Return to Us

by Christy Pastore

  Once upon a time, I had relished a life of being alone. Now, I hated being alone, the silence was deafening. I used to take comfort in the beauty nature held, it’s one of the reasons I bought the house in Big Sky. Instead of basking in the serenity of nature and peace, every owl screech and whoosh of wind irritated me. I’d escaped Los Angeles to clear my head, this place usually did the trick, but I found myself becoming more and more agitated.

  Grabbing a bottle of tequila, I pushed open the sliding glass door and plopped down on the lounger. My wife wasn’t taking my calls. She’d send me the occasional text asking me how I was doing—checking in to make sure that I was still alive.

  Snow began to fall, and I tossed another few logs onto the fire. Pain flooded my heart, and the ache was excruciating. I wanted Tinley. I wanted my wife here with me or I wanted to be with her in East Harbour, but she didn’t want to see me. Charles gave me a lot to think about, but if Tinley wouldn’t even take my calls, how would we begin the process?

  “Matt,” I heard a voice call from behind me. “Are you here?”

  Grady James?

  “Just follow the smoke,” I called out. “James, is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” he shouted, his voice vibrating off the glass as he trekked down the walkway.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “My fiancée sent me,” he answered, taking the bottle from my hand.

  “By all means, be my guest.”

  “It’s fucking cold up here.”

  “Was the snow your first clue?” I joked.

  Grady planted himself in a chair near the fire. “I’m going to give you a pass on that joke, Barber, since I figure all this fresh air is fucking with your brain cells.”

  “Nope, just the tequila.”

  “It’s too cold for me to beat around the bush, Matt. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Well, at present, I’m getting drunk and thinking about throwing some axes. What about you, James?”

  He laughed. “By the way, I’m staying the night and you better make some of those fucking delicious breakfast burritos in the morning or those homemade doughnuts.”

  “So, I take it Harlow sent you to talk to me about the flowery relationship stuff because you’re a sensitive guy and she’s out looking for a real man?”

  “You’re funny,” he said, helping himself to a beer. “Let me guess, Alex was running his mouth about me being a model again?”

  I tipped the bottle back to my lips and took a long sip. “He says because you love playing dress up that you’re more in tune with your softer side.”

  Grady shook his head. “Fucker. That guy is in for an ass kicking.”

  “Are you going to give it to him?” I howled in laughter and a coyote howled back, at least I think it was a coyote. James sat frozen his beer bottle inches from his mouth as his eyes widened with fear. I was a scared myself, but I’d never admit that fact.

  “Relax, James, they won’t attack, we have a fire.”

  “Thanks for the reassurance,” he said, tipping the bottle to his mouth.

  “So how’d you find me?”

  “Alex received a notification from your alarm system and Harlow mentioned to me that you haven’t been home, well, back to East Harbour, in weeks. I guess she found Tinley crying in the middle of the wine aisle at Luscia’s market.”

  My eyes screwed shut. “Fuck.”

  “What’s going on with you two?”

  I expelled a deep breath. “I don’t know. All I know is that she won’t talk to me.”

  He leveled his gaze in my direction. “Did you cheat on her?”

  I tossed another log into the fire pit. “No, I did not, but I thought about it, which I admitted to Tinley. I thought we were good. I thought we were on the right track.”

  “As someone who failed miserably at marriage, I’m going give you a bit of advice. Marriage is hard work. It’s day in and day out complete fucking work and you only fail if you stop trying.”

  I picked at the label of my beer bottle. “Are you saying that you stopped trying with Lululamoan?”

  He huffed a laugh and propped his foot up on the stone of the fire pit. “No, I honored our vows and there was nothing I could have done to stop her from cheating.”

  I laughed. “She was the wrong one for you, James. Heather loved herself more than she loved you.”

