“I didn’t stick my dick in any of them. And therein lies the difference.”
“God why do you have to be so fucking crude!”
“Get out.”
“Oh, and by the way, you can’t be engaged to Little Miss Hicktown USA when you’re still fucking married to me!”
I opened the front door, gesturing to the body guards with my glass. “Either march your stupid ass out of here, or be thrown out. Your choice.”
She huffed, stomping through the doorway.
I slammed the door, downing the drink in one gulp before heading for my bed.
Unforgiven
V
I spent the night awake in the basement trundle bed next to Matthew, breaking into fresh tears every fifteen minutes.
He held me and left me to my own thoughts, not urging me to talk about Keaton, the weekend, or the time that we’d been apart.
Keaton was gone.
He was less than a half a mile away at his mother’s house, but he was gone. Gone from my life, and gone from my future.
Matthew didn’t know what to make of my hysterics, so instead he just kept me wrapped in his arms like he used to. “Vivian. Please try to sleep.”
I nodded, but I knew that it wasn’t going to happen.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the past, about the baby…
And about Keaton.
I couldn’t sleep knowing that I had new, beautiful outfits and jewelry, including Keaton’s diamond, tucked neatly into my suitcase in the corner. The promises I’d made to him, to give us a chance, now sounded like nothing but a bunch of lies.
I couldn’t take off the blue bracelet. Of everything that he’d given me, I loved the little charm the most.
When I’d turned to see Keaton standing on Gram’s porch, staring at me with the most broken hazel eyes I’d ever seen, I wanted to run to him.
But his gaze had quickly turned angry, and then he was gone.
The morning was quiet. Matthew made coffee for us both, talking easily with Gram about some news story that was playing on the TV in the kitchen. I sipped the coffee, knowing that I looked like complete and utter shit, but not caring. When the story about the Round Up Murders (as they’d been so cleverly labeled by the media) came on, Gram reached for the TV remote to turn up the volume.
“…Round-Up Murders. Director Keaton Thane has been taken in for questioning this morning, but sources say that he had spent the weekend with his family for his brother’s wedding in Pennsylvania. More on this story as it develops.”
“So frightening. Vivie, did Keaton say anything about the murders? Does he have any idea who’s involved?”
I stiffened at Keaton’s name.
They think he’s involved? No! I have to call him!
Matthew pushed up from his chair, moving to the coffee pot.
Tugging at my hair, I forced my tone to sound disinterested. “No, he didn’t.”
Gram gave me a nod, her eyes shifting between me and Matthew. “Will you be going home with Matthew, then?” She urged, sipping her coffee.
I swallowed hard, focusing on the sunflower design in the placemat. “I think so, Gram.”
I could feel Matthew’s entire body relax from across the small kitchen. He turned and gave me a reassuring smile, nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Staring at him, I finally had a chance to fully see him after almost a year. He was thirty now. A little taller than Keaton, his thoughtful brown eyes lit up and displayed his every emotion. He’d lost a little weight, but was more muscular, and I wondered if he was using the gym equipment in his basement.
Our basement.
“Can we take a walk?” He asked, and I nodded, forcing myself to stand and follow him to the porch.
“Bring a sweater, Vivie, it’s chilly this morning,” Gram called.
I nodded, grabbing the sweater she’d knitted for me in the spring. Matthew opened the doors, and when we walked to the end of the driveway, he turned.
“Will you hold my hand?”
I gave him an awkward nod.
Keaton would have just taken my hand.
“Thank you,” he replied, taking my fingers in his. The movie camera charm dangled between us, and if he noticed, he said nothing.
We walked past the old church and the cemetery, continuing toward the main road before I finally turned to him. “Matthew, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I ran. You were grieving, too, and you needed me too. It wasn’t just about me. I realize that now.”
He gripped my hand. “We both did our best. But what happened to us wasn’t our fault.”
I nodded, stubbornly refusing to start crying again. He saw my struggle, continuing.
“And you were just so young. You still are. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason. Being young and scared can sometimes feel like anger.”
I listened to his reassuring tone, brushing at a tear that escaped.
“And anger is part of grieving. But please don’t be angry with me. Even if you don’t want to come home, just don’t be angry with me anymore. I can’t stand it. I love you too much.”
“I’m not,” I cried, turning to him, letting him hold me next to the train tracks. “And I do want to go home. I want you in my life. I never… stopped… loving you.”
I tried the words on, and they didn’t fit.
I could tailor them with time, and routine, and miles between me and Keaton, but I didn’t know if they would ever fit again.
We held each other for a long time, silent. We had no idea where we were going, but we continued walking. When the video store caught my eye, I bit my lip, looking up at Matthew. “I need to say good-bye to Robin. And I would like for you to meet her.”
“Anything,” he agreed, taking my hand again.
We walked to the big Victorian house on the hill, and part of me prayed that Keaton was still there. When I rang the doorbell, Robin answered with a gigantic grin, throwing the screen door open and hugging Matthew. “You exist!” She cried, and Matthew laughed, patting her shoulder.
