Tinley: Wile E. Coyote is an addict? It’s horrible.
Matthew: Trapped in his own personal hell.
Tinley: And I totally agree with you about ACME being Amazon Prime. That’s some epiphany.
Tinley: But, with all that money he used to buy ACME products why not just buy food?
Matthew: I’m going with the theory that Wile was a beta tester for the company.
Tinley: That would explain why they failed time and time again. Poor Wile.
Matthew: To which, I say, fuck that bird.
Tinley: I think I just got sentimental over a cartoon coyote.
Matthew: Do you want to hear my theory on Tom and Jerry?
Matthew: I take it you did not want to hear my theory on Tom and Jerry.
Matthew: Tinley?
Matthew: Well, the guy finally sobered up long enough to get a few takes of the scene.
Matthew: It wasn’t pretty.
Matthew: I’m done for the day. Be home in a few.
Matthew: Now, I’m worried something has happened to you.
Tinley: Nothing happened to me, but Ella is missing.
Matthew: What do you mean missing?
Tinley: As in someone took her the night of Holliday’s party. She’s been missing for nearly forty-eight hours. You know what that means.
Once I climbed inside my Range Rover, I called Tinley.
“Tinley, babe, you need to breathe.”
“I’m trying, but my friends are hurting and I’m out here playing the baking housewife instead of being there for them in a crisis.”
“They’re my friends too,” I reminded. “And I know you’re upset, but there’s no need for you to say things like that.”
“You’re right and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. But, my God, Matthew what if Ella”—she choked out a sob—“What if . . .”
I maneuvered up the mountainside, maintaining the speed limit despite everything inside me wanting to hit the gas to get to Tinley. “Let’s not think about ‘what ifs,’ let’s think positively. When I get home, I’ll call Ronan.”
“Okay, but I want to leave, right away.”
My heart clenched in my chest. “I won’t be able to leave with you. There’s no way the director will let me go unless it’s a direct family emergency.”
“Some things are beyond our control,” she murmured. “And more often than not we find ourselves succumbing to bad timing.”
There was something telling in the tone of her voice that pushed dread into the pit of my stomach.
One Month Later
AS I WALKED INTO La Vienne Rose, warmth settled around me. The smell of cinnamon and apples hung in the air and the rasp of Adele’s voice piped through the speakers. I stepped up to the rack of glittery dresses, a definite sign that the holiday party season was right around the corner. My hand coasted over the fabric.
“Tinley?”
I turned around at the sound of Ella Connolly’s sweet English accent. She was adorable wearing a sheer, printed blouse with a necktie and black skinny jeans. Her beaming smile was accented by her signature red lips.
“Hey, it’s so nice to see you,” I said, giving her a hug.
“You too,” she replied, releasing me from our hug. “I’ll have one of the gals put the looks Brianne pulled for you in a dressing room.”
Ella walked over to the cash wrap, and instructed the lady wearing a chic velvet jumpsuit to set up my dressing room. She led me around a table of scarves and handbags to the seating area with a sleek black couch and two leather club chairs. While she grabbed a bottle of sparkling water, she gestured for me to take a seat.
“So, what is your big interview all about?” she asked, handing me a glass.
“The show I’m on, it’s the thirtieth anniversary,” I answered, before taking a drink. “Some of the cast will be on The Chat and then we have a Q and A panel discussion with fans at The Paley Center.”
“Is that in Los Angeles?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Beverly Hills to be exact.”
An employee handed Ella a clipboard. She looked it over and then added her signature. “Thank you, Tiffany,” she replied, handing back the clipboard. Returning her gaze to me, she asked, “When do you leave?”
“Wednesday morning. It will nice to escape the cold for a few days.” The word escape made me think of Ella’s kidnapping and I had no intention of bringing it up, but curiosity got the better of me. “You seem to be handling things well, how are you doing?”
“I’m okay, for the most part,” she replied, picking a piece of lint from her jeans. “I’ve had a few restless nights and then a few with bad dreams. I’ll sleep better when the police catch Charlie.”
“I hope that happens sooner, rather than later.”
She laughed, running her fingers through her blonde hair. “Honestly, I can’t believe he’s been able to evade the authorities this entire time. He’s not what Alex refers to as the sharpest tool in the shed.”
“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,” I said, as my fingers trailed along the seam of the couch.
Ella grasped my hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Well, if your character ever gets kidnapped, I can provide some real emotions for you.”
I smiled. “May I ask what got you through that ordeal?”
“After Charlie hit me for the third time, it was a brief look at what the next days, weeks, or months of my life were going to be like. I made the decision that I wasn’t going to let this man win. It was a decision to do whatever it took to survive.”
“That’s incredible, I admire your strength.”
“Thank you. Holliday gave me some advice that stuck with me—she told me that what Charlie did to me was horrible. He stole something from me that night and during that time that I will never get back, but that the best punishment I could ever give him was to be happy. Living in fear would only steal more of my control, more of my power, and more of my life away. Moving on and getting out of bed every day, that’s how I don’t dare give him another second of my life.”
