Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie Trilogy) (8 page)

“You tell me. You’re the one who is supposed to be keeping tabs on her,” I
drawled, gathering my laptop.

Emmet joined me at my desk, glancing in my bag. I let him reach for the ultrasound photo
that I’d tucked in the edge of the folder.

“It’s true, then?
You got her pregnant? How do you know the baby is yours?”

I held my palm out, and he returned the photo.

“I know it’s mine.”

“Hmm.” He cocked his hip to the side, pouting his lips indignantly. “You want this.”

“Yes, I want this. I want her. I want a family. My family. Vivian and my baby.”

His expression softened, and he covered his mouth with his fingertips. “Oh, honey. Come here.”

“Em, I’m good. I don’t need to hug it out. I need to get on a fucking plane.” I patted his back, snatching a tissue from the box on my desk and handing it over to him. “Handle it while I’m gone, okay? All of… it. Let them draw picket fences around us and tell them we’re… we’re looking at houses in Pasadena. Tell them we’re happy. I need as much help for this movie as I can get.”

He nodded toward my mid-section curtly. “Ash Salter? Good thing you’re as cute as a button. He is one fine
piece of… man.”

Rolling my eyes, I exhaled exaggeratingly.
“Great. Thanks.”

Finally alone, I had about an hour before I had to get to the airport for my flight
into Pittsburgh. I’d had every intention of going to her when I’d told her to go home yesterday. I needed to see where she was from, and I wanted to meet her parents.

This was happening.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced down at the text.

V
: I was awake. When you texted last night. I didn’t answer because I would have started crying again. I miss you, Keaton.

I smiled,
reaching for my phone.

Me:
I miss you, V. And I miss you, baby. I’ll see you both soon.

I was already half-
way out of my office when her reply slid through.

V: Not soon enough.

I shifted my bag, grinning as I texted my way to the elevator.

Me:
I hope you mean that.

V: You know that I do.

I stopped at my apartment, packed my bag, and got to LAX in plenty of time. My flight wasn’t boarding yet, and something caught my eye in the gift shop near my gate.

I walked to the stack of those little, one-piece baby outfits, grinning at the words on the front of the shirt. Embellished in gold to match the star behind the letters read “
Best Supporting Star.
”

Chuckling, I paid for the outfit, tucking it into my carry-on.

V

After spending the morning talking on the phone to Marcus, my aggressive new agent, I was finally starting to believe that all of it was real.

I was starring in a movie.

It was true what they say; it’s all about who you know. I never would have gotten the opportunity had it not been for Keaton.

I’d been home for two days
and I already missed him.

“Did I tell you they’re going to fly me here whenever I want? From the set?”

Matthew moved across our bedroom to the bathroom. “Yes. But I don’t want you constantly traveling, Vivian,” he called through the open door.

“I’ll be okay,” I assured him, fumbling with the
bottle of cocoa butter lotion. I slid my hand under my t-shirt, smoothing the cream over my stomach. The stretch marks on my hips were bad enough, and I wanted to try and avoid them on my stomach as well.

He turned in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame and crossing his arms over his chest.

My hand stilled over my bare stomach, and I lifted my eyes to his. “What?”

He nodded toward my midsection. “
It’s hard watching you do that, knowing that you won’t let me touch you.”

I immediately pulled my hand away, sitting back on the bed. “I’m sorry.
”

He stared for a long moment, finally
shifting his gaze to the carpet. “You know, you barely said two words to me on the plane. You spent the whole day yesterday reading the script, and two hours on the phone with your agent this morning. Vivian…” he stepped closer, and I narrowed my eyes, looking up at him.

“I’m sorry, I just have so much to do, and-”

“I want you to answer me honestly.”

Caught off guard, I snapped my mouth shut, lowering the bottle of lotion to the comforter. “I am honest, Matthew,” I replied, indignant.

He lowered to the bed next to me, careful to keep a distance between us. “If I walked out right now, would it devastate you? Would it break your heart?”

I didn’t expect his words. I froze,
sliding my feet over the carpet and turning to him. “Walked out? You mean, left? Me?”

“Yes. Left us. Gave up on this, on everything we had. On everything we ever had.”

My stomach churned. “Is that what you want?”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

I reached for my ponytail, but he caught my hand, pulling it to his strong chest. Even through his shirt, I could feel how tense he was, waiting for me to answer him.

Honestly
.

I owed it to him. I thought about the past year, trying to remember the way that I felt before I’d met Keaton.

Anger.
Fear
.

The need to move on.

“I didn’t expect us to be together again. I was in the process of getting over you when I was living with Gram.”

Oh, G
od, my words sounded almost defensive. I turned to him, and his expression hardened.

“Vivian,” he replied quietly, lifting my hand to his lips. He pressed a long kiss against the back of my hand, and I squeezed my eyes closed, fighting through the terrible, disconnected feelings coursing through my veins. “
I’m going to say this once. And it’s going to hurt. Okay?”

I pulled my hand away, my heart thudding. “What?”

“What you did to me… walking out on me like that, leaving me here to pick up the pieces alone? I’m not ready to forgive you for that. I thought maybe I was… I thought I could, before you met him, when I still thought that you loved me.”

