Authors: Bebe Wilde
We went in and I told them some more details about the couch, how it was all custom built and while the owner wanted to maintain the original design, he had added a modern, more comfortable twist to it.
“The leather is imported from Italy,” I said.
“And was dyed this specific color, as well as going through a proprietary process to give it this subtle, soft touch.
It’s like it’s been here for years, but it hasn’t.”
“It’s too cool,” she said and sat down on the couch and smiled, patting the seat next to her. Her husband went over and sat down next to her, then leaned back and nodded. I tried to hide my smile but it was hard. Whenever someone sits down in a house, it’s almost a sure indicator that they love the property and will soon make an offer. I hoped this was true in this case as well.
“Want to take another look at the pool?” I asked.
He shook his head,
then
glanced at his wife, who gave him a nod. “We love this house. We were here a few years ago, in fact, and drove by, when it looked abandoned.”
I nodded.
“And, well, we were smitten then,” he said. “We’re both from the Los Angeles area, that’s where our families live.”
“But we didn’t make a move because it was so wrecked and we don’t know anything about renovation or restoration,” Alicia said. “Since then, we’ve kicked ourselves as we always imagined raising a family in a super cool space like this.”
“Really?”
I asked and smiled. That was the first time anyone had mentioned wanting to raise a family in this house. But I could see it. I could see the kids jumping on the couch and skidding across the concrete floors in their socks. Why not? They would, indeed, be the coolest parents around.
“So, it was like kismet when Hailey contacted us the other day,” he said.
Wow.
Kismet?
Strong word.
“I think,” he said and smiled at his wife. “We want to make an offer.”
I had to contain my giggle of glee and said, very professionally, “Let’s draw up the paper work and see what we can do.”
“What if we pay cash?” the wife asked. “Could we maybe get a better deal,
Teagan
?”
Oh, hell yeah! Cash! Cash was king, lady! I didn’t say that. I just said, “We can certainly try, Alicia. Let’s get to work.”
The negotiations went smoothly. Roman agreed to the terms, which were relatively easy as the only contingency was for a home inspection, which the house passed with flying colors. Within two weeks, which is a fast turnaround, the deal was signed, sealed and delivered.
And that, as they say, was that. Once I found the right buyer, it all worked out perfectly. It was almost like it used to be, when I first got to LA. It gave me hope. It really, really did.
But what now?
What happened next? The house was
sold,
my commission check was in the bank. What now? What was next? Was there a next? I didn’t know and that scared me. I’d put so much into that house, into that listing, it seemed as though it would never end. But now as it came to a close, reality was setting in. I would no longer have a reason to be in contact with Roman, though I had made sure he knew we’d never be together and that I was staying with Kier.
I have to admit I did feel a little emptiness that it was over. It had been a beast to sell, but I was extremely happy with the results. Nevertheless, I had to face facts: The job was finished. Roman would be onto his next project. And I’d be onto the next phase in my life: Suzy Homemaker. I didn’t know how that set with me but it was the best option I had.
The thought scared me but I knew I was making the right choice. It was time to do other things in life, to move forward. Nothing was holding me back now. Everything was in place for my new life. Everything was perfect. Everything, that was, except a lingering doubt that I might just be making the biggest mistake of my life.
Je
t’aime
One morning just a few weeks after Roman’s house closed, Kier and I were in the living room sitting on the couch and having our morning coffee. He was poring over the morning newspaper and I was on my phone, sending emails and texts. I wasn’t really paying attention to him and whenever he’d say something, I’d simply nod and go, “
Mmmm
…” But something he said piqued my curiosity.
“Oh, I have to go to Japan,” he said out of nowhere.
“What?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Japan.”
“Japan?” I said. “What do you mean, Japan?”
“I got an offer for one of those commercials again,” he said. “I want to go. Japan is fun.”
“Wow,” I said. “Japan?”
He nodded.
I thought about Japan, a place I’d never been. It sounded very cool. So, I said, “I’m onboard for that. When do we leave?”