  Grady ran a hand through his hair and stared into the flames. “Alex told me a bit of advice that has stuck with me—love isn’t about who you see yourself with, it’s about who you can’t see yourself living without. When I looked at my life and Harlow wasn’t there, I was hollow. Heather left me in pieces and Harlow brought peace to my life. She filled every part of my heart that was empty. Go home to your wife and fix what’s broken.”

  “I don’t know what is broken,” I admitted, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Tinley knows, let her talk to you, just listen—then you can begin to heal.”

  My eyes darted to my very empty house, and then back to the world stretched before me, uncertainty and fear lurked out there. There was so much distance between me and Tinley, and along that same vein—every day that passed took me further away from her, from us. The thought of losing my wife terrified me and I needed to fight to get our marriage back on track. It was as simple as that.

  “Well, well, well,” Grady said, inclining his head in my direction. “What is this, a certain action star was a Parallel Clothing Company model in college?”

  Grady held up his phone and sure enough there I was shirtless and holding a surfboard with the brand’s logo.

  “How’d you find that?”

  “I’ve learned some ops tactics from Alex,” he informed. “I cannot wait to show everyone this little gem.”

  “Go ahead, James, hit send on that photo, and I’ll show you what I can do with a deck of playing cards, vice grips, and a lighter.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Another one of your magic tricks, I’m shaking in my boots.”

  “Sure,” I said, before taking a swig of beer. “The disappearing Grady James.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve learned a few ops tactics of my own.”

  BARBER AND DUPREE HAVE sexual chemistry to burn.

  The sun dipped just below the horizon, as I tossed back the last drop of my drink. Shades of oranges and yellows spread over every inch of the terminal. On-set photos of Georgina and me were splashed all over the internet. This was a positive headline however it set the wrong tone. We were supposed to have chemistry. If we didn’t we weren’t doing our jobs.

  “Georgina and Matthew were constantly laughing and flirting on set. The pair often passed love notes to one another. I caught them making out in their trailers on several occasions during filming.”

  Total fucking garbage. Georgina’s former bodyguard—she had fired him months ago—was running to the tabloids for a quick payout.

  “Friends fear for Matthew’s safety due to Tinley’s crazy temper. Atkinson has a penchant for axe throwing. Sources close to the couple say that she has a collection of axes decorating their homes in Montana and East Harbour.”

  More lies. More garbage. False. False. Fucking False.

  My heart ached, and I didn’t even relish the burn of the whiskey as it coated my throat. It wasn’t the booze I needed, it was the dulling sensation that the alcohol provided. I didn’t know why I bothered, I was numb without the stuff. These rumors were killing my marriage. All I wanted was to get home to my wife and hold her in my arms. Tinley hadn’t returned any of my texts or calls. It didn’t help matters that my flight had been delayed. Lucky for me I knew a guy with access to an entire airline and Alex had a plane ready for me in less than two hours.

  One of the airline staff approached. “Sir, the plane is ready for you to board.”

  I thought we’d put all this affair business behind us, but it didn’t take much for the paparaz
zi to reignite the rumors with these goddamn pictures. I was committed to my wife, to our marriage.

  After the miscarriage, Tinley wanted to be alone. She wouldn’t let me comfort her, and I needed her. Needed to grieve with her and she slipped away from me. We were two ships passing in the night. Perhaps I was looking for any kind of human connection, which is why I’d developed closeness with Georgina. When my wife wouldn’t talk to me, Georgina would.

  After slapping a fifty-dollar bill onto the bar, I hauled my bag up onto my shoulder. With the airline staff escort, I walked briskly to the gate, and then handed my ticket to the agent. She smiled. “Welcome aboard Sterling Air, Mister Barber, we’re honored to have you flying with us today.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Mister Barber,” the pilot greeted me. “I apologize for the delay. I want to assure you that we’ll have you in East Harbour in five hours.”

  Too tired for small talk, I nodded and then headed down the jet’s aisle. The flight attendant took care of my bags while I settled back into my seat. My thumb hovered over Tinley’s name as I contemplated what to say.

  Me: I’m on my way home, beautiful. I will see you in five short hours.

