Tell Me Why It's Wrong

by B. Celeste

  “Can you just…” His eyes dull with hurt as he shakes his head. “Can you just stay out of it? There’s nothing going on with me and Leighton. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I’m cool with it and she seems happy. I’ve got plenty of friends anyway.”

  I can argue that easily, but I stay quiet.

  “So, rain check?” he prompts, backing toward the door.

  I nod once. “Sounds good. Let me know when you’re free and I’ll make sure to set time aside.”

  It’s never hard to flex my schedule when I’m not touring, but whatever is going on in Chase’s life might make things slightly more difficult. And as much as I want to know whoever this chick is that’s clearly got him flustered, I know I have no reason to butt in where I don’t belong. Brother or not, he deserves to have his secrets.

  After bringing the box to the kitchen with a note on it for Rylee, showering, and changing, I grab an early lunch and lock myself in my room to work.

  It’s a few hours of writing lyrics and trashing them, cursing myself for not feeling the song, and nearly throwing my earbuds across the room when my phone buzzes where it rests on the desk.

  I expect to see one of the guys’ names on the screen, maybe some ridiculous photo of Jax’s food since he loves wasting our time with pointless shit like that, a hounding Reg asking for progress updates, or a string of suggestive emojis from an old hookup that occasionally grace my phone when they want something from me.

  Instead, it’s Rylee’s name.

  Rylee: Thank you for the air fryer

  Rylee: You didn’t have to do that

  Grinning, I thumb out a reply before turning it on silent and shifting back to the open laptop in front of me.

  Garrick: I told you to stop saying that, but you’re welcome. Next time you tell me I don’t have to do anything I’ll find a way to punish you. And I’ll give you another promise, Rylee. You’ll like it.

  I wish I could see her reaction.

  I’m not surprised when she leaves the message on read without replying back.

  14

  Rylee

  I wake up early after only getting a few hours of sleep, too busy picking at my nails and skin like I’ve done ever since I was little when anxiety got the better of me. Not even the pretty view I’d gotten up to look at could sooth the jitters that submitting my piece to Sarina has caused.

  Her expression was unimpressed after skimming the article, and I had to remember what Garrick told me before I left. “Don’t let her walk all over you. You’re stronger than you think.”

  When Sarina asked how she was supposed to publish a piece without a name attached to the “supposed bride” of Garrick Matthews, I pointed out that the L.A. Free Press readership would double because everyone would be waiting for more answers to be reported. Her bosses would see the spike in online views and work toward the next follow-up to triple the attention. With the right connections and dollar amount, anyone could sway someone at the courthouse to talk, and for an even bigger buck, see the marriage certificate firsthand.

  But that person wouldn’t be me, and I’m dreading the countless people who would happily hand over money to see the information that’s bound to make headlines everywhere.

  I’d walked out of her office and couldn’t help but smile to myself because of how much lighter I felt knowing I’d be done as soon as I got paid. No more judgmental looks from her or heavy guilt from the stories I chased after. Garrick was right, I’d be happier without the responsibility this job forces me to take on.

  When I’d gotten back to the house, I followed the scent of popcorn to the den where I saw my favorite childhood movie paused on the TV screen. Garrick was stretched out on the couch with a grin on his face as he said, “Figured we’d celebrate your big day with your favorite movie.”

  The look of confusion on my face must have been enough to make him add, “I overheard you tell my brother that it was the best Disney movie ever made because she fought for everyone else selflessly.”

  I told Chase that after he tried insisting that Elsa was the superior childhood princess, but I didn’t know Garrick was even listening to our banter. It was over breakfast, and he was on the phone with someone on his team across the room cancelling more interviews like he did Hot in Hollywood. That hadn’t gone over well with whoever was on the other end.

  Before Garrick had hit PLAY, he reached out and played with a strand of my hair before he’d added, “It’s funny. He usually prefers brunettes. I’m usually the one with a thing for blondes.”

