26
My hand shakes as I press the bell, rocking back on my heels at Reeve’s front door. It’s strange to be waiting to be admitted when I’m used to having a key and letting myself in at all hours of the day and night.
The housekeeper opens the door, her eyes widening when she spots me.
“Hi, Mrs. Thompson. Is Reeve home?” I know he’s here, because the premiere is tomorrow night and he texted me last night to tell me he was home. He begged me to attend it with him, but I told him a firm no. How the fuck could he expect me to walk the red carpet with that bitch? I’d be up on a murder charge before the end of the night. It’s a moot point anyway. We’re broken up, and I won’t be walking any more red carpets with Reeve. The thought saddens me, but there’s no going back now.
He also asked if we could talk, so he’ll probably be ecstatic to discover I’m here.
“Hello, Vivien.” Her smile is laced with pity, and I loathe it. I know she means well, but I hate that everyone knows he cheated on me. I force out a tight smile, and she steps aside to grant me entry. “Mr. Lancaster is here. He’s eating breakfast in the sunroom if you’d like to join him.”
“Thank you.” Stepping inside, I set my key down on the hallway table. Won’t be needing that anymore. Acid churns in my gut, and my heart jackhammers behind my rib cage as I walk through familiar hallways and rooms. Stopping outside the door to the sunroom, I wipe my clammy palms down the front of my skinny jeans, willing my thumping heart to slow down. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to compose myself. Briefly, I consider fleeing, because now I’m here I don’t know if I can do this. I could write him a letter in the car on the way to the airport and avoid seeing him.
A subtle whooshing of air as the door opens confirms it’s too late to make an escape. Drawing a brave breath, I open my eyes, coming face to face with the man who broke my heart into itty-bitty pieces.
We stare at one another, and it’s painful beyond belief. Tension bleeds into the air, mixing with the usual spark of electricity. Where once our connection comforted me, now all it does is exacerbate the agony. I dig my nails into the sides of my jeans to ignore the almost insurmountable urge to wrap my arms around him. Physically, my body still needs to get with the program. Reeve is breathtakingly handsome, even with punishing shadows under his eyes, a thick five-o’clock shadow, and the anguished expression etched on his face. His gorgeous blue gaze drills into mine, and his eyes turn glassy with emotion.
“Viv,” he whispers. “You came.” A hint of a cautious smile tugs up the corners of his mouth as he reaches for me.
Taking a step back, I avert my eyes and shake my head, gulping over the lump clogging my throat. Every part of me is in agony. Pain ravages me from the inside, and I wrap my arms around my torso, silently coaxing myself to just say my piece and get out of here.
“I miss you,” he adds, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the door frame. His accompanying sigh is heavy with emotion.
Reinforcing the walls around my heart, I lift my chin and pull my shoulders back, letting my arms drop to my side. I’m not going to fall apart in front of him again. “I miss you too, but it changes nothing.”
His smile disappears. “Why are you here then?”
“I came to tell you I’m leaving.”
He frowns, straightening up a little. “Leaving? Leaving for where?”
I had considered being vague, but I know Reeve. His stubbornness is legendary. If I don’t tell him, he’ll make it his mission to find out, and I can’t have him showing up in Ireland unannounced.
“I’m moving to Dublin, Ireland. My plane leaves at noon.”
Shock splays across his face, and he just stares at me for several tense seconds. Dragging his hands repeatedly through his hair, he asks. “How? Why? For how long?”
“UCLA has a transfer program with Trinity College Dublin. It’s usually for junior year students, but Dad knows the president, and he made it happen for me. I’m going to complete my sophomore spring semester there.” Normally, I hate relying on my parent’s contacts. I like to be as independent as possible and to achieve things on my own merits. But this is a unique situation, and there is no way I would be leaving if Dad hadn’t pulled strings and Doug Simmonds hadn’t personally arranged it with Trinity.
Reeve’s face drops, and he scrubs a hand over his stubbly jawline. “You’re going away for five months?”
He says that like it’ll be any different than last year when I barely saw him at all. It won’t make any difference to Reeve whether I’m in L.A. or Ireland or Timbuktu. “At least. If I like it, I’ll probably stay during summer break too,” I explain. Audrey said she’ll come visit me this summer if I’m still there. “As for why, I think that’s obvious. I need to heal, and I can’t do that in L.A. I need to go someplace the media won’t find me. I need to leave all the noise behind.”
“Leave me behind, you mean,” he says in a pained voice.
I wet my dry lips, refusing to hide the truth even if I know my words will hurt him. “Yes. I can’t put you and our relationship behind me when your face is everywhere and reminders of you are everywhere.”
He grabs my hand, and the familiar tingling across my skin hurts so damn much. “Viv. I love you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want her. I’ve never wanted her. I only want you.”
I yank my hand back, tucking both hands under my arms so he can’t pull that maneuver again. “I don’t want to leave on bad terms, Reeve. I will never forget what you did, but maybe one day I can find a way to forgive you. You’re a free agent now. You can be with her with a clear conscience.” It kills me to say that, and the thought of him being with her permanently might very well do me in, but I’ll be thousands of miles away, blissfully ignorant, and that’s the way I prefer it. Setting him free will ultimately help to set me free too, so that’s why I’m doing this.
“Viv, please, justhearme. I don’t want her,” he blurts. “She means nothing to me and you’re everything.” He grabs fistfuls of his hair. “You’re fucking everything, Viv.” Tears stream down his face, and it’s so hard not to comfort him, but I can’t get drawn back in.
“You made a lot of mistakes that hurt me, but I don't want to hold on to the hurt and the pain. I don't want our relationship to be defined by our final days. I hope someday to be able to look back and remember the good times, because there were a lot of those.” I am nowhere near ready to face that, but in the future, I hope the pain will ease and I can cherish the happy times and remember Reeve the way I want to remember him.
“This isn't the end, Viv. Please, baby. I can’t lose you.”
I exhale heavily, rubbing my throbbing temples. “Reeve, stop. Please stop. I can’t do this again. You’re making this harder.” I drag in deep breaths as I fight to maintain the tenuous hold on my emotions. “I didn’t want to leave without telling you in person, and now I’ve told you.” I turn to go, and he pulls me into his arms.