  Me: I love you.

  I waited for as long as I could before I was instructed to place my phone in airplane mode. The red bubble with the number one in it finally appeared.

  Georgina: These rumors. My heart is breaking for you.

  Georgina: I keep denying them. Perhaps, I should get a boyfriend. lol

  Ignoring the texts, I swiped airplane mode and shoved my phone into the console beside me. Georgina had done nothing wrong. She was a nice enough person, and there was no denying that she was a talented actress. We talked about normal things, the weather, books that should be movies, her charity work, and mine. She told me about the time she spent helping the victims of the devastating earthquake in Mexico. I’d wanted to help in the relief efforts, but all I could do was make a donation since I was tied up with a project.

  Georgina’s daughter, Paloma, had lost her birth parents when she was only six months old. Abandoned and in an orphanage, Georgina found her and fell in love. A wonderful story, and somehow the allure of family tugged at me, pulling me towards a mirage. It was inexcusable.

  In reality, the two of us had little in common. Georgina was into politics and Human Interest pieces. I cared about restoring cars and had found a renewed love for cooking. And thanks to my common interest of surfing with Grady James, he had me reading up on coral bleaching and windfarms. And at the end of the day it was Tinley who I wanted to cook dinner with and share “day in the life” stories.

  Why had I ever thought I was missing something, something more?

  There was no answer. I sighed heavily, my mistakes haunted me and I had too many to count. All I could do, all I wanted to do was spend my days with Tinley. She was the love of my life and I needed to get to her.

  I didn’t know what I would be walking into when I returned home. All I knew was that I needed to see Tinley’s face and feel her skin against mine. We’d been apart for weeks while I wrapped this latest movie. The plane soared above the city lights, passing through the clouds.

  I’m coming home, Tinley.

  BEFORE MY HUSBAND BECAME my husband, and only weeks after that New Year’s Eve where I’d fallen in love with him, a story broke in the media that Matthew had an affair with a bartender from Bozeman.

  He told me that he didn’t want to drag me into a scandal, and suggested that we cool things off. “I’m not dragging you into a mess, and no one knows that we are dating aside from close friends. Let me take care of this and then I hope that you’ll come back to me.”

  I respected him for that and during that time, he’d kept me in the loop of everything that happened. The bartender was a young college student. Her father lost his job, and her mother was ill. At twenty-one, her college dreams were shattering. Desperate, she saw an opportunity when Matthew walked into the bar and she shamelessly flirted with him all evening.

  Knowing that Matthew was a “motor head,” she had her friend take the keys to her car, with the keys in the ignition for hours the battery eventually drained. When she was helplessly stranded in the parking lot, knowing Matthew would try to help, that is when her friend snapped photos. She sold her story to the tabloids, but the truth was revealed fairly quickly.

  I trusted Matthew then and I was right to do so. Why couldn’t I see past this issue with Georgina? My husband had never given me a reason not to trust him.

  With a mug of coffee in hand, I stared at his text messages. My heart filled up at his words, warmth spreading through my ribs.

  I love you.

  I’m coming home.

  I’d met Georgina once. She had starred in an independent film, based on a book I’d loved. When I found out that she’d been cast alongside Matthew, I had to meet her. I told her, “I’m thrilled you’ll be working with my husband. I loved your work on Bad Girls.”

  Foreshadowing? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

  Aside from that, our problems ran deeper than Georgina Dupree. I’d done this. I needed to fight. I wanted to fight. I needed my husband. He loved me and I loved him. I found strength in those words and love is always a good place to start.

  I tapped at my phone’s screen staring at the story about me having an axe collection. I had a good laugh session that turned into a crying meltdown in the shower. Labeling me as crazy, and suggesting that I could hurt Matthew—that was crazy.

  My eyes darted around the space covered in a neutral color palette of whites and ivories. Not an axe in sight. Throw pillows, yes. If the media wanted a real juicy story, throw pillows were my weakness. I had cabinets full of them.

