TWENTY-THREE
Mark Martin, the bloodsucking lawyer she’d hired, pushed a couple of papers across the desk and held out a pen.
“I just need your John Hancock and initials on all of the highlighted areas.”
Vivian had called him the moment she’d settled into the guest room and refused to be put off, insisting on coming in the following morning. Since it was just a matter of signatures, Martin hadn’t been in much of a position to refuse. Besides, he was in it for the money, and she was paying. Win-win for both of them.
Vivian scribbled her name and initials in all the appropriate places, her smile growing with each line filled. “I can’t believe I forgot to do this before.”
“Minor oversight. I would have tried to contact you, but you couldn’t be reached.”
Vivian’s nose scrunched. “Yeah, I was out of town.”
“So I heard. I hope you had a nice vacation?”
“Can’t complain.” It sure beat being back here, she thought. “So this is it?” she asked, flipping to the next page. “After I finish signing these papers, it’s done?”
“That’s it. I’ll get them filed with the court, and then you’re free and clear.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”
She’d just reached the last page when the phone rang. “Yes, Mary?” Martin answered, picking up the receiver, Vivian assumed, to keep the call confidential. “Tell him—I see,” he said with displeasure and hung up the phone.
Vivian lifted her head, her fingers pressing against the expensive ballpoint pen.
“Your husband is here.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, there was a tap on the door, and it opened, admitting the jerk in question.
“Am I too late?”
“You’re like a mosquito,” Vivian said by way of greeting. The man just kept buzzing around. She wanted to slap him.
Andrew looked down at her sitting in the chair across from her lawyer, pen in her hand, and then at the papers on the desk. “Vivian, let’s talk.”
“I already told you, the time for talking is over.”
“Would you like me to call security?” Martin offered.
“If you just give me ten minutes, I know I can change your mind.”
Vivian held up her hand to the lawyer, holding him off as she addressed Andrew. “My mind is already made up, Andrew,” she said, twisting the pen closed. “It’s done. The papers are signed.”
He looked stricken. “So that’s it? Just like that? You won’t even try to hear me out.”
“Nope.”
“Is it that hillbilly? Is he the reason for all this…change?”
“If you mean is he the reason I’ve finally grown a backbone,” Vivian rebutted, “no. The credit, surprisingly, goes to you. If you hadn’t shown me what a scumbag you really are, I never would have learned to stand up for myself. So, if you’re looking for thanks, that’s the only one you’re going to get.”
She stood and reached across the desk to shake Martin’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. I hope you don’t take offense, but I hope this is the last time we work together.”
“I’ll get these filed tomorrow, Ms. Parish.” His gaze flickered on Andrew. “Would you like an escort to your car?”
Vivian shook her head. “No, but thank you.” She wasn’t afraid of Andrew. He may puff his feathers and act tough, but beneath it all, he was soft.
Martin tipped his head. “Good luck moving forward.”
Andrew followed on her heels as Vivian made her way out of the office and back to her car. Thankfully, she’d had to park on the street beside a meter. If Andrew wanted to attack her, he’d have to do it in full public view, and she just didn’t see him tarnishing his good name with a criminal record.
He remained at her side all the way down to the lobby and out onto the sidewalk. “Vivian, be reasonable. We had a good relationship, didn’t we?”
“For the little we had, it wasn’t terrible,” she admitted, “but come on, Andrew, I don’t think either one of us truly ever loved each other. We were just trying to please other people.”
“I loved you,” he insisted.
Vivian stopped in the middle of the sidewalk in front of her car and turned to him. “You never loved me. You loved yourself and your job.”
“How can you say that?”
“One word: Trevor.”
He rolled his eyes. “Trevor was a one-time thing. I didn’t mean it.”
“Cheating is cheating, Andrew,” she said, exhausted with this conversation. “Why won’t you just admit you’re gay.”
His eyes darted around in sheer panic. “Shh! Keep your voice down.” He stepped closer, invading her personal space. “I am not gay. I think our honeymoon is proof enough of that.”
Yes, in the Riviera, they’d had plenty of sex. It wasn’t earth-shattering, but it wasn’t terrible. They’d had some fun, but that was as short-lived as their courtship, and then he’d gone off to tend to his own wants and needs with little regard to her.
“Fine, you’re bi.”
“I’m as straight as an arrow,” he argued.
Vivian sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. They weren’t getting anywhere with this. “Look, Andrew, if you want to lie to yourself, go ahead. But don’t ask me to participate in the lie with you. That isn’t fair to me, just like it isn’t fair to anyone else to have to live that way.”
He closed his mouth, appearing contrite, but no longer able to form an argument. Because he knew she was right.
She continued. “I don’t hate you, Andrew, but I think you have a lot of stuff to sort out. And that doesn’t include me. I’ve moved on with my life, and you should, too. I just hope you realize that, whatever you choose to do with it, you don’t have to do it by anyone else’s standards. If you want to be with Trevor—”
“We’re not together,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Then whomever. But if that’s where you find your happiness, that’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of your choices. You just have to own them.”
He stood there, the muscle in his jaw ticking and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, staring her down in such a way that Vivian began to reconsider if she was in danger after all. That was her cue to leave.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she offered and carefully stepped around him. She wasn’t going to continue sticking around arguing with him. She’d said all she needed to say, and she’d stood firm and made herself clear. If Andrew didn’t get it now, then he never would.