“Hi, Robin. Nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise. Okay, Viv, before you quit the store and leave me for this gorgeous hunk of a man, I have two things for you. Hold on,” she turned for the kitchen.
“Where’s your mom?”
“Sleeping. Anyway, here,” she returned with an envelope and a DVD case, handing them over to me. “From my brother.”
I stared at the title, my chin quivering.
“I don’t know what’s up with the movie-he walked down to the video store at, like, one AM just to get it for you. He said that it was some kind of inside joke. I was supposed to give you this movie and this letter. So, done and done. And now, give me a huge hug, and promise me you won’t stay away long,” she ordered.
“Unforgiven? That’s an old movie. You don’t even like Westerns,” Matthew commented as Robin gripped me tightly.
“Give me a second,” I whispered, carrying the movie case and the letter out to the front yard.
When I opened the envelope, I managed to read every word before crumbling.
Dearest V,
I can’t decide which part of our weekend was my favorite. After much thought, it’s definitely a tie between our kiss outside the mall, and the night I went down on you in the hotel.
I covered my mouth with my hand, tears burning my already swollen eyes.
Either way, well done. Your acting skills are slightly better than subpar, and I’m sure you’ll make a fantastic B actress someday. If you’re ever interested in taking your clothes off for me again, you have my number.
Good luck in Ohio.
-Keaton
Inside the letter was a check from Keaton.
$2085.46.
“Vivian?” Robin ran across the yard as I dropped to my knees, her brows furrowed. She grabbed the letter from my hand and scanned it, and her jaw tightened. “That fucking asshole. I’m gonna kill him.”
“What’s wrong?” Matthew reac
hed for me, turning toward the letter, but Robin flung it behind her back, forcing a smile.
“Nothing. My brother is just a jerk. But Vivian knew that before she agreed to spend the weekend with him,” Robin added with a pointed look my way.
“What did he write to her? Give me the letter, Robin,” Matthew ordered. I’d never heard him speak so forcefully, and Robin shook her head.
“No, no, it’s better if you just take her home and-…,”
“Give me the fucking letter. Now.”
My jaw fell open, and Robin arched one studded eyebrow.
I’d seen the way she dealt with rude customers in the video store, so I couldn’t even begin to imagine the hell that she was about to unleash on the man before her.
My throat constricted as she finally shrugged, handing him the piece of paper. “Well, I warned you.”
“Matthew-…,”
“…kiss outside the mall… hotel… what the fuck?” He lifted his dark eyes to me, and I climbed to my feet, digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands as I balled my fists.
“I…,”
“You what? Did you sleep with him?”
I let my mouth close, and that was all the answer that he needed.
“Were you planning on telling me?”
“Yes! Yes I was going to tell you, after we had time to talk, which we really haven’t, it’s only been a few hours since-…,”
“You cried all night, Vivian! All night. For him? For this kind of man? This is what you want?”
He wrenched the letter through the air between us, and I jolted, shaking my head.
“No! No that’s not what I want, I-…,”
“Sounds like she’s not sure what she wants,” Robin put in, and both Matthew and my heads swung in her direction.
“That’s not true!” I shouted.
“Bye, Viv.” She turned toward the house, and I ground my teeth together.
“Fuck you Robin!”
“Eh, you’ll thank me later,” she called, getting into her car and slamming the door.
Matthew turned to me angrily. “Okay. Okay, I’m done. This ends here and now. Look at me,” he demanded, and I stood my ground, lifting my face bravely to his. “Tell me what this fucking check is for. Because I swear to God, if you slept with him for money, we’re over. Then you are not the person I fell in love with.”
I rolled my shoulders back, brushed at my tears one more time, and cleared my throat.
Lie.
Lie, lie, lie.
“I needed a dress and nice clothes for the weekend. Jewelry. A hotel room. He paid me back for them. When I slept with him, I was very drunk, and I don’t even remember it. He was, too. I wish it had never happened. I wish this whole weekend had never happened. I wish I’d never met Keaton Thorne. Ever.”
I delivered my lines with fluidity, my even gaze never breaking once from his.
He considered my words, his eyes moving back to the letter and the check once before turning back to me.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he took a deep, careful breath. “I’m sorry that I yelled at you.”
I exhaled, trying not to appear too relieved.
He believes me. I’m a liar. I’m a manipulative, scheming, fucking liar.
I’m an actress.
“I’m sorry,” I replied, and suddenly, I was in his arms.
Forgiven.
Staring at the movie case in the grass, I focused on Clint Eastwood’s profile in the sunlight.
And I went home with Matthew that afternoon.
All of my meager belongings fit into the back of his Jeep, and I held Gram on the front porch, crying into her shoulder and thanking her for all that she’d done for me.
“I’m always here, Vivie. If you change your mind, just come home.”
I smiled at the word home.
The drive to Ohio took three and a half hours, and I talked to Matthew on and off during the ride, mostly about our families.
“My parents wanted to know if we’d come over for dinner tonight. I told them it might be too soon…,”
“Thank you. I really just want to… spend the evening alone, okay? Just us.”
“Absolutely.”
