Chapter Twenty-Five - Victoria
West is silent for a few minutes and I try to pretend I’m more interested in Seinfeld than I am him until I can’t stand it anymore.
“I don’t know who set you up, Weston. And it hurts me that you think I’d keep that from you if I did.”
He’s staring out the window when I look over at him. It’s like a hurricane out there. But maybe not really a hurricane. A bad storm for sure. But my fear of blowing away or being swallowed up by the sea has abated. This house is in the middle of the island surrounded by all kinds of trees and brush, and high up on a hill. I can see the ocean, but it’s not twenty feet outside the window, like the other island. And we have power, satellite TV, and food downstairs. His friend put us here, for whatever reason. So this is… controlled. I like controlled.
Which is funny, I suddenly realize. Because West has been trying to control my life since we met and I rail against it with all my being.
Why?
Why do I feel the need to refuse him?
“I’m sorry,” West says, leaning his elbow on the arm of the couch to prop up his chin.
I let out a sigh. “I accept your apology.”
He looks over at me, opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, then shakes his head and looks out the window again.
“What?” I ask. “What were you going to say?”
“Never mind. I will respect your privacy. Obviously you don’t want to discuss your past with me, and I should’ve realized that a long time ago and dropped it. So I’m gonna drop it now. Fuck it. I probably don’t know anything about you, do I?”
“I feel the same way.” I try not to sound defensive, but I’m not good at hiding my feelings. “You never told me you were poor. Or anything about finding treasure. That’s kind of exciting, don’t you think? That’s something a man would tell his girlfriend, right? Yet you never told me.”
“I let you believe what you wanted to believe.”
“What did I want to believe?”
“That I was some born-and-bred rich asshole.” He shrugs. “Whatever. I don’t care if you think of me that way. It’s better than people thinking of me as some poor kid who had to work since he was seven to climb out of the hole his parents put him in.”
I think hard about that answer. “I thought you were on good terms with your parents?”
“I am,” he says quickly. “Why?”
“Well, you sounded a little… bitter just then.”
“I’m not bitter. I’m over it.”
OK. I need to drop that. The past needs to stay in the past. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I want my past to stay hidden, so how can I blame him if he wants his to stay hidden too?
“Do you want to have dinner with me?” West blurts out.
“Dinner? Like, when we got this island and get back to our real lives?”
“No,” he says softly. “Like, tonight.”
“I don’t think I have a choice.” I laugh.
“You have a choice, Victoria Arias. It’s always been your choice. But that’s not what I mean. I mean, would you like to have a nice dinner with me tonight?”
I laugh. “Like a date? To where? The rainy, windy beach?”
“How about downstairs? And it’s not really a date. Just a nice dinner. I’ll go get us something out of the ocean. I know where to find lobsters in a turbulent sea.”
I just stare at him. “You’re serious?”
“I’m serious. I feel like maybe our relationship can start over now. Like we’ve come to some kind of conclusion and I’m ready to just… be friends. That’s what you’ve always wanted from me each time we broke up, right? Just to be friends.”
Just friends. I roll the words around in my mind. I did want us to remain friends, but West was always the one to pick up and leave. A new contract, or a new apartment, or a new state… whatever. Girlfriends, probably. I’m surprised he doesn’t have one now. How does a man who looks like that not have dozens of girls hanging off him at every moment?
“Well?” he asks.
“I don’t want you going out into the ocean again, so no to the seafood. But if you can whip up something better than cheese and crackers, I’m in for that. I’m starving.”
“OK,” he says, standing up. I let my eyes linger on the muscles in his bare legs for a moment, before tracking up his perfectly toned body and finally meeting his gaze. He’s got a little devious smirk on his face. “I’ll get right on it.”
And then he grabs his wrinkled clothes from the dry bag, which is still on the floor where I left it when I changed, and disappears downstairs.
It takes me several minutes to realize what he just did.
Took control. God, why does he have to be like that? And why does it make me so defensive?
Don’t go there, Tori. Just don’t go there. Leave it alone. Let him make you a friendly dinner. Tomorrow the storm will be totally gone and we’ll find a way out of here—either with the radio or his friend will show up. And we’ll go back to our separate lives.