  It was nice to spend time watching nostalgic classics, comfortably quiet with no expectations attached. We asked each other random questions, like what the best kind of movie snack is—I said popcorn, he said sour gummy worms. Or if I preferred movies over books—which I do, though he admitted he likes books better because his mother got him into reading at a young age. When I told him that I didn’t have a big sweet tooth, he’d asked for a divorce, and when he admitted he’d never read or watched Harry Potter, I suggested couples therapy.

  Chase had seen us, shook his head, and walked upstairs to his room, not coming back down until I’d decided to go to bed.

  I’m not naïve enough to believe I can live my life the same way I did before—that ended the second Garrick and I stepped out of that courthouse. But the little moments shared between us in private, binge-watching old childhood movies, bickering about which ones are underrated or overrated, and teasing each other about the icebreaking reasons we’d end this marriage before it even began, is the type of distraction I need to stay sane.

  To believe it’ll be okay.

  But the lack of sleep after getting the article okay-d by Sarina is bound to be only the first of many sleepless nights. I texted Moffie saying it was a matter of time before my name was everywhere, and then left a vague voice message on my parents’ answering machine telling them they may hear things and that I’d explain when I could.

  They called, I said everything was fine, then chickened out saying I had to go. My phone has been off since.

  With a thin blanket wrapped around me, I walk over to the balcony doors to see a few joggers out like they are every morning, and vehicles come and go from neighboring houses. It’s strange to be surrounded by obvious money, and it’s become a game to guess how much each house and expensive car is worth and who lives where. I’m certain I saw Mia Casanova leave one of the houses yesterday with a small toddler beside her.

  I remember being assigned to the reality star shortly after the Zayne article hit. Sarina wanted the Free Press to break news on the cheating scandal surrounding her and her now husband Dylan first, but I didn’t want to touch it. I’d still been sick to my stomach after spending the money I’d gotten to hurt the Violet Wonders drummer. He’d been kind to me, and I didn’t give him the same curtesy. Nobody besides Garrick and Moffie know that, and I can’t imagine what my parents will say if they ever found out. It’s one thing to admit I got married on a whim to a famous singer, and another to admit why.

  Absentmindedly, my thumb grazes my naked ring finger where the diamond Garrick gave me days ago should be. I look down, flatten my hands to examine my short, thin fingers, and stifle a sigh.

  The ring is beautiful, beyond what I could have imagined, but the thought of sliding it onto my finger makes this too real. And I know, deep down, I don’t deserve to wear such extravagant jewelry. It’s fit for someone better matched for a guy like Garrick, and that isn’t me.

  The thought was sweet. I’m sure in a matter of hours when the world sees the latest Hollywood gossip, that ring will be more of a required accessory to cement the news rather than a kind sentiment to mark our situation. It’s necessary for the arrangement. That’s all.

  He hasn’t brought up his text from the day before, so I haven’t either. And neither of us has said a thing about the kiss, even though I’ve thought about it constantly. I think of it most at night, when I crawl under the blankets and remember his mouth on mine, his
scent engulfing me, then his suggestive promise over text. But not even the self-induced orgasm has eased any of the tension building from what’s to come.

  Balling up my hand, I walk away from the window and change for the day. By the time I leave my room, it’s nearly nine in the morning and I know the latest edition of the L.A. Free Press is live. If my phone were on, I’d get a news alert, probably a text or two from Moffie, and maybe even something from my parents congratulating me on another article written. They don’t always approve of the content, and they certainly won’t approve of this one, but seeing my name online still makes them excited for me. Especially Dad, who’s been my biggest supporter since I told him I was leaving for California.

  “If anyone can make it out there, it’s you, kiddo,” he’d said during the dinner I announced my big news. He’d hugged me, then Mom did, and as much as she tried to smile, her glassy brown eyes told me she was having trouble supporting me knowing I’d be so far from her.