But that was no longer her problem.
A twinge of sadness for the way things had transpired between them struck her as Vivian pulled away, leaving Andrew standing alone in the middle of the sidewalk. But she couldn’t dwell on the past any longer. It was all behind her now, and with the papers signed, she could officially move on without worry.
When she reached her parents’ apartment building, she parked in the guest space and rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor, letting herself inside like she used to do when she actually lived there.
The apartment was quiet, except for the faint sound of a vacuum running somewhere down the west wing. She went east, where the guest room was located and closed herself inside.
Decorated in pale blues and whites, it had an ultra-modern, ultra-clean, ultra-everything feel to it that wasn’t exactly comfortable but wasn’t uncomfortable either. She was afraid to get anything dirty, it was so pristine, but she walked across the carpet in her shoes anyway and laid down on the bed, allowing her make-up covered face to touch the duvet.
What a day. What a week. She was tired, not just physically but mentally.
To make matters worse, all she kept thinking about was Nash and Gretta and how nice it would be to share a cup of iced tea out on the porch while they watched the sun set and commented on the workers’ physiques.
Her time on the farm had been so short-lived, it felt almost like a dream.
Thinking of Gretta and missing…everything, Vivian dug her cell phone out of her clutch and dialed her friend’s number.
“Hello?”
“Gretta, hey,” Vivian greeted, unsure of her welcome.
“Oh hi, dear. How are ya? Enjoyin’ the city life?”
Staring at the ceiling, Vivian directed all of her nervous energy to her feet, which dangled over the edge of the bed, twisting and wiggling nonstop. “It’s okay. Just signed those papers.”
“Ah, so the jerk wasn’t lying after all.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Vivian quipped, and they both laughed.
“How’s the family? Getting along okay?”
“Same as ever,” she replied, thinking of how quiet everything was and had been. After her talk with her mother on the balcony, they hadn’t crossed paths since. Her mother was always running off to some breakfast, brunch, lunch, or dinner date, and there was always a party or a play or some other event going on that kept her away.
Nothing had changed.
“How are you?” she asked Gretta, thinking of her health and worrying how she was getting along without her to help in the kitchen.
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “But I sure do miss having a second set of hands in the kitchen. Didn’t realize how much those boys eat me out of house and home!”
“They sure do eat a lot,” Vivian agreed. Meals at Gretta’s house were as big as the holiday spreads in her family, which only came along a few times a year.
“All except one.” Gretta waited for Vivian to follow up, but she didn’t, already knowing who she was referring to. “Nash ain’t been the same since ya left. He hardly eats. I’m worried about him.”
“He’ll get over it,” Vivian told her. Although she sounded uncaring, she cared more than ever. Just hearing his name caused her pain, and that just wouldn’t do. They were over before they’d truly gotten started. It shouldn’t be this way.
“I think you’re wrong there,” Gretta insisted. “When I make a match, it’s always a good one, and you two are a perfect fit. Now if only one of ya would stop being such a stubborn ass, we could get this fixed right up and move along.”
“He had to hear the truth from my ex’s ears,” Vivian reminded her. “Doesn’t matter if I’d only just learned of the mistake, Nash didn’t want to hear it. He feels betrayed, and rightly so. I won’t harass him just because I care about him.” Besides, he had enough heartbreak already to last a lifetime without her adding to it.
“Mules,” Gretta muttered. “Fine, then let’s talk about something else.” She changed the topic to the more titillating, telling her how the rumored sex shop owner, Jenna, had just purchased more retail space downtown, and Gretta and a few other ladies were nearly certain it was going to be the town’s first R-rated store.
It was the biggest scandal they’d had since the Jones boy ran his daddy’s tractor into the pond the previous summer during an unsolicited tractor race with a few of his friends in the middle of the night.
“So when are you plannin’ to come home?” Gretta asked as their conversation wound down.
“You mean to the farm?”
“Well, I sure wasn’t talking about Canada.”
Vivian hated that they were back to this. “It’s not my home, Gretta. I don’t have a home right now.”
“Nonsense,” she scoffed, and Vivian could picture the woman brushing her hand through the air. “Your home is where you have people who care about you and want you around.”
Vivian considered this. If that was true, then the city and her parents’ apartment certainly wasn’t her home. They couldn’t care less if she was around. As long as they knew she existed in the world and she was falling in line with their own plans, it seemed to be enough.
Unable to formulate a response without risking offense, Vivian said, “I’ll be hitting the road in the morning. I’m thinking I’ll head west, see if anything speaks to me.”
“If you find yourself passin’ through, stop by for a cup of tea, eh?”
“I sure will,” she promised.
Sadness filled the silence, and Vivian couldn’t hold on any longer. “I’ll talk to you soon. Take care of yourself.”
“Always do.”
The moment Vivian ended the call, the tears began to roll. Turning onto her side, she let all of the hurt from the last several days—maybe even months—out. Every betrayal, every disappointment, every loss and broken dream soaked into that nice, expensive duvet in a mélange of taupe and rose and black mascara that the poor dry cleaner was going to have a hell of a time getting out, but Vivian didn’t care.
When a heart was full of sorrow and pain, one way or another, it had to come out or risk complete and total destruction.