My heart ached, I was glad to hear that Holliday had given Ella this advice. Advice Holliday most likely wished that she had taken herself after her own traumatic experience.
The young woman in the velvet jumpsuit approached the seating area. “Miss Atkinson, your fitting room is ready.”
“Shall we,” Ella asked, nodding towards the dressing rooms.
“Yep, let’s do this,” I answered, pushing to my feet. “You know, there’s this Sip n’ Shop event in Manhattan the first Saturday of December, if you’re not busy you should come with me and Holliday—cranberry martinis, champagne, and loads of clothes.”
“Cocktails and shopping—what could be better. I would love to.” We stepped into the hallway. Fluffy white rugs dressed up the wooden floors. Billowy, blush-pink curtains hung on white rods serving as doors to each fitting room.
She showed me the looks that Brianne selected. There was a camel colored, belted midi that I couldn’t wait to slip into.
“I’ll be back to check on you,” she said. “In the meantime, if you need anything just call for Tiffany.”
As I began to undress, my phone pinged with a message. It was the tenth time today. My head told me to ignore him, but my heart wanted the opposite.
Matthew: I know that you’re coming out to California this week.
Matthew: I want to see you.
Matthew: Have dinner with me and stay the weekend.
A moment later, the distant image of a Matthew standing on the tarmac in Big Sky entered my thoughts.
Matthew: You know I can see that you are reading all my messages, right?
Matthew: Talk to me, Tinley.
The two of us hadn’t spoken since I returned to East Harbour. Things were crazy. Our schedules were out of sync. My hands shook as I took the dress off the hanger.
In between the gallery and filming, there wasn’t time for a relationship. At least that’s what I told myself. Truth be told, E
lla’s kidnapping triggered a fear. It led me to think about my mother’s murder.
My mother’s killer had followed her back to our building. The twentieth floor of the building was undergoing renovations. Her killer slipped into a worker’s uniform and then told the concierge he needed to inspect the floors above and below because of a possible electrical issue.
Red.
So much blood.
My stomach twisted. I couldn’t shake the memories of my hysterical screams when I found her lying in the foyer covered in blood.
Stabbed in the heart.
We didn’t know at the time, but her murderer was a fan. Later at the trial, he said if he couldn’t have her heart no one would. He stalked my mother for three years and we never knew about it. The shit that came out during the trial was horrifying. I pleaded with my father and Aunt Maggie to allow me to be there to look the man who murdered my mother in the eyes. After all, at seventeen-years-old, I was nearly an adult, therefore I could handle it. How very wrong I had been.
“I wanted to tear her heart from her body. Rip her vocal cords from her throat.”
Slipping the dress on over my head, I then tied the belt at the waist. Falling apart was not a luxury I allowed myself. Falling apart in my new friend’s store dressing room wasn’t going to happen.
Breathing deeply, I walked out to the main room and checked the dress from all angles.
“Oh, that color is lovely on you,” Ella exclaimed. “All you need now is a scarf and a pair of ankle boots.”
“Yes. Do you have pair?”
I didn’t wait for a response. Instead, I walked to the front of the boutique directing my attention to the shoe rack. I’d been a wreck since returning from Big Sky, but it had been a month, why couldn’t I get a grip on the situation? I’d spent a fair amount of time going through my mother’s things, praying that Matthew would call, and hating myself for ignoring him when he did.
I showed Ella the ones that I wanted to try on and let her know my size.
“I’ll get your size from inventory, be back in a snap.”
Ella and I parted ways just before the fitting rooms. I stripped out of the dress and then tried on a white pheasant blouse with a pair of dark jeans. My phone pinged again.
Matthew: I don’t know what happened between us. If this is over, I’d like to hear it from you.
Matthew: I’ll wait to hear from you.
Matthew: I’ll wait for you because I don’t want anyone else. I only want you.
Tears poured down my face and there was no stopping the waterworks. These weren’t pretty girl tears. This was full on shaking sobs accompanied by mascara stained paths down my cheeks. My back hit the dressing room mirror and I slid all the way down to the floor.
“Oh no, Tinley,” Ella whispered. “What’s wrong?”
I blinked through my tears. “So many things.” And then more tears came as I remembered the soapy thighs joke.
Ella helped me to my feet, and grabbed my clutch. “Let’s go to my office.” We walked down the hallway and past the stockroom.
Ella dropped a box of tissues along with a bottle of sparkling water onto the coffee table. Drying my eyes, I took a seat on her white leather lounge chair. A black floor mirror resided on the wall beside the couch where Ella tucked her feet underneath her.
“Okay, now what has you so upset?”
“Where to begin?”
“I find the beginning is the best place,” she said.
My hands wrung together. “My mother, she died when I was a teenager.” I reached for the bottle of water. “Did you know that?”
Ella shook her head. “No, but I’m so very sorry to hear that.”
“Actually, she was murdered in our family home. We lived in a penthouse on the Upper East Side.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Most of this information is available on the internet, but what isn’t, is the fact that I was the one who found my mother’s body.”
Ella’s hand covered her mouth, as she closed her eyes. “Oh my God.”