He stared at me, his mouth falling open slightly, and said, “Oh, baby, you’d just be bored out of your skull. I won’t be there two, three days max. Then I’ll be back.”
I was surprised at his answer. He obviously didn’t want me to go, which was odd. But I let it go. I said, “I can handle two or three days. What’s the big deal?”
He shrugged. “Okay, honey.”
I stared at him. Was he…? Did he not want me to go with him to Japan?
And for what reason?
What was it? I shook my head and told myself I was just being paranoid. He probably remembered what a bad traveler I was. Though I loved to travel, I did complain about waiting in lines, the crowds, all that. I was a pain in the ass to travel with. He probably just wanted to go, get it done and get back home.
I smiled and kissed his cheek, then got up from the couch and grabbed my bag. “I have to get to the office. Want to meet for lunch?”
“Yeah, that would be good,” he said.
“How about Amada’s?”
I froze.
Amada’s?
He wanted to go to Amada’s? My body lit up with that word, with the thought of that restaurant and my mind raced with the memory it triggered.
I stared at him, remembering it all. Once, when we had been married, I had asked him to meet me for dinner at a new restaurant I’d heard a lot good reports about. It was called Amada’s. He had agreed, telling me he’d be there. I got there first and waited in the parking lot for a while, looking around for him, getting angrier and angrier by the minute. I decided to just go in by myself and have dinner. I was starving and I was sick of waiting on him.
Once I entered the restaurant, I spotted him at the bar flirting with a really cute young woman. He’d been there the whole time and not once picked up his phone to let me know he was waiting on me. And there he was flirting, something he loved to do and something he was quite good at.
I turned on my heel and left, refusing to even think about what might have happened between him and the young woman. But that day at the restaurant was when I first started having real doubts about my husband and his fidelity.
And now I was feeling it again, this insecurity, just because he mentioned going out of town without me. But then I realized it would always be like this, whether or not he was actually cheating on me. This was the way I would live the rest of my life with him: Worrying, fretting, distrusting and creating conflict over suspicions.
Oh, fuck. It wasn’t going to change now, was it? Nope. It was probably just going to be the same thing over and over with Kier. And I’d just throw away something really, super special with Roman in favor of this. Yes, it was familiar. It was safe, in a way. But it would never been
good
because there would always be that little doubt in my head that he would cheat on me and rip out my heart again.
I pushed all of this out of my head. That was years ago and I had to let it go. If I were to move forward and remarry him and hope to have kids with him, all of that stuff in our past had to be let go. I had to grow up and get on with it.
So, I smiled at him and said, “Sounds cool. Listen, I have to get to work.” I rummaged in my bag for my keys, ignoring him again,
then
heard him say something. I looked up. “What is it?”
“Your cigarettes,” he said and pointed to the coffee table. “I said you forgot your cigarettes. You don’t listen to anything.”
“Oh, I quit again,” I said and stared at the cigarettes. Something in me wanted to grab one and light up. But, no, I had to be strong.
Old habits die hard. Quitting smoking was hell for me. Would quitting cheating be hell for Kier?
Then, all of a sudden, I got Roman’s reasoning, his refusal to give in to me, to our love. Roman knew Kier and I still had an attachment and he hadn’t been willing to give into me until he knew I had broken it for good. He was smart like that; I had to give it to him. He knew if he got involved with me while Kier was so obviously still in the picture, I might jump ship on him at any time. And he’d been right. I had jumped ship. In fact, I’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire. I was blinded by my own insecurities, by own feelings of distrust. I was blinded and fooled by a man I had once loved with every cell in my body, a man who was, simply, not right for me. A man who was now promising to be faithful to me but would he be? Could he be?
Oh, fuck. This was my life! If I stayed with Kier that’s all I would think about, obsess about, wonder about! I’d waste my life worrying if and with whom he was fucking. It was too much to think about, too much to consume.
