FOURTEEN
The rooster may have woken her up, but the murmured conversation was what captured her attention the following morning and had Vivian making her way downstairs. She recognized Nash’s deep timber immediately, mixed with Gretta’s softer motherly voice.
Intuition told her they were discussing something serious, and she should stay out of it, but the curious woman in her told her to stay quiet and listen closer, find out what she could.
She knew it was wrong as she crept down to the last stair and stayed put, straining to hear every syllable spoken between them. Judging by their low tones, she had a feeling it had something to do with her, with last night.
“…didn’t mean to,” she heard him say.
Was Nash regretting kissing her?
“I understand, but you can’t go beatin’ yourself up like this,” Gretta comforted.
Vivian’s thoughts strayed to his wife. Did he feel like he’d betrayed her with Vivian? She was gone from the world, but no doubt she wasn’t yet gone from his heart. It was selfish of her, but Vivian wondered how in the world she could compete with a dead woman…assuming there was any competition at all.
Their kiss could merely have been a mistake. Nash had put away a few beers. Maybe he was just a little drunk and didn’t mean to. Maybe he didn’t really like her like that. Maybe Vivian’s needy personality and loneliness, her own desire to be wanted, was creating connections that didn’t really exist.
Was she just fooling herself?
Disheartened, she decided she should return to her room and think about moving on, letting these people get back to their lives without her interference. It would probably be best for everyone if she did leave. Here she was forcing herself to fit in somewhere she never belonged and likely never would.
Like Nash had said, she was a kept woman. She was used to the finer things in life, in people taking care of her. Here, everyone was the total opposite. They worked hard every day for what they had. They were warm and caring, loving even to strangers. It just felt so good to be surrounded by all of that. She’d thought maybe she could touch some of that, maybe find herself here, but maybe none of it was meant for her.
She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t stay here. But she could take with her a few memories.
Silently climbing the stairs back to her room, Vivian packed everything of hers back into their suitcases and, when she was done, carried the first and heaviest of them downstairs, careful not to make any noise, so she didn’t arouse notice.
The last thing she wanted to do was have it out with Gretta over her leaving. The woman would no doubt insist she stay, but it would be easier to fight with her after the car was packed and she was ready to leave.
Vivian didn’t get that far.
The moment she set foot on the front porch, Vivian’s arms grew heavy and fell to her sides, the suitcase crashing to the deck at her feet with a resounding thump. Shock stunned her stupid, as Gretta might say, as she stood there staring openmouthed at the sight before her.
A black limousine sat in the gravel driveway beside her Porsche, blocking Nash’s truck in from behind. She didn’t have to guess or take even a moment to think to know who was inside. When the back door opened, her suspicions were confirmed.
“What are you doing here, Andrew?” she asked through clenched teeth. It could only be one thing: he wanted to complicate her life further. “I already turned over the credit cards. What more do you want from me? How did you even find me?”
It wasn’t as if she’d left a forwarding address.
“Please, anyone can be found if you know who to pay.”
She’d bet that was true. Andrew always had a way of making the impossible happen. That’s how he’d gotten her to marry him. She hadn’t been interested initially, but he’d gotten in good with her parents and his family ran in all the same circles as her friends, too, so he was well-known. His party-boy reputation preceded him, which had been a turnoff, but then he’d maneuvered around her and everyone, wiggling his way into her parents’ and then her eventual good graces. She’d started off attending events as an extra, a friend, with no intention of anything moving beyond that, but his charm, wit, and intelligence, and her parents’ fondness for him eventually swayed her, and she’d grown attached.
She should have listened to that little voice inside her head when she’d had the chance. Too little, too late, but at least she was out now.
“Whatever,” she snapped. “What do you want?”
Andrew approached slowly, eying her Porsche that had been a Christmas present from him and was awarded to her in the divorce on those grounds alone. “We have a few things to discuss.”
“Like?” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Like you disappearing and leaving everyone worried.”
“Everyone? I highly doubt that,” she sneered, looking him up and down. How she ever thought the canvas shoes, khaki shorts, pink polo, and a sweater draped around the neck combination was attractive was beyond her. Jeans and basic white T-shirts held a far greater appeal these days.
“How can you say that?” he asked, appearing wounded as he reached the stairs and hesitated, Vivian’s warning look stopping him in his tracks. At least he was paying attention.
“The man you had an affair with helps.”
He brushed the accusation off as if she was speaking utter nonsense. “Vivian, honey—”
Vivian laughed outright, but it wasn’t borne of happiness—contempt at his audacity fueled the response. “We’re divorced, Andrew, in case you forgot. You don’t get to call me pet names anymore.”
“Divorced? No.”
“No?” Vivian repeated, frowning.