“
Matthew…
”

“Now… m
aybe I never will be. I love you, but what you did to me will always be there… and now
he
will always be there.”

My breath lodged in my throat. I attempted to say his name, but the lump of tears strangled my ability to speak.

His dark eyes met mine. “And now, with him? It would have been one thing for you to just move on and let me go, let me break. But for you to keep me waiting like this… while you’re thinking of
him
. I
know
you’re thinking of him-”

“Matthew-”

“I don’t deserve it.”

The tears erupted then. “
Matthew
-”

“Stop saying my name. Stop
crying
,” he snapped, and I covered my mouth with shaking hands, the onslaught of memories and emotions breaking me down, crumbling me from the inside out.

As many times as we’d argued, for as much as we’d been through, never had a moment been so heavy with finality.

“I didn’t mean… to fall in love with him,” I finally cried, my words a jumble of tearful breaths.

He
looked as though I’d shot him straight through the heart.

The long, empty silence between us, him
emotionless, me sobbing, was the most confusing moment of my life.

We were hanging on by that moment.

I knew his next words were about to change everything between us; every comfort, every emotion.

His temper, usually so controlled, flared, and I cowered beneath his accusing glare. “Do you expect me to stay with you now?”

I opened my mouth, balking, trying to find the right words before realizing that there were no words. “No… no I don’t,” I realized, trying bravely to meet his eyes. “I can’t expect that of you-”

“
Vivian,” he cut me off, his voice controlled and laden with ice. “You can sleep here tonight. Tomorrow, I want you gone.”

His words almost didn’t make sense to me.

This was Matthew, predictable, loyal,
forgiving
Matthew.

Matthew
who I’d walked out on, had walked all over, and had hurt so much that I was beginning to hate myself.

The pa
in in my chest caved in, consumed me, and I struggled for air. “
Gone?
” I whispered, pathetically, so
fucking
pathetically. I fought with the battling urges to protect myself and yet to give in to the heartbreaking finality of what was happening between us.

He stood, running his hand through his hair. “
You can stay with your parents. Or go back to him. It’s not up to me.”

“You hate me,” I cried, shaking my head, nausea brewing at the worst possible moment.

“No.” He stopped and turned at the doorway, his eyes focused on the ground. “I’m ending this
before
I hate you.”

He turned and left without another word.

. . .

I cried.

I cried for the past, for our son
who we’d lost, and for all the ways that I’d hurt him.

I cried because he was right.

I’d kept him waiting, knowing all along, deep in my heart, that I’d already given in to Keaton.

Around two I got up to vomit, and I heard him come to the door.

“Are you okay?” he asked, so genuinely concerned, and my temper ignited.

“No, I’m not okay, just leave me alone,” I
hissed, wiping at my mouth.

He
turned and went back downstairs without another word.

It was nearly four by the time I flipped my tear-dampened pillow again, reaching for my phone.

Anxiety kicked in, and I crawled out of the bed, checking my text messages.

Nothing.

I didn’t want Keaton to know that Matthew was done with me…
that we were over.
I didn’t want Keaton to ever think that I’d chosen him by default, and I couldn’t fight the overwhelming urge to protect my own ego.

My first meeting with my new acting coach was at
four the next day, which was good, since there was no way I’d be able to sleep knowing Matthew was lying downstairs on the couch hating me.

My suitcase was still mostly packed from the trip to LA; I began pulling my remaining clothes from their hangers, neatly folding them into piles on the bed.

Color coded, arranged by season.

I have no car.
I’d been driving Gram’s Cadillac in Pennsylvania, and then Keaton drove us everywhere in the Ferrari. I considered calling for a taxi, but I had no idea where I was going.

“What are you doing?”

Matthew’s voice startled me. I glanced up at him once, continuing to pull my clothes from the drawers.

“I can’t stay here.”

“I said tomorrow-”

“Fuck you
, it’s tomorrow!” I screamed, fighting back the reemergence of mortifying tears. “How in the hell do you expect me to sleep here after what you said? You want me gone, I’m gone,” I cried, struggling to close my suitcase.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses before sighing. “Please calm down. This isn’t good for the baby-”

“Don’t talk about the baby!” I shrieked, trying to wrangle my stampeding hormones. “You hate that it’s Keaton’s! Don’t try to act like you care one fucking bit about what happens to this baby!”

“Vivian,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I care. I care about you, and I care about that innocent baby. What is happening between us has
nothing
to do with how I feel about the baby. Do I hate that you slept with him? Yes, of course I hate that, I hate it so
fucking
much. Do I hate that you
love
him?” he fired. “Yes I hate it! Do I think for one minute that, baby or no baby, you’re
ever
going to feel the same way about me again? No.”

“How can I!?
” I raged. “You
lied
to me. You knew how I felt.
You knew I’d want Rory to live.
You let him die! I shouldn’t be here!
It should have been me!
”

“Oh my G
od Vivian, this again?” He wrenched my suitcase from the bed, slamming it to the floor. His biceps bulged beneath his gray t-shirt, and I could see the twitch in his jaw as he struggled for control. “Your parents had the final say. How many more times do we have to go through this?”