by Lelly Hughes
“But this is Hollywood. I should know everyone.”
“Ah yes, Hollywood. I live in Nashville,” I tell her. I motion for her to follow me and continue the tour.
“So you split your time?”
Shaking my head slightly, we step outside onto the patio. I purposely avoided showing her the master bedroom or the last guest bedroom where I have been sleeping. With my hand on the small of her back, I guide her up a small flight of stairs to a pergola that overlooks the pool. I don’t know if she purposely avoids looking at the pool where a few of the people in there all know her name or what, but I gather she’s much like me when it comes to attention. Less is far better in some cases.
“I rarely come here. The girls,” I say nodding toward the pool where both are, “live here with their mother. Or they did.”
“What does that mean?” she asks.
I sigh and readjust my hat. “She died last month.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Zara places her hand on mine, and I have no desire to pull away from her. I realize that I could play the broken-hearted widow right now, but that’s not me. I wear everything on my sleeve and lying is not a quality that I’m fond of unless it means hiding my identity.
“We were divorced,” I tell her just as my mother arrives with a tray of drinks and a copious amount of food. Zara laughs as she thanks my mama who once again winks at me. I can’t help but frown, wondering what she’s thinking.
“How long?” she asks.
I take a long sip of the ice-tea my mother brought out, instantly missing this and the sweet tea that I’m used too. “Almost three years.”
“Was it hard?”
Shrugging. “At first, maybe, but mostly because of the girls. I have full custody of them, but Iris, their mother, she moved out here and told Stormy about the dance school here. I didn’t want to hold Stormy back from following her dreams, so I let the girls move out here with their mother.”
“And now you’re living in her house?”
I look over my shoulder at the house before meeting Zara’s gaze. “It’s my house. I bought it for the girls, so they had a place to live. Iris… she was unstable after our divorce. She wanted to relive her teen years because they had been taken away when we got pregnant with Stormy.” I shrug and finish off my drink. “I let her go because I just wanted her happy.”
“She was your soul mate?”
I ponder her question for a few seconds before shaking my head. “No, she wasn’t. I thought she was until she died. Her death made me realize that our days were left back in high school and we were vastly different people. I was hurt when she asked for a divorce, but let her go and gave her whatever she asked for because…”
“Because you wanted her happy?”
I nod and find myself smiling even if it’s barely touching my lips.
“I’m married…”
And for some reason hearing her say that plummets my heart into the depths of my stomach. It’s not that I thought we were going to start dating, but hearing that she is attached to someone else doesn’t sit well with me.
“He cheated on me a month ago. I kicked him out and filed for divorce, but he’s not handling it well.”
And now I want to kick his ass.
“He’s in my band; he plays the drums. My publicist is telling me to get over it. The label is pissed, and I’m angry that no one is siding with me.”
“Did you cheat on him?” I ask although it’s none of my business.
She shakes her head rapidly. “God no. Up until about two weeks ago, I was walking around my house like a zombie, determined to forget everything except the paparazzi is camped out in front. I’ve been a prisoner in my own home until today, but anyway, it was like a light bulb went off. My husband…or soon to be former one, was in the paper with another woman and I thought ‘why the hell am I moping around when he’s not’ and decided that the man I once considered my soul mate isn’t because people don’t do that to their soul mates.”
She’s right, although to my knowledge Iris never cheated. I don’t know what I would’ve done if she had. Letting her go was hard enough, but to learn that she had given herself to another while married to me would’ve probably been devastating.
“I’m sorry you’re goin’ through such a hard time. The door is open whenever you need to escape.” Why on earth I just invited her to come over whenever she wants, I have no idea. I can’t even promise that we’ll be here once school lets out. This isn’t my home, and I want to get back to Nashville. Songs have to be written, recorded and produced.
But I find myself wanting to know more about her and plan to spend some time surfing the web to read up on the enigma that is Zara Phillips. I know for a fact she would never encourage me to do it and deep down I’m hoping she does the same with me. I have nothing to hide, and there isn’t anything scandalous about me online.
Zara meets my eyes, and for a moment I feel a connection. It’s stupid to think that there would ever be anything between us other than a brief friendship because of our backgrounds. I don’t believe that mumbo jumbo about opposites attracting. You’re normally drawn to people in your category, especially in the music industry.
Yet, I feel something, a current or a bond that is bringing us together. She didn’t have to come over here today, but she did, and clearly, it wasn’t to spend time with the crew. I reach across the table and place my hand on hers, careful not to bother the burn from earlier.
“I know our divorces aren’t the same, but if you need anything, I’m here.”
She squeezes my hand back and doesn’t let go nor do I pull away. The gesture isn’t lost on me, and I honestly like the feeling of her small hand being encased by mine. It isn’t until my name is yelled that I’m pulling away and while I may not be touching her, I am looking at her and smiling.