  And here I stood, in the shadow of the flames, frozen to my spot as the sound of snow crunching under tires came to a halt. The engine silenced and my heart stuttered. What would I say to him? What would he say to me?

  The door opened, the wheels of his luggage rolled against the wood in the mudroom. The familiar sound of Matthew rustling about, taking off his shoes and his coat, that sound was a comfort of relief to my heart. Sweat formed along my hairline, and my palms.

  Matthew stood in the doorway, his hair mussed and his hazel eyes wild. “You’re up.” He looked ruggedly handsome wearing a blue and white flannel over a grey t-shirt and dark denim. His hazel eyes held that same captivating smolder that I’d seen many times. How could I have lived all these weeks without seeing his beautiful face?

  My husband was home, here with me after what felt like an eternity without him. I swallowed my emotions, swallowed my hurt, and all my fears.

  I nodded, glancing at the time on my phone. “I am. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Yeah, I’ll get it,” he said, striding towards me. I pivoted before he reached me and walked into the kitchen.

  “I take it you read the garbage printed online,” he prompted.

  That elicited a snort from me. “Yeah, that’s why I’m up so early—sharpening my axes.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry this has turned into a damn circus. I’m sorry this is hurting you.”

  “I hurt every day, Matthew, it never goes away.”

  He ran his hands down his face, pressing his palm to his eyes. “What can I do? I want to take this pain away.”

  I took a deep breath. “I have so much to tell you,” I said, looking into his eyes.

  “Tell me everything, let me in, Tinley.”

  My fingers trembled as I covered my lips. “I feel empty all the time. I’m scared, I’ve been scared since the day I fell in love with you. Every day I feared that you’d leave me and I don’t know why I am so weak.” All the words came rushing out—my truth spilling out from the darkest corner and into the light.

  Matthew walked around the island to wrap his arms around me. “You are not weak. That is the last label I would ever place on you.”

  Emotion welled in my chest at the contrariety of it all. “I
’m a good liar, Matthew. I’m an actress after all.”

  His eyes were sad when they met mine. “Talk to me.”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “About a month after Ella was kidnapped, I went to her store. I had break-down—crying, wailing—ugly tears, not pretty girl tears. That was the same day that you were texting me and asking me to visit you. I was going to be in Beverly Hills.”

  “I remember,” he replied, motioning for me to take a seat at the island.

  “When Ella was kidnapped it brought back a flood of memories. It reminded me of my mother, and her stalker, and her murder, and my father growing distant—it triggered a fear inside me.” Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back steeling myself. “For the first time in a long time, those memories resurfaced and being with you and in your home, things were going so well . . . too well for me.”

  His brows pinched together and he shook his head. “What are you saying?”

  The dam broke and the tears slid down my cheeks. “I tried to push you away, because I didn’t want to lose you. I am such a coward, Matthew.” I drew my knee up to my cheek. I closed myself off using my hair as a shield. Shame and embarrassment flooded my veins.

  “Oh, Tinley, sweetheart,” his voice was low. “Look at me please.”

  I took a deep breath, and swiped the tears away. “After my mother died, and I’d left the show—that fall as you know, I attended boarding school in Switzerland. My roommate, Livia, well she never returned the following January . . .” My voice shook, as I raised my head. “She didn’t return because she had been killed.”

  His eyes closed, and his chin dropped to his chest. “I am so sorry.”

  I placed my hand on his heart. “That day in Ella’s boutique, I decided to take the biggest leap of my life and be with you. I wasn’t going to let fear take up space in my heart any longer. Grabbing fear by the balls and all, boy, wasn’t I strong?”

  Matthew’s hand covered mine. “You are strong. Look at all you’ve been through and you are still standing.”

  “Every day I picked up the phone to call you, and then when I did you had gone back to Texas . . . and your grandmother died. It was like my poison seeped into your life.” My words were choppy, and my thoughts scattered. I couldn’t think straight, all the pain and the weight of my admission flooded my brain.