That’s when I realized I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t marry him again. Even if he was perfect and never even looked at another woman, I would always have
that baggage, that fear
he’d do it again. It would hang over my head and threaten to humiliate me at any moment. I was over fighting about it, thinking about it, dealing with it.
I would never be enough for him and I knew it. He needed the love and adoration of millions. I was, simply, only one person in a sea of admiring faces.
“
Teagan
?”
Kier said and got up from the couch and walked over to me.
“You there?
It’s like you blanked out on me for a second.”
I had. I shook myself and forced a smile. “I was just thinking about this thing… It’s nothing. Amada’s sounds good, Kier.”
He nodded. “It’s good. We should go. I can’t believe you’ve never eaten there before.”
I resisted the urge to share my thoughts with him and said, “I guess I just never got around to it. But it’s fine. I’ll meet you there about noon. Okay?”
“Cool with me,” he said and sat back down on the couch, picked up the morning paper and started to peruse it again.
“Oh, your cigarettes.”
I smiled and walked over, picked them up and tossed them in my bag. Then I leaned over him and stared into his eyes, knowing that this was it, that it was over. And while I was sad and while I knew I’d cry and grieve, I knew I was making the right decision. He was special but he wasn’t right for me and he never had been. It was tough to confess that to myself, but I had to if I was ever going to move forward.
I gave him a nice, soft kiss,
then
pulled back. “Love you,” I said.
“Love you, too,” he replied with a smile.
I pulled back and headed to the door, then paused and said, “Oh, you know what? I can’t make it on that trip to Japan. I just remembered something that came up.”
He nodded. “Cool,” he said. “We can go some other time.”
I smiled at him and said, “Sure can! Have a good day, baby.”
“You too,” he said.
I winked at him and left, going to my car, controlling my emotions until I was on the street and then when I was out of sight, I burst into tears, shaking my head at what a complete idiot I was. It would never be on my terms. It would always be on his terms. Then the realization hit me. Roman wasn’t the one trying to control me. He wanted to set me from my encumbrances, from my trust issues because of my bad, past relationships.
It was Kier who wanted to control me by whispering sweet nothings in my ear and keeping me hanging on, waiting, suspended in air, in time, to give me his heart once and for all. And he couldn’t do that. His heart belonged to millions of others, his fans, the ones who adored him. If I were to be with him, I would have to share him and I was sick of sharing my man.
Then I realized I was stuck. I had to move forward this time, once and for all. And I would. Having sold Roman’s house, I knew I could make it on my own. I knew I’d been through a hard time but if I kept at it, I would always be able to take care of myself in one way or another.
I was just happy I hadn’t leased my bungalow yet. I was moving back in as soon as I could. I also came up with another brilliant idea. I could sell my engagement ring back to the jeweler and take the money, along with the commission check I’d gotten from selling Roman’s house, and pay off all my debts, including my bungalow. If I did this, I would no longer find myself in that sort of pinch again and feeling that sort of desperation. If I did that, I’d always have a place to call home.
And, so, that’s what I did. And, as soon as Kier left for Japan, I moved all of my stuff back to my place in the Hills, taking it over by carloads. Once I had the house emptied of my belongings, I sat down and wrote Kier a note. It was quick and to the point and not filled with one ounce of animosity. I was over that. I was over playing the hurt wife. I wrote:
“Kier, let’s face facts. We are not meant to be together. Let’s stop playing these games and let’s move on. I wish you happiness and hope that you can find someone who can please you and accept the person you are. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find someone who likes that sort of thing and wants to share you with the world. But I am not that person. I will always love you but as far as living the life I have lived for years, I am done with that.
All the best,
Teagan
.”
I left the note on the kitchen counter, locked the door on my way out and ran to see if Roman might, just might, take me back.
* * * * *
I waited outside Roman’s house on the front step for an hour or so. He finally showed up in his sleek SUV, parked it in front of the garage and came around the back of it. When he saw me, he stopped dead in his tracks.