“The final papers only just came in yesterday. We haven’t signed anything yet. And, honestly, I’m glad,” he said as he took the first step.
Vivian backed away. He was lying. Had to be. She’d remember something that important. “Whatever, Andrew. Assuming I believe you, which I don’t, it’s a technicality and something easily resolved.” She’d have to contact her lawyer to be sure, but he was nearly positive he was pulling rabbits out of a hat.
“I made a mistake, honey. It’s not too late. Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
“Are you crazy? It’s entirely too late, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Fine, we’ll stay here,” he compromised, but she wasn’t having any of it.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“What’s going on out here?”
Vivian groaned and closed her eyes, rubbing the tension that had built between them. “Nothing, Nash. Just a discussion that is now over.”
“Doesn’t look like nothin’,” he observed, and the screen door squealed as she stepped out onto the porch behind her. “Who are you?”
Andrew’s chin lifted, and his shoulders squared in Nash’s presence as if he felt the need to look bigger than he actually was. “I’m Andrew DeBois, and I’m here to collect my wife.”
“Wife?” Nash questioned, and Vivian could feel his eyes boring into the side of her skull.
“He’s lying. The utterings of a fool who refuses to let go of what’s already gone. Ignore him,” she ordered over her shoulder, then gritted out, “We’re done, Andrew. Go home. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
His expression hardened.
Nash stepped in again. “It seems we’re at an impasse and the lady would like you to leave.”
Andrew, always assertive and overly confident, pointed a finger at him. “I’ll go when I’m good and ready. She and I have things to discuss.”
Vivian opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove his discussion when Nash held out a bracing arm to keep her back. “Then get a phone and text it to her. Or better yet, write a letter, since you know where she’s staying. But at this moment, she’s asked you to leave, and now so am I. Need I remind you that you’re on private property?”
“I don’t care whose property I’m on—”
“The sheriff will be here in a minute,” Gretta announced, joining them.
Vivian groaned again, despite the cheering going on inside her head. Way to go, Gretta! She loved that she had two very competent people beside her, but she hated that either of them had to witness this part of her life. Drama was never in style, no matter where you hailed from.
“Look, Andrew, just go. We don’t have anything left to talk about.”
“I want you back,” he announced to all and sundry. When she stood unmoved, he added, “Your mom and dad are at home waiting, too.”
At the mention of her parents, Vivian felt a momentary pang of regret and sadness, a sense of longing for home and the comforts it offered.
But then she remembered that it had never been much of a comforting place. Her parents weren’t uncaring people, but they weren’t the warmest either. They might be concerned about her well-being, but it was nothing a quick phone call wouldn’t fix. What she was really longing for was familiarity.
“I’ll contact them later to let them know I’m fine.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Andrew tried again. He glanced down meaningfully at her suitcase. “If you come with me now, we can fix this. Put the whole thing behind us and move forward. You wouldn’t have to live like…this anymore,” he said, wrinkling his nose up at the house.
Sure, it wasn’t the lap of luxury he was used to living in, but Vivian had long since shrugged off the shock of rural life and was finding it more suitable to her sensibilities than that stuffy museum Andrew called a home.
Behind her, Gretta snorted and uttered a few choice words that weren’t at all becoming of a woman her age but that Vivian knew were par for the course. Gretta had a sailor’s mouth. She just used it quietly so only those nearby knew how dirty it could get.
“I like it here,” she informed Andrew, refusing to buy into the offer he presented. That he thought she was as stuck up and materialistic as he was, was…well…
It may have been true once, but it had never been the real her. Vivian enjoyed fine things, but she wasn’t beholden to them or that type of lifestyle. At least, not anymore.
The quickness and ease with which she’d adapted made her hope that she was at least marginally better than the man who stood before her with his nose stuck in the air. And if she wasn’t? Well, then she was standing witness to everything she didn’t want to be any longer.
“Looks like you’re headed out?” Andrew observed, a challenge in his voice.
Vivian looked down at the suitcase and then guiltily up at Nash. His stoic expression offered nothing in return.
Did he want her to stay or go? Was he disappointed in her or had he expected her to leave all along? The most painful thing was not knowing.
Take a risk, she heard the little voice inside her head whisper.
“What I do or don’t do is no longer any of your business,” she informed him, then bent to pick up her suitcase. “I’ll be inside if anyone needs me,” she turned to tell Gretta and Nash.
Gretta nodded, a worried expression on her face and shifted to allow her to pass. Nash said, “I’ll make sure this one gets where he needs to go.”
While Vivian wasn’t sure what, exactly, he meant by that, she didn’t stick around to ask questions. One way or another, she figured he was going to make sure Andrew left, which was best for everyone because she had a feeling that she was going to be doing a lot of explaining shortly, and she wasn’t looking forward to any of it.