I nodded. “Yep, and just weeks after my seventeenth birthday—that was an added bonus of heartbreak. My dad he drifted away emotionally—he turned into a workaholic. I spent my time in between tutoring and the show. I couldn’t stand being in the house after she passed away, so I went to live with Aunt Maggie, my mom’s only sister.”
Ella said nothing. She sat there listening to me as I rambled on and on offering a nod or a patient smile.
My fingers swept over my layered gold necklaces. “My father became distant, and I’d left the show, unable to continue because it just didn’t feel right without my mother.” I decided to leave out the drama with Blair and how he kissed and fondled me. “I was adrift. After a pretty uneventful summer, I moved to Switzerland and started my senior year. My roommate, Livia, she became my best friend. We did everything together, and she was the one who got me interested in art. I developed an infatuation with all things black and white photography. Once the semester ended, Livia returned home to France. She and her parents were scheduled to visit Monaco for the holidays. I went home for winter break and my father introduced me to Gianna, the woman he would marry two years later. It didn’t bother me, sure I thought it might be too soon, but my dad was happy and I wasn’t about to play the role of the bratty teenager—too cliché. Anyway, in January I returned to Switzerland for spring semester. By the second day of classes, Livia hadn’t returned, but I wondered if her parents had extended the family trip. By the end of the week I felt that something was wrong. And not even an hour later, the head mistress told me that Livia had been killed outside Nice. She was killed in a train shootout with random terrorists. It was revealed later that her father was part of Simon Laurie’s inner circle.”
“As in Simon Laurie the South African arms dealer?”
“One in the same.” I nodded. “I’m going to fast forward a bit—my ex, Aiden—we were together a few years only for me to find out that I was the other woman. All that time, he’d been married and I had no clue. It ended abruptly, and without warning. No goodbye—nothing. Just over.”
She stared at me in disbelief. “Oh my God, Tinley,” Ella breathed, her fingers splayed across her forehead. “Your life is one tragedy after another.”
“You’re telling me. As you can see, everyone in my life whom I deeply care about has left me. If I’m being honest, your kidnapping just brought up so many emotions for me.”
She leaned forward. “Oh, sweetie, no, that was an isolated incident. You must not think that bears any likeness to your life. I can see why you would go there though.”
Tears slid down my cheeks again. “I started seeing someone. At least I think we . . . are dating. Despite the fact we haven’t actually labeled it.”
“You don’t need to be Facebook official to be in a relationship.”
I laughed. “No, I definitely don’t update my relationship status on Facebook. I only have a Facebook account because of Holliday.”
Leaning back against the couch, Ella shook with laughter. “Oh my God, can that girl Facebook.”
I cocked a brow. “Are we using Facebook as a verb now?”
Ella nodded, bringing her head to rest upon her fist. “I’m afraid so.”
“I was with him, the day I found out you’d been taken. Holliday was a mess. Ronan was beside himself and I kept thinking this was just another sign . . .”
Ella raised her hand. “Stop,” she ordered, with a laugh. “A few things—I spent months trying to come up with reasons why Alex and I shouldn’t be together. We set rules and we broke every one of them because we loved one another. Fear held us back. Tinley, don’t let fear hold you back. The way I see it, you’ve had enough tragedy in your life to last five lifetimes probably more.”
My hands shook as I dried my eyes and re-applied my mascara. I felt as vulnerable as a piece of art on display waiting for the next tremor to shake me off balance. Falling . . . hurtling to the floor and shattering into a million pieces.
> Ella stood, shoving her feet into her high heels. “Choose happy and fuck fear.”
Five words were all it took for me to take the biggest leap of my life.
I choose happy.
I choose me.
I choose him.
I choose us.
Now
MY WIFE WAS CRYING because I’d hurt her deeply. Pain was etched all over her face. Pain that I’d caused. My heart felt like a fist had reached in and grabbed it, squeezing with force. I’d only seen Tinley breakdown like this a few times. The anniversary of her mother’s death and when she found out that she’d miscarried our child.
Three years of marriage, six years together—the death of our child was the only part of our relationship that we’d been able to keep out of the media. At fifteen weeks, she was barely showing and had zero morning sickness.
Our baby had died, it was a Tuesday afternoon when we’d found out. I’d spent every day grieving the loss and trying to move forward. Tinley went into full work mode, and there wasn’t a project that she turned down. Charity events, guest spots on television shows, she even entertained the idea of a Lifetime movie and a season on Dancing with the Stars, and then Tinley was offered a supporting role on a prime-time television show. She said goodbye to Barrington Shores once again and took a leap with FX for a show called Beautiful March.
A small crowd had gathered, bringing out their phones and snapping pictures. I’d nearly forgotten that we were in public. Keeping my head down, I whispered, “Tinley, they’re watching.” I passed her a napkin under the counter.
Bowing her head, her golden blonde hair became a shield. After wiping her eyes, she grabbed her sunglasses sliding them on to cover her face.
She squeezed my leg. “Of course they’re watching. They’re always watching.”
“We chose this life,” I replied, picking up my beer glass.
“I chose a life with you, not them and certainly not her. Do you want to walk away from our marriage? If you do, tell me now.”
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