“Have you seen my mom or dad?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Sometimes. At the store, around town.”
“Do they look okay?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, setting the cruise control. “Your dad looks tired. He worries about you.”
I turned to look out the window, and he reached for my hand. I let him hold it between us.
“We’ll just take things slow, okay? I’m not going to push you. Take as much time as you need.”
I gave him a thankful smile, forcing my cheeks to rise and fall before turning back to the window.
Our bungalow was exactly as I’d left it. Framed pictures of me and Matthew lined the book shelves, but I did notice that the ones of when I was pregnant had been put away. I was thankful; I couldn’t have handled seeing them at that moment.
“I’m going to be honest with you,” Matthew began, settling my suitcases to the floor next to the door. “I went through a hard time after you left. I tore the… the nursery apart… and eventually turned it into an office. I’m sorry that I didn’t ask you first.”
“Matthew. I left. I had no right to an opinion on that. And I understand,” I added, encouraging him to go on. I tried to imagine him tearing anything apart. Very rarely had I ever gotten a glimpse of his temper, and I felt a deep stab of guilt in my heart.
“There is a futon couch in there, and I’ll sleep there. Until you’re ready.”
“No.” I crossed the living room to him, reaching for his hands. “No, you stay in the bed. I’ll sleep in that room. It’s not fair for you to give up your bed. You didn’t run. I did.”
“I refuse to let you sleep on that futon. It’s hard as a rock and you’ll feel like ass in the morning.”
I giggled at his words, comforted by the familiarity of his expressions that I’d missed for so long. “Well, I don’t want you to feel like ass, either.”
He adjusted his glasses before wrapping his arms around me. “Listen. If you lay next to me, like you did last night, I will respect your boundaries, Vivian. I won’t push you. And to be honest, I would really like for you to be close to me. All night. Again,” he added, his deep voice coaxing a natural stir deep in my stomach.
“Okay,” I agreed with a whisper.
“And I need you to tell me when it’s okay to kiss you. I’ve been waiting for so long, and since I’m not pushing you, I just need a sign. Okay?”
I lifted my face, my eyes swimming with tears. “Kiss me now, Matthew.”
He whispered my name, no hesitation in his movements as he grabbed my upper arms and lifted me to him.
His mouth-our mouths-remembered, reacted, and the combination was comforting, familiar, and so very warm.
His tongue parted my lips, and I tasted him, wrapping my arms around his neck. After a moment, I could feel him back off slightly, slowing our kiss.
And then he stopped.
His long sigh against my forehead became breathy, tortured words. “I hate that you slept with him.”
I opened my eyes, and as his hands fell away, I took a step backward.
“Matthew?”
“I’m sorry. I do. I loved that I was the only man who had ever touched you. I don’t know what to say. I know it sounds primal and-and irrational-but I hate knowing his mouth was all over you.”
I winced, remembering Keaton’s letter.
“I… understand,” I managed, turning for the stairs before I broke into tears. He let me go, and when I opened the door to the nursery, I was met with white walls, an old, oak desk, and the futon couch.
Gone were the airplanes, the crib, and the teddy bear that Gram had made for my son. Gone were the tiny onesies that said “Daddy’s Little Slugger,” and the changing table filled with Pampers. I wrenched open the closet, finding noth
ing but empty hangers and an old printer, several boxes labeled BILLS, and Matthew’s baseball equipment.
“I put it all in storage. It’s not gone.”
“I can’t believe it’s over.”
“We can go to the cemetery whenever you’re ready, Vivian.”
“I’ll never be ready.”
“Yes, you will. You’ll be ready. You’ll talk to counselors, who will help you learn how to grieve, and cope. I’ll go with you. I’m going to help you get through this. Life has to go on, Vivian. We’re not alone. It helped me to talk to other couples who have been through this.”
I stared blankly at the wall that used to say RORY in big, block letters.
“Please… Matthew, just leave me alone.”
He replied with silence, and I heard the soft clasp of the door.
Lowering to the futon, I curled into a ball and closed my eyes.
28 Days Later
K
The show must go on.
… Or some shit like that.
The funding for the movie was approved. I had to thank the Round-Up Killer at large for creating the giant media frenzy that only fed into the movie hype. We were going to film in Utah, at an amusement park near the mountains.
I ended up turning down Idlewild Park for the filming location. I never wanted to go back to that park again, not for as long as I lived.
Round-Up was going to be the film of my career, the one that launched me into the kind of celebrity status that I’d been waiting for. I had actors and actresses already vying for the parts, willing to negotiate their contracts for pay that was well below their average.
“…the lead. Great slasher film actresses are traditionally hot with big tits, and I don’t think we should stray from the norm on this one,” Frank was saying, earning a chuckled approval from the new casting director, Max Lander.
“Yeah, but do we want a newbie with talent, or some washed-up Disney star looking to finally show some skin?”
“My money’s on the Disney princess.”
“Keaton? What do you think?” Max urged.
I stared out over the Los Angeles skyline, the view from my posh new office distracting me from whatever the hell Frank was chortling about. “About?”
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