from the red carpet were true. How long were you cheating on me with her?” she asks.

  How the fuck could she think that? “I didn’t,” I say. “Mae, I would never.”

  “Right,” she cries. “She’s beautiful and sexy.”

  “So are you.”

  “Don’t do that!”

  “Mae, please find a place to pull over. I don’t want you driving when you’re upset.”

  “Be quiet!” she yells.

  “I had no idea you thought I cheated on you. I swear to you that I never did. I loved you, Mae.” I listen to her sniffle a few times. “I’m sorry about the whole red carpet thing. Truly, I am. I was young and new to the business. I did what I was told. It was stupid, and I’m sorry. But I never cheated on you. I promise.” I hear her crying softly on the other end of the phone. I’ve never wanted to hop on a plane so much in my life, to get to her, to hold her, to look into her eyes, and make sure she knows I’m telling her the truth. “You have to believe me. I never lied to you. Remember all those cassettes, all the embarrassing things I said? I never lied then, and I wouldn’t lie now.”

  “No, you just lied to the whole world about my very existence!” she snaps.

  That’s like a knee to the balls. “If I could take that back, I would.”

  “You weren’t sleeping with her while you were making the movie? While we were together?”

  “I would never do that to you. To any woman, but especially to you.”

  “Let’s say for the sake of argument you didn’t actually cheat. How long after we broke up did you end up in her bed?”

  Fuck! This is where men and women handle breakups differently. A woman will yell, cry, bitch to her girlfriends—whatever she needs to do to find closure. That process can take days or weeks or months. But women tend to do that before moving on. They don’t want to take baggage into their next relationship. It’s probably a lot healthier than the way the male species handles things. Men don’t want to process their feelings. They just want them to go way, so burying them in a bottle of liquor or the nearest pussy tends to be the course of action we choose instead.

  “It wasn’t long,” I say, but she already knows that. It was in the tabloids within weeks, just as she saw. “All I can say is that I was hurt. She’d made it very clear while shooting the movie how she felt. It was easy . . .”

  “Easy?” she chokes out.

  “That’s not what I . . .”

  “It wasn’t easy for me to go fuck someone else. I didn’t sleep with another man for . . .”

  “Don’t!” I bark. “I can’t hear that. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the only man you’ve been with. I can’t think about it any other way.”

  “Hypocrite,” she bites out.

  “I know,” I say. A long stretch of silence fills the minutes. Looking up into the night sky, I’m hoping for some wisdom. I need something bigger than an apology. A simple I’m sorry isn’t going to work, but I’m used to people writing these epic lines for me.

  “I wish I knew what to say.”

  “There’s nothing,” she says. “I must’ve meant so little to you.”

  “You know better than that,” I say.

  “I know the man I love told the world he was single, we broke up, and he couldn’t wait to fuck someone else. That’s what I know.”

  “Then you’ve forgotten a lot. A whole hell of a lot. And I’m going to remind you,” I say.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mae

  It feels like a Monday—like the Mondayest of Mondays. Normally, I’d have been at The Tune Up hours ago to meet Gigi and catch up, but normally, I don’t spend the night awake, crying, reliving my breakup with Knox. The way my dorm room fell silent when he said he was single—the phone calls and texts that followed from everyone in Haven’s Point—the feeling of being dumped on national television. Being hurt and embarrassed was not a good combination.

  It was a publicity stunt. He’d told me as much five years ago. It didn’t make it any easier then, and it doesn’t now. It made me feel like I wasn’t enough. The girlfriend from back home who wouldn’t fit in with the beautiful people of Hollywood. I just never thought Knox felt that way. He showed up at my door the next day, assuming everything was great. That what he did was totally fine. He didn’t warn me he’d been coached to say he was single. He didn’t call me right after to explain. He just showed up at my door, thinking I’d be happy to see him.

  It’s over! I never want to see you again!

  Those were some of the last words I screamed at Knox. Lies! Even as I said them, I didn’t believe them. I hoped saying them out loud would make them true, but it didn’t.

  For me, it’s not over. It could never be over.

  Those were some of the last words he said to me. Five years later, I guess they’re still true. He’s back.

  Our fight that day was awful, but it paled in comparison to seeing those photos of him with another woman so soon after. There aren’t words to describe it. Outwardly, to everyone else, I acted like I didn’t care. If he was going to be unfazed, then so was I.

  Only to Everly and Gigi did I let on how much it hurt, and even they don’t know I cried every night for three solid months after. In my heart, he’d cheated on me. I have to wonder if it wasn’t for those photos, if it wouldn’t have taken five years for us to talk again. But those photos sealed the deal. It looked to me like those red carpet rumors were true. It looked like he cheated. Maybe it was easier to believe that. It made it easier to hate him, but deep inside, I always knew better.