I need to come to terms with the fact that my business is bankrupt. I need to tell my father that I’ve let him down. And I need to call that guy who sent me on this job and let him know I failed.
I will not be able to deliver what he asked for.
“Hey,” West says, shaking my shoulder. I sit up a little and look around, confused. “I guess you were tired,” he says.
I sit all the way up and take him in. He’s wearing his clothes again, which are dirty. The shirt is ripped from the lobsters and it’s stained a nice off-white color now from the sea water. Still, he’s looking quite put back together compared to the wild boy persona he’s been sporting the past couple days. “What’s happening?” I ask.
“Not much. The storm is dying down. Just some hard rain now, but not much wind. And dinner’s ready.”
Dinner. I forgot about that.
“Are you hungry?” West asks, when I stay silent.
“Yes,” I say, getting up and wriggling my too-short skirt down my legs. I should put my bra and underwear back on. They are probably dry. And it would go a long way towards not having sex with West tonight like I did last night.
But… if we have to go back to our normal lives tomorrow, what’s one more night down memory lane?
I leave the bra and underwear hanging on the barstool where West left them and start down the stairs.
“I don’t smell anything.”
“Well.” He laughs behind me. “I had to make do with what we had.”
When I get to the door of the safe I stop and smile. He has the small dinette table set with paper plates and plastic dinnerware. Paper towels are being used as napkins and there are two emergency candles lit between the place settings. There’s even a red flower sitting in a mug acting as a vase.
“You really know how to impress a woman,” I say, walking over to the table. “Where did you get that flower?”
West pulls a chair out and motions for me to sit. He always did have manners. I smile and sit, letting him help me scoot the chair in. “There’s a tree, just outside the front door.”
I sigh. He’s kind of charming, right? In his own way. “What are we having?” I ask.
West has an old frying pan lid covering a plate on the table. He lifts the lid and says, “Tonight, Miss Arias, in celebration of our temporary reunion and the good luck of being stuck on a deserted island with you, I present… emergency food ration pack number two-three-seven. Otherwise known as macaroni and cheese.”
“Oh, dear,” I say. But I’m smiling. It’s sweet. “Did you try it yet?”
“Uh, no. I might skip dinner and just enjoy the pleasure of your company.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, Mister Corporate. You’re eating this shit.”
He opens his mouth like he has a quick comeback, but then he shakes his head and looks down as he takes his seat.
“Did you just blush? You were gonna say something dirty, weren’t you?”
“No,” he says, placing his paper towel napkin in his lap. “But I love that you were thinking I’d say something dirty.”
“You’re lying,” I muse, taking the little cup of mac and cheese from the plate. I peel back the plastic that covers the top and inhale. “It doesn’t smell too bad.” I pick up my plastic fork and take a bite, immediately spitting it out. “Oh, my God!”
“It’s terrible, right?”
“The worst!” I laugh. “Someone would really have to be starving to eat this.”
“We can eat cheese and crackers if you want. Or have a glass of milk—”
“No, no, no. I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of this mac and cheese, Weston Conrad. You made it, and you set the table and lit candles. So I’m eating it. It’s the least I can do.”
“Do I have to eat it?”
We both start laughing.
“Come on, Weston. Where’s that boyish spirit you had hunting treasure as a kid?”
“You’re gonna make me eat this, aren’t you?”
“It’s not that bad, I swear. Take a bite.”
He grimaces as he forks some mac and cheese into his mouth, but then smiles as he chews. “Hey, it’s pretty good. I’m not a bad cook after all. But you, Miss Arias, you can cook the hell out of some pasta.”
“I do make a pretty nice homemade mac and cheese if I do say so myself.”
“God, yeah. I think I fell in love with you when you made that prime rib at Christmas that first year.”
“Remember that apartment? It was nice, you know? I sorta loved that you were out of school. I know that’s pretty horrible, considering you had those bullshit charges and that was the only reason we got to shack up together five towns over. But it was nice coming home to you after classes. And waking up with you.”
Holy shit, what am I doing? I should not be talking about the past like this. Least of all about how great it was to sleep with him every night.
