He’s an incredibly attentive, supportive, and loyal husband. It took a while for him to earn back my trust, and I kept him at arm’s length a lot that first year, out of necessity for my sanity. I couldn’t be sure who the father of my baby was, and I wouldn’t accept Reeve’s marriage proposal or be seen with him in public until after Easton was born and the paternity test confirmed he was his dad.
Even then, I had to think long and hard about my motivations before finally agreeing to marry Reeve. I needed to ensure it was for the right reasons.
I spoke with a therapist at length, and she helped me to untangle my jumbled emotions. She helped me to understand the complexities of a woman’s heart. To accept that it was okay to love Dillon from a distance while promising to share my life with Reeve. I don’t regret that decision. Reeve loves me, and I love him, and we’re good together, but Dillon will always own a piece of my heart.
“I knew this day would come. I knew I couldn’t continue to avoid events where Collateral Damage was playing. It’s a miracle I’ve gone this long without bumping into one of them.”
“What if Ash seeks you out?” Audrey quietly inquires.
Positioning my cell against the stack of books on my desk, I sigh as I lean forward. “If she does, it’s probably to strangle me. I’m ashamed of lots of things I did that year, but ghosting my Irish bestie is the worst.” It wasn’t by choice. It was a necessity, but that doesn’t make it any easier to live with. I hate I let her down. That she must be wondering what she did to deserve the cold shoulder.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Viv. You know you couldn’t stay in contact with her while there was a possibility the baby was her brother’s kid. At least in cutting her off you weren’t lying to her.”
“A lie of omission is still a lie, and it must have hurt so bad. I know it hurt me.”
I still miss Ash. So fucking much. She’s the band’s manager, and I’m sensing she might have been behind the change in name. She always thought Toxic Gods was a shit name for a band, but I felt it suited them.
Pictures of her are everywhere, and she travels with the band full-time, just like she told me she would. Her relationship with Jamie seems solid too. News of their engagement was splashed all over social media last year. Ronan had a baby with his Irish girlfriend a few months ago, and, apparently, they are getting married soon. Dillon and Conor are regularly pictured with different women on their arms, and rumors suggest Dillon has an alcohol problem. That pained me to hear, and I wonder who is looking after him. I know Ash must be trying, but she’s got her own life to lead, and she can’t babysit her brother forever.
I’m not on social media much, having learned that lesson the hard way years ago, but Audrey fills me in on shit she thinks I need to know.
“I wish I could be there with you.”
“Me too. We need to plan a vacation soon before I get too big to fit into a plane.”
She rolls her eyes. “Always with the drama.”
We chat about her job, Alex’s desire to start a family as soon as she graduates, and her creep of a stepdad before she has to go. She wishes me luck at the ceremony tomorrow night, and before we hang up, I promise to message her if anything happens.
“Mommy!” Easton comes bursting into my room. “I found more worms.” He holds up a jar of wriggly, writhing creatures, and I clamp my lips shut, rubbing my stomach to ward off my shivers. Ugh. Any kind of wriggly creepy-crawly makes me shudder.
Reeve chuckles, sauntering into the room, looking hotter than sin in his jeans and tight-fitting Henley. “Buddy, what have I told you about bursting into Mom’s office without knocking?” He ruffles his hair before bending down to kiss me, grabbing a sneaky feel of my ass. “You look beautiful, my love. Pregnancy really suits you. I should knock you up more often.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I semi-joke.
“What does knock you up mean?” Easton asks. His big blue eyes bounce between me and Reeve.
“This one’s on you, babe.” I cross my arms and smirk at my husband, wondering how he’s going to explain this to our inquisitive son.
64
“You have no reason to be nervous, babe. I know you hate the cameras, but you are stunning. Easily the most gorgeous woman in the room and on the planet,” Reeve says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I’ve been a basket case since arriving at the Dolby Theatre three hours ago, but it’s not for the reasons my husband thinks.
My best friend guilt joins my other friend panic, and they take turns punching me in the face.
I know the members of Collateral Damage are about seven or eight rows behind us as I spotted the top of Dillon’s bleach-blond head when we were walking to our seats in the front row. It’s a miracle I didn’t throw up on the spot. I about died when Reeve stopped at the row in front of them to say hello to a few actor friends. Prickles of awareness danced across the bare nape of my neck, and I just knew he was looking at me. The urge to turn around and lock eyes with him was almost insurmountable, but I managed to resist, and thankfully, Reeve didn’t linger too long.
Nerves fire at me from every angle as Collateral Damage takes to the stage. I have no choice but to look at them because we’re in the front row and the camera regularly sweeps our way. Trying to keep a fake smile plastered across my face while my heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest is monumentally hard.
Dillon owns the stage like he always does, and it’s hard not to get swept up in the song. They are so good live. Incredibly talented, and I’m very proud of them. I wish I could tell people I knew them when they were a talented local band in Ireland, but to do that would be risky when Reeve doesn’t know. Volunteering that information now, after all this time, would hurt my husband, so I won’t go there.
Dillon’s laser-focused gaze slides to mine, and I stop breathing. He’s got one leg elevated, resting on a speaker, as he makes love to the mic, belting out the lyrics in his unique style.
He hasn’t changed much at all. His blond hair is a bit longer, tucked behind his ears, the length resting at his nape, and he has more ink, judging by the designs peeking out from the top of his T-shirt, but that’s it. He’s still wearing all black. Still wearing his piercings. Still ripped in all the best ways.
He looks hot as fuck and every bit the tormented soul I fell in love with.
I feel Reeve glance at me, as Dillon continues staring at me, but I pretend I don’t notice anything strange, smiling and dancing in my seat along with the other guests. Inside, I’m screaming at Dillon to knock it off before he outs us to the entire freaking world. Ro glances my way from behind his drums, quickly averting his gaze when our eyes meet. Conor is in his own little world, as usual, and Jamie sends daggers my direction a couple of times.
I’m sweating bullets under my gorgeous red Christian Dior dress and squirming in my seat like I’m sitting on poison ivy.
“Are you okay?” Reeve whispers in my ear, noticing I’m hella distracted.
I whip my head around to my husband. “I need to go to the bathroom,” I lie. “Do you think it would be okay to slip away now?” We’re supposed to wait for breaks to leave our seats, but I’ll play the pregnancy card if I need to.
“Go. If anyone gives you grief, you let me deal with it. Do you want me to come with?”
“You can’t leave, and I’m a big girl. I can make it to the bathroom by myself.”
I don’t look at the band as I creep out of the auditorium, releasing the breath I was holding when I hit the hallway leading to the bathrooms.
I’m trembling as I sit on the toilet seat after I’ve attended to business. Seeing Dillon again has rattled me. It’s dredging memories to the surface. Memories I’ve worked hard to bury, and my heart is splitting open again. I dab at the tears spilling silently down my cheeks, praying I can do a good enough repair job with my makeup to disguise my anguish from my husband.