His mother is a different matter though. Although Vivien sleeps in my arms every night and we’re together, in all the ways we can be together, she’s emotionally distanced herself from me. From everyone.
The Oprah interview was a bit of a mixed bag. We gave a watered-down version of our story, not going into all the details but giving enough to try to explain the situation in a way that protects Viv. It fostered enormous online debate with camps split evenly down the middle. There are those who are sympathetic to the situation, who understand Viv’s position, and wish us well. Most of my fans have been supportive, but there is an element who are jealous and lash out at Viv.
And don’t get me started on Reeve’s fanbase. They have all turned on Vivien, and the vitriol online is disgusting. I made Ash give me access to my accounts again so I could monitor things. But I had to shut them down before they banned me, because I was not holding back in my replies to the assholes calling my woman a slut, a cheat, and a murderer.
Someone started a petition to have Viv arrested for murdering Reeve, and it had over one hundred thousand signatures. Some of these people are legit lunatics who should be locked up in the nuthouse. How the fuck can anyone accuse a woman of deliberately killing her husband and baby in such a horrific way? They seem to forget she nearly died too.
Fucking assholes. I swear I want to punch the lot of them.
I have my US attorney working overtime, firing off threatening letters to publications and online sites and issuing legal proceedings. My Irish solicitor has begun the process with Aoife, and he’s issued more reminders to the other NDA signatories.
The publicists are trying to put a positive spin on our official communications, and Lauren has her IT contact removing shit from the internet on a continuous basis. We have stepped up security and spoken to Easton’s school and his friends’ parents. There really isn’t anything else we can do.
Understandably, it’s gotten to Viv, and she’s hibernating again. Refusing to leave the house. Going about her day on autopilot, and I can’t get through to her. We’re all worried, and I’m seriously contemplating quitting the band and pulling out of the tour. I can’t leave her like this, and I haven’t asked her to come with us either because I know she’ll only say no.
Time is running out, and that calls for drastic measures.
On Christmas Eve morning, I decide it’s time Dickhead Dillon came out to play. “Get dressed,” I tell her when she emerges from our en suite bathroom surrounded by a steamy cloud. I’m fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting to battle her on this. “We’re meeting Ash and Jamie and Audrey and Alex, downtown for lunch. Then we’re taking Easton ice-skating at the outdoor rink at Santa Monica.”
“No, Dillon.” She shakes her head, beads of water dancing across her shoulders. “It will be crazy downtown, and I’m sure to get harassed.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer, sweetheart.” I pull her between my legs, ignoring the almost insurmountable urge to rip her towel off and fuck her until she agrees. “Today is no different than any other day in that regard.” I pull her onto my lap and kiss her. “I know you’re scared. I know some of the shit that’s being said about you is awful. I hate how fucking sexist it is and how they’re blaming you for everything. But it’s not your fault. You didn’t cause the accident. You didn’t cheat on Reeve. And you couldn’t help falling in love with me because I’m a fucking irresistible sexy bastard.”
I flash her one of my trademark grins, encouraged when I see the hint of a smile on her beautiful mouth. “Remember what Meryl has told you. You can’t control the media or jerks who post shit online. You can only control how you deal with it.” I brush my fingers across her cheek. “I’m not being flippant when I say this. I know it’s difficult to just shut it off, but they only have power over you if you let them. The people that matter know the truth. Fuck the rest of them.”
I know this is difficult for her. She’s been dealing with this kind of scrutiny since she was seventeen. I hate the attention that comes from being in a successful band, but what we endure pales in comparison to what Viv has to handle.
“You’re right,” she says, surprising the shit out of me. “I don’t want this to be like the situation with Reeve. I don’t want to end up broken or risk losing what we share.” She snakes her hands around my neck. “But it is hard to forget it exists. People have been sending me death threats, Dillon. People actually wish I was dead.” Her lower lip wobbles. “It’s hard knowing that many people hate me.”
“But they don’t, sweetheart. They don’t know you to hate you. They are projecting all their feelings of low self-worth on to you because it makes them feel better about themselves. This isn’t about you. Everyone that knows you loves you. Easton loves you, and I fucking love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love another human being. Can’t my love be enough?”
She inhales deeply. “You are so romantic, Dillon. You say the sweetest things.”
“I write love songs for a living, Hollywood, and I’m damn fucking good at it. I live and breathe romance.” I waggle my brows, grinning.
She rolls her eyes, and I count that as a victory. “I forgot about your ego,” she says, standing. “God knows how when it’s ever present.”
I grab the hem of her towel, whipping it away. “Careful what you say when you’re naked, sweetheart.” I glance at the clock by the bed. “We have just enough time for me to punish you for daring to mock me.” I wink at her, unbuttoning the top button of my jeans as she throws herself at me, wrapping her gorgeous legs around my waist.
Her eyes dilate, and she licks her lips. “Lock the door, and let the punishment begin.”