Chapter 11
Zara
As I near my street, my stomach feels like I have swallowed a rock and it’s now thrashing back and forth, threatening to destroy my insides on its way back out. It’s not because I regret going to the Austin’s house tonight or that for a brief moment I felt like an idiot for not knowing who Levi truly was. It’s because I don’t know what to expect when I get to my driveway.
Is Van inside waiting for me? What about the paparazzi? Have their numbers increased because Van showed up? These questions run rampant through my mind as I maneuver around the corners, driving as slow as possible. I don’t want to see him, not tonight at least. This evening was… nice. It was pleasant and relaxing.
I don’t want to say it’s been a long time since I’ve had a meaningful conversation, but that is what it felt like tonight. Everything that Levi and I discussed had a different depth to it. He told me about his ex-wife, which of course prompted my big mouth to open and spill about Van being an epic douche. Levi didn’t look at me like I was damaged, but he did offer to be there if I needed someone.
And maybe I do need someone. I don’t necessarily mean him, but someone to talk to. The idea of going to a therapist, though, doesn’t sit high on my priority list, especially being here. One leak to the press and the vultures will descend and invade my life. They have a way of turning something that should be positive into something negative. The last thing I want is to be labeled with a stigma because once that happens, it’ll stay with me forever.
The disturbance in my stomach eases up a bit when my house comes into sight. Seeing it darkened doesn’t do anything to dissipate the unease I feel wondering if Van is inside, waiting for me. I suppose I am somewhat childish by avoiding him, but honestly, what am I going to say? There is no way in hell I’ll ever tell him that it was okay for him to cheat or that I forgive him. To me, that action, of taking another into your sacred space, is unforgivable. Never in a million years would I think that Van would do that to me, but clearly I was wrong.
As soon as I press the button that will open my gate, two photographers appear out of nowhere and start snapping pictures. One yells my name and q
uickly follows up with a question about Van. I’m tempted to roll down my window and ask them “what about me?” but playing the ‘woe is me’ card has never been my forte.
When the garage door starts to lift, the rock that was in my stomach is back with a vengeance. Van’s car is in the garage like it belongs there. He knows that I don’t want him here so the fact that he is, really twists the knife he’s stabbed in my back even harder. I had hoped to end my day on a high note, but that doesn’t seem like the case now.
I wait in the driver’s seat until the garage door is down and the voices from the photographers are all but non-existent before I find my way into the house. It’s dark except for the colors flashing on the television.
“Where ya been?” I jump and place my hand against the wall to steady myself. Van is sitting at the dining room table, and I imagine he’s staring at me. Only after I press the button on the wall do I see him and his red-rimmed eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s my house,” he says even though I’m shaking my head.
“You should leave, Van. We have nothing to discuss.”
He picks up the papers that are in front of him and clenches them. “We have everything to discuss.”
As hard as I try, I can’t hold back the tears. Unfortunately for me, Van mistakes my weakness as a sign that I’m willing to let him hold me. Once his hands reach for me, I’m pushing him away. “Don’t touch me,” I tell him as I stagger back.
“Zara, you have to let me explain.”
“There is nothing you can say to change what I saw you doing, Van. Nothing. So how could there be an explanation? Are you going to tell me that you fell into her? That you’d think I’d be stupid enough to believe that? I saw the look you gave me when I interrupted you. You were pissed off that you couldn’t finish.”
“You don’t know that, Z.” His voice is weak and lacking the confidence he usually has.
“Are you for real, right now? Of course, I know it because I know every single expression that you have. I’ve seen that face before.”
I brush past him and head upstairs. He follows, which I knew he would, causing me to immediately regret my decision to leave the main floor.
“Zara, you need to hear me out. She means nothing.”
“Ah,” I scoff as I turn to face him. “Means nothing, huh? So you’re still banging her? You disgust me, Van. You must think that I’m naïve or so desperate for you to love me that I’m willing to believe your bullshit. Even after I caught you, you went back and finished the job.”
“Zara,” he says, reaching for me, but I pull away.
“Get out, Van,” I say as I walk into the room we once shared and into the closet. He still has a pile of clothes hanging in the closet, and I promptly start pulling them down.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I set an armful down on the bed.
“What don’t you get?” I ask, facing him. “You cheated. You destroyed our marriage with a single act and every day since I question how long you’ve been unfaithful to me. I throw up thinking about how you’ve put me at risk for diseases. My heart breaks at the betrayal that I never thought you were capable of. You did this, Van. Not me.”
“I’m sorry, Z. I am. I want to stop, but I think I’m sick. I think I have a sex addiction.”
“Well, you better seek help before your dick falls off,” I tell him before I head back into the closet. “I don’t know what you expect from me, Van, but you knew that cheating was a hard limit for me and yet you did it anyway. You know what Darian and I went through when my dad did this to my mom, how it hurt that he could throw his family away like that. I have never been more thankful that we don’t have children as I am now.”
“You don’t mean that, Z.”
“I do,” I say as I hand him a pile of clothes. “I can’t imagine going through this with children. It’s bad enough that the band is suffering because of it.”