  After talking to him on the phone last night, I believe him when he said he didn’t cheat. He’s a terrible man whore, jumping from one bed to the next, but he’s not a cheat. I may not understand how he can go from woman to woman so quickly. I may be incapable of doing that myself, but I’m glad to know he didn’t actually cheat in our relationship.

  I’m a firm believer that every relationship, every breakup, teaches us something. There are lessons we can take away. The biggest lesson I learned from my breakup with Knox is that crying burns a lot of calories. I lo
st ten solid pounds the month after we broke up. Of course, they found me again, but for a year I was at my goal weight!

  I pull open the door to The Tune Up around 4:30, when it’s about to go from coffee shop to bar. I doubt Gigi is still here waiting for me, as she usually does on Mondays. I texted her hours ago to let her know I wasn’t going to make it, and to just go home, but my grandmother isn’t the best at following orders. Still, I could use a shot of whipped cream right about now.

  I see Gracie’s little drawing that reads “No Autograph Zone” hanging in the window. I guess Knox has a new fan. As soon as I step inside, it’s obvious he has more than one new fan. Knox is at the counter, a huge smile on his face. Timothy is laughing, and Everly is trying to grab something out of Knox’s hand.

  Knox is back in town again! He sure does like to make an entrance. I should be surprised, but I’m not. At least I have on cute jeans today, and no bike hair this time.

  “What’s mine is yours, and yours is mine,” Timothy says, playfully holding his wife back.

  “Mae!” Everly cries, spotting me and ending her struggle.

  All three of them turn to me, but it’s Knox’s blue eyes that I lock on. I was on the phone with him a little over twelve hours ago, yet here he is. It’s a new day after a long overdue talk, and the combination of those two things has eased my anger, my pain. The sight of him doesn’t make my heart hurt as badly.

  Knox gets to his feet, shuffling a pile of stuff into a large envelope. “Thanks, man,” he says to Timothy.

  “What did I miss?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” Knox says, taking a step toward me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, trying not to be distracted at how low his jeans hang from his hips, how his white t-shirt hugs the muscles of his arms and chest.

  “I’m leaving,” he replies.

  “You’re not here for me?” I ask.

  His smile covers his whole face, and he leans in closer to me. I feel my muscles tighten at his close proximity, my heart rate speeding up. “I’m most definitely here for you.”

  “But . . .”

  “I flew in this morning,” he says. “I’m staying in town for a few days.”

  “But . . .” I can’t seem to form a sentence.

  He smiles his best Hollywood smile. “Tomorrow. Noon. I’ll pick you up.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Lightly, his lips land on my cheek. In that brief second, my heart misses a beat. “I’m reminding you of who we are. Tomorrow. Noon.”

  He glances back over his shoulder at Timothy and Everly then waltzes right out the door. I have to admit his ass looks amazing, but what the hell just happened? My eyes fly to Timothy and Everly. “What’s going on?”

  “I swear, I don’t know what’s going on,” Everly says. “All I know is that . . .”

  Timothy’s hand lands on hers, and he shakes his head. “Let this play out.”

  “Let what play out?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s my best friend!” Everly says to her husband. “You can’t expect me not to tell her what I know.”

  “I’m asking you as your husband not to.”

  “That’s not fair!” Everly says, her voice rising.

  “You weren’t supposed to know anything about this,” Timothy says.

  “Why are you helping Knox?” she barks, louder than she perhaps intended. “Mae is our friend!”

  “He asked, and I think . . .”

  I look around the shop, customers starting to notice their fight—staring, conversations ceasing. It’s not good for business, and it’s not good for their relationship. Whatever’s going on, I don’t want them fighting over anything that has to do with me. “Forget I asked,” I say, motioning with my hands for them to lower their voices.

  “Mae,” Everly says, her hand landing on mine.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “Whatever it is, I know it’s not worth you guys fighting about.” They glance at each other. I know their fight isn’t over, but I’m doing my part to defuse it. “Just tell me if it’s bad or not.”

  Everly looks at Timothy. “I’m not privy to whatever the plan is.”

  “There’s a plan?” I ask.

  Timothy’s little grin tells me there is. “It’s good, Mae,” he says. “I would never do anything that I thought would hurt you. Not even for Knox Merrick.”

  *

  Haven’s Point has changed a lot over the years. The changes used to be more noticeable in between my visits as a child—a new restaurant, boutique, dry cleaners—but one thing remained the same—Gigi. No matter where I was in the world, I knew she was here, waiting for me to come back.