“Yeah. I had it easy compared to the other guys. I never really thought I’d be found guilty. I mean, you were my secret weapon.”
I have to smile at that. “I was, wasn’t I?”
“You made it all better, Tori. For real. I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you for sticking by me.”
I shrug. “You saved me, West. That night I stumbled onto your self-pity party out in front of the administration building changed my life.”
“Remember when we got that turtle?” He draws in a deep breath as he laughs.
“Sheldon.” I start giggling. “We were practicing being parents.”
“I think you took it a little too far when you started sewing clothes for him. Especially since you made him dresses.”
“Turtles can’t wear trousers.” My smile is so big my cheeks might crack.
“You were good at it, you know.”
“My grandma… adopted grandma. She taught me how to knit dolly clothes, even though I was too old to play with dolls when I met her. She said every mother needs to know how to make dolly clothes for their little girls. I bet she’d have loved to see Sheldon in his dresses.”
“Well, yeah, you were good at making turtle dresses. But what I meant is, you were good at all that stuff, Tori. That home stuff. Mom stuff.”
“West, please. Why do you always have to bring it up? I don’t know what to say to you about it. I don’t want to stay home and be some good little wife.”
“You could’ve been my wild wife.” And he says it so seriously, and he looks so sad as the words come out… I want to put my arms around him and apologize. “You could’ve been my crazy, wild wife, Victoria Arias. And I’d have fucking loved it. I would’ve let you throw plates at me. I’m pretty good at ducking.”
I take a deep breath and look down at my plastic carton of food. “It would’ve gone wrong fast enough.”
“Why?” he asks. “Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s what happens when you get married.” I look up at him. “You fall out of love. It might not happen right away but it always happens.”
“Says who, Victoria? There’s no time limit on love.”
I swallow hard and shake my head. “It’s inevitable. Nothing lasts forever. You have these perfect weeks of honeymooning and enjoying wild sex, and discovering everything about each other. But we already had that, Weston. And it was never enough for you. Why do you need that piece of paper?”
“Why don’t you need that piece of paper?”
“Because it’s meaningless—”
“It’s not meaningless. It’s got so much fucking meaning, Tori. It means you’re my wife. It means you’re my partner. It means you get everything of mine if I die. It’s a promise to each other, to our future kids, to the world.”
“It might mean that to you, but to me it means we’re on a time limit. It means the clock is ticking until we fall apart. It means we have an expiration date.”
He stops to consider my answer. It says a lot about me. Things I should probably not let him in on. “Is that why you always said no to me? Because we were doomed from the start? Because you’re afraid of falling out of love?”
“Sheldon couldn’t keep us together.”
West smiles, but it’s sad. “I have more faith in you than you have in me. And I hate that.”
“Why couldn’t we just stay the way we were? I mean, look at how much we fought, Weston. It was ridiculous.”
“Our fights were about the future. We never fought about day-to-day things. You never bitched at me about my socks on the floor or leaving dishes in the sink.”
“You’re a neat freak, I never had to.”
“I never bitched at you for spending money or cleaning the house.”
“You’re filthy rich, Weston. And we had a maid clean the house.”
“See how perfect we were?” He’s got a smile on his face, but there’s a lot of uncertainty in that smile.
“Do you want to get back together with me?” I ask. “Is this what you’re doing right now? Courting me for a renewed relationship?”
He stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head. “No. I just want you to realize that we were good. And the reason we fell apart was because you were afraid.” I’m about to say something, but he continues. “Besides. We can’t go back anyway. I feel like we never even knew each other.”
I start picking at my food. “Well, that’s true. How could I ever be with a man who refuses to tell me about his past?”
“Do you want to know my past, Tori?”
I shrug, but, “Yes, of course,” comes out of my mouth.
“I want to know yours too. Let’s tell each other our pasts. Tonight. Let’s pretend it’s that first week we met and that rape charge never happened. That you weren’t reeling from a bad breakup and that asshole didn’t rape you the next night. That we didn’t get distracted and just meld together into a team before we were ready. Let’s try that beginning again. I want a do-over.”