“The band…”
Van pauses, and for a brief second, I think he’s about to tell me that he’s quitting. But calmer thoughts prevail, and while this would be what I want, the timing is wrong. We’re about to embark on a tour in a few months and losing Van would definitely hurt the band, but he is replaceable.
“What about the band?”
He shakes his head and leaves me standing in the closet while he goes and sits on the bed. After he sets the pile of clothes down, his fingers are pushing through his hair. “There isn’t an easy way to say this.”
“Just spit it out. It’s not like you can shock me any more than you have.”
“Laura thinks it’s best that I take some time off.”
“Of course she does because you’re fucking her, too.”
Van meets my eyes, and for a minute I think he’s about to deny it, but doesn’t. Instead, he breaks his gaze and looks everywhere but at me.
“I’m going to check into rehab, Z. That’s why I’m here. I want you to wait for me, to hold off on the divorce. To give us a chance when I get out.”
I swallow hard at his words but shake my head. “I can’t, Van. What you did…” I turn around and head into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I turn on the water to drown out the wave of tears that is about to take over my body. Van and I had so much going for us, and he ruined it. One mistake and our world came tumbling down around us. If he’s addicted to sex, that means he’s been doing this longer than I know. I can’t bring myself to ask him how long he’s been cheating because I don’t want to know the answer. It’s hard knowing that I wasn’t enough for him, that he had to seek pleasure elsewhere. I have loved that man since I was seventeen and this is how he shows me what that love has meant.
When I feel as if the tears have subsided I look in the mirror at myself and wonder how the hell I got here, to where I am now in life. Over a month ago I was happy, ready to start a family with the man I love, and now look at me. I’m a shell, barely able to function all because I allowed that man to break me.
Van is still sitting on the bed when I return. He looks up at me and stands. I’m tempted to go to him, to ask him to ease the pain he’s caused, but know that it’ll only cause more in the end.
“What you’re asking of me is unfair. What you’ve done to me, I will never be able to forget and right now forgiveness is not in my vocabulary.”
“I made a mistake, Zara.”
“But how many times, Van? Because I caught you and you haven’t stopped. Not to mention I know you’ve been with Laura, who I might add is someone we employ. I can’t trust you, and it hurts to say that because you’re someone I have loved for a long time. If you have a problem, get help. Do what you need to do for yourself, but don’t go in thinking that I’m going to be here waiting when you get out.”
I leave Van in the bedroom and head back downstairs. It’s my hope that he’ll use the time to gather the rest of his belongings and take them with him. I need to move on and not seeing his stuff every day will help that.
It’s an hour or so later when he comes downstairs, looking for plastic bags. He finds me sitting in the dark and whispers into my ear that he’s sorry. I believe that he is, but it’s too late. I don’t know if there will ever be a time that I won’t close my eyes and see him with Laura’s assistant on her desk or even picture him with Laura.
When Van leaves, I let the tears flow freely. It’s not a hard cry where I am hyperventilating and doubled over in pain, but one that proves that Van and I are over for good. The high school romance has finally come to an end.
I scour the house for my phone, desperate to send off a message to Laura that she’s fired, only when I find it, there’s a message from Levi thanking me for coming over earlier and asking if I’d like to have coffee with him sometime.
My reply to him is immediate with a resounding yes, and I tell him that tomorrow morning would work. I even go as far to suggest a place to meet and at what time. It’s only after I send the message when I realize that maybe I lo
ok a bit desperate, but I don’t care. I like his company, and I love that our lifestyles are exact opposites of each other’s, and yet we seem to have a connection. He’s someone that I feel comfortable with, and it’s my hope that he’ll become a good friend.
Chapter 12
Levi
I don’t know what came over me, asking Zara to coffee. My intent was to thank her for coming over and once that sentence was typed out my fingers took over, adding the part about getting coffee. I didn’t even think about it until I looked at the blue bubble and felt a bout of anxiety start to take over as I realized that I probably overstepped the imaginary line in a new relationship. Not that we’re in one or ever will be, but I want to be her friend because I think she could use one right about now.
My mama saw the horror on my face as I was looking at my phone and took it from me. I expected her to chide me, to remind me that the mother of my children had just died and that I should be thinking about them, but she didn’t. She smiled and said that she liked Zara.
Thing is, I like her too and I can’t figure out why. She is nothing like me or the women I’ve dated in the past and the complete opposite of Iris. Truthfully, that scares the shit out of me because after talking to her yesterday, she is nowhere near ready for any guy, let alone someone like me.
I have never understood why people cheat. My parents, both sets of grandparents, and Barbara and her husband have all been married forever. That was what I wanted when I married Iris. Even though we were young, I was determined to make it work. She said fame changed me and she was probably right, but it changed us. She never complained about the money that was coming in or the fancy clothes she got to buy. Iris never worried about buying the girls everything they needed or wondered if she’d have money to buy groceries. My fame took care of all that. It wasn’t until she decided she wasn’t happy that it became a problem for her.