  She knows me better than I know myself. I’m her only grandchild, so we are extra close, which is why I’m surprised as hell when I pull up in front of her house and see Knox occupying the seat next to her on the front porch swing, looking like some sort of ad for quaint, small town living. The picture is completed by the fresh squeezed glass of lemonade they each are holding.

  I hop out of my car, slamming the door for good measure. It’s one thing to involve Timothy in his scheme, it’s quite another to involve Gigi. I reach the porch steps, and Knox leans his arm across the back of the swing. That used to be my spot, on that swing, next to him, his arm around my shoulder.

  “You following me, Mae?” he asks, trying to hide his smile.

  “Um, my grandmother,” I say, pointing to Gigi.

  “Thank you, Ms. Imogen,” he says, getting to his feet and grabbing a bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Remember what I said,” she says. “Veto power.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

  “So Gigi is coming on our date tomorrow?” I ask.

  “Date?” he says with a smirk.

  “You’re driving me crazy!” I say.

  “Tomorrow, noon,” he says, giving me a little wink, then he nods at Gigi and starts toward the steps.

  “Hold on a minute,” I say, following him.

  “I’m kind of on a deadline here,” he teases.

  “You have to tell me what’s going on.”

  He holds the bag up in the air, looking behind me. I turn around, seeing a van parked on the street that I hadn’t noticed before. A young, scruffy looking guy with a beard hops out, walking over to where we’re standing. Knox hands him the bag. “Here’s the stuff.”

  I’m totally in the dark at this point, having no idea what’s going on, and I get the feeling that Knox likes having me off balance. “Who are you?” I ask the bearded guy.

  “Do you mean, like, what’s my name, or who I am on an existential level?” he asks.

  Oh boy, this dude has to be from California. “Are you kidding me?” I ask, throwing a look to Knox.

  “Ben is helping me with something,” Knox says, motioning for him to go.

  “Nice to meet you, Mae,” he says, taking the bag and walking back toward the van.

  “How do you know my name?” I call out. When he doesn’t answer, I turn to Knox. “How does he know who I am?”

  “Me.”

  “This cryptic shit is really getting old,” I say, my hands flying around in the air.

  Knox takes my hands, pulling me a little closer to him. How his touch can still be so familiar is beyond me. Everything feels exactly the same, the way he looks at me, the way my body lights up. It feels completely natural to be this close to him. “Ben is helping me with something for our date tomorrow. It’s a surprise.”

  “And Everly and Gigi are helping?” I ask, unable to believe that.

  “Timothy, not Everly,” he says. “Gigi is helping, but she’s laid some conditions on me.”

  I look over at her, sitting on the porch, pretending not to be watching us. “It’s not a date,” I say, releasing his hands.

  “It is for me,” he says, taking hold of one of my hands again.

  “What if I’m busy tomorrow at noon?” I ask, but my curiosity is piqued. What is he up to?

 
“You are,” he says. “With me. I thought we covered this earlier at The Tune Up.”

  I’m doing my best not to smile at him, but his relentlessness is charming. “Gigi has veto power over whatever this is?” I ask, knowing I can trust her.

  “She does,” he says, swallowing hard.

  I can tell whatever deal he struck with her, she has him by the balls.

  “Then pick me up at noon,” I say, raising an eyebrow at him and turning toward the house. I know his eyes are on my butt as I walk away, so I make sure to walk slowly, so he can see what he’s been missing!

  Gigi pats the spot beside her for me to sit down, and I see Knox hopping in the van and driving away. “Care to fill me on what that was all about?” I ask.

  “That boy is still in love with you,” she says.

  My hand flies to my chest, checking to see if my heart is still beating. I’ve been wondering what’s going on all day, but that wasn’t at all what I was expecting her to say. No way is that true!

  “He said that?”

  “No,” she says. “I don’t think he quite knows himself yet.”

  I start laughing. “You scared the crap out of me. I thought he told you that!”

  “You still love him, too,” she says.

  “It’s over,” I protest. “It’s been over a long time.”

  “You know it’s true, and it scares the crap out of you.”

  It’s no use. I can’t lie to her. She can see right through me. “I will always love him. He was my . . .”

  “Oh,” she says, waving her hands at me. “Don’t give me the party line that he was your first love, and you always love your first. Garbage.”

  “Why are you helping him?” I ask, unable to hide the pain in my voice. “You know how badly he hurt me. You know more than anyone.”

  She smiles slightly. “He came over here trying to prey on my sympathies, saying how he lost everything in the fire. All his childhood memories. Begging me to help him.” She shakes her head. “He’s a good actor, but you can’t make shit smell like roses, you know?”