  We wouldn’t be able to get our nails done together and then gorge out on something unhealthy or spend too much money at movie theaters for films that didn’t live up to the hype. I know she’s been worried about my health since the day I told them I was moving away, but regardless of her concerns, it never stopped her from wanting what was best for me.

  If I have to live my life with a chronic condition, I might as well live it to the fullest doing what I want. That means moving, struggling, and figuring out how to make it work. Pain and all. I may not be proud of what I’ve done to get by, but I am proud of never giving up despite the obstacles against me.

  I smile at the thought as I walk downstairs, knowing I still have a little time before my normalcy fades into the oblivion of national news. This is bigger than California because Garrick has been a name in the industry for years. Stories of women always surround him, including polls and predictions of who has the kind of power to make him settle. A listers, B listers, up-and-coming stars are always on the list. Singers, actresses, models. Never someone like me, and I know the second my name is posted people are going to drag it through the mud.

  You’re stronger than you think, Garrick had told me.

  I guess we’ll see soon enough.

  My stomach grumbles when I smell the bacon before hearing it sizzle the closer I get to the kitchen, and I’m about to greet the man in front of the frying pan when I stop dead in my tracks at the older, female version of Garrick standing there instead.

  Chase is at the counter, a bowl of cereal in front of him looking amused as he sees me halt at the doorway.

  Turning with one hand on her hip, the slender woman with blonde hair at the stove says, “So you must be my daughter-in-law.”

  I swallow air, wide-eyed as I hear the faintest snort from Chase. His mother walks up behind him, smacks him upside the back of the head, and gestures toward his cereal. “Eat your damn Captain Crunch and stay out of this, Chase Leroy Matthews.” Even from here, I can see the faintest pink settle on his cheeks.

  The woman who’s clearly been here for a while based on the pancakes, eggs, and other assortment of food on the counter is looking at me again, her pretty face unreadable as she eyes me up and down. I’m in a pair of flare jeans that have damaged, stained hems from the amount of wear they get, and a faded long sleeve shirt that used to look more red than the pink it is now.

  “Um…” My eyes dance over her facial features, ones that I can instantly see she passed down to Garrick, before looking to Chase. But his eyes are focused solely on the cereal that he’s shoveling into his mouth, which means he’ll be no help to me here. So, I force out, “Hello, Mrs. Matthews.”

  Another muffled noise from the youngest person in the room has his mother rolling her eyes at him before turning to me. “You can call me Elaine, Rylee. We’re family now, after all.” The reluctant comment has her eyes raking over me again, her lips twisting in contemplation. “I must say, you’re not what I was expecting when Garrick told me the news. Quite suddenly, I might add.”

  I blush, keeping my eyes on the floor knowing she probably would have pictured someone famous standing in front of her and sharing her family name and not some small-town girl from New York with barely a penny to her name.

  “I don’t mean that in a bad way,” she says as if she’s reading my thoughts. “Heaven knows my boy doesn’t need a bad influence in his life long-term to help him make any more poor decisions. He’s good enough at doing that on his own. Though, I won’t lie, I’m not very fond of the one he made here without even introducing us beforehand. I suppose your family knew and attended the ceremony?”

  My eyes shift around the room, willing Garrick to appear at any second to help me out. I don’t even hear him moving around the house, which tells me he’s not here.

  It’s Chase who confirms. “Your husband went for a run, sis.” The smile in his tone makes me want to glare at him for finding this funny, but I’m already making a bad impression on their mother and I know how important she is to Garrick.

  Sighing lightly, I tell her the truth. “My family doesn’t know. They live in New York and things happened…quickly.” It’s better to give a half-truth than a lie. I have no clue what Garrick did or didn’t say. Does he even know she’s here? Did he purposefully leave me to fend for myself?

  Elaine hums, studying me again before finally nodding. “That’s what my oldest said. It’s a shame. He mentioned you were close to your family. This is a big deal, so I’m sure they would have wanted to be there to support you like I would have wanted to for my son.”

  It’s hard to swallow past the shame lodged into my throat, so all I can do is nod and wipe my sweaty palms along the sides of my thigh. At least I brushed my hair and teeth before coming down. It’s about as nice as I’ve looked in days, probably since the wedding.

  After a long moment, she nods once and walks back over to the stove. “I suppose what’s done is done. I’d like to get to know you. Why don’t you tell me about yourself starting with how you like your bacon?”

  It takes me a few seconds before I shuffle to the island and sit at the stool next to Chase. He’s still trying to stuff his face so he doesn’t have to contribute, but there’s a small grin that I think has to do with my obvious discomfort over the grilling I’m about get from his mother.

  But I do as my new mother-in-law asks and give her a little view into my life—not before I kick Chase under the island and watch as he spills some of his cereal.

  My life is nothing exciting, and there are parts I certainly skip, including why her son and I tied the knot, until she seems a little more satisfied with the situation. Not happy, that’s for sure, but her gaze doesn’t look nearly as venomous as it did which I consider a small win.

  I can’t say she likes me, but she doesn’t show her dislike either as she nods along and asks follow-up questions in between. All the while Chase ping-pongs back and forth between us like he’s invested or waiting for me to screw up.

  Offering to help once she’s finished cooking, I grab plates and glasses from the cupboard while she gathers silverware, and freeze when she bluntly asks, “Do you love my son?”

  It’s a miracle I don’t drop the plates, but there’s no doubt the woman whose been eyeing me like a hawk since I came downstairs saw the way I locked up at the question.

  Before I can answer, a new voice saves the day as an overheated, sweaty body comes up behind me and presses itself into my back. “Of course she does,” Garrick announces, pecking me on the cheek and ruffling my hair that’s barely contained in a frizzy ponytail. “I wouldn’t have married her otherwise.”

  The lie settles deep into my chest, sinking its claws into my heart. When I turn, Garrick drapes a bare arm over my shoulder and tugs me into his side. His sleeveless shirt is drenched and he’s still breathing hard as he catches his breath, the soft sound of music crooning from the air pods in his ears before he fiddles with his phone to turn off the music.

  I know that anything I say will be di
ssected by his mother, so I choose my words carefully. “I’m very lucky to have Garrick in my life. He’s the most respectful guy I’ve ever met and has helped me when he knew I needed it most.”

  Garrick squeezes me. “Because I knew you’d never ask.”

  My eyes shift upward, a genuine smile softly lifting my lips. “I appreciate it.”

  He shoots me a wink before turning to his mother with a cheeky grin. “Brekkie smells amazing, Mum.”

  I don’t miss the way her gaze moves back and forth between us, trying to figure us out. Whatever she sees, she accepts, and I wouldn’t mind knowing what that is. She gestures toward the table, waving her hand around. “Wash up and help your wife finish setting the table. Chase, when you’re done pretending to eat so you can eavesdrop on your brother and sister-in-law, you can get ready for the next showing we leave for in an hour. I have a good feeling about this one since the last offer fell through.”

  It’s funny to watch the Matthews boys in action, not blinking once as they listen to their mother’s orders. Garrick pecks my cheek again, too close to the corner of my lips like he’d done the night of our wedding, leaving my face flushed despite the contact barely lasting a millisecond.

  He jogs upstairs while Chase grumbles under his breath and finishes his cereal before dragging himself up too.

  I’m setting a plate down when a soft hand reaches out and captures mine. “My son didn’t even bother getting you a ring? And here I thought I raised him better than that.”

  My eyes widen when I realize the ring is currently in its box in my suitcase, still packed because I’m afraid the second I put my clothes anywhere else, something bad will happen.

  I know this is my home for now—that Garrick wouldn’t kick me out unless I did something unforgivable. The lingering unknown still taunts me, and if it ever comes to pass, I want to be ready to leave. To pick up my bag and walk out the door without a moment’s hesitation.