He walked up to me, his jaw steeled, that anger he stored between his eyebrows creating parallel lines above his nose. But I think I could argue that I had more right to be mad than he did.
Instead of answering, James practically spit out, “Who is he?”
I looked around, confused. I hadn’t seen my husband in weeks. I had just lied to him repeatedly via text message, and he obviously knew it. This seemed like an odd first question. Like maybe you’d be mad I stole your daughter? But this was good. Whatever was making him so angry was something I might want to go with. It might keep me off the hook a little longer.
“Who is who?” I asked nonchalantly, crossing my arms over my belly.
He thrust his phone into my hand and pushed past me, looking around, as though this were my love nest and I had some man sequestered away here, not that it was my mother’s house that I was sharing with my entire family.
I almost laughed out loud. There it was. That picture of me kissing Kyle on the cheek.
If it were possible, Kyle looked even hotter online than he did in real life. Way to go, Coffee Kyle. Giving me my street cred back. And there I was, pregnant belly in all its glory, as I was turned to the side. But my cheekbones looked very high. Mom and Emerson high. My facial skin must be stretching with the pregnancy. Or Emerson had used the Photo Plastic app before posting the picture on Instagram. I was going to go with that being what I actually looked like.
I smirked. “So what, James? Did you expect me to sit around here and mope and mourn forever?” Like I actually have been doing . . .
“Gee,” he said sarcastically. “I don’t know, Caroline. I guess maybe I thought that you would wait longer than a few weeks to be out gallivanting.”
I laughed ironically. “Is that a joke? Are you serious right now? You’ve been screwing Edie Fitzgerald for months, while we are married, while I am pregnant with your child, and you’re worried about me moving on.” I stomped to the front door, flung it open, and said, “Get out.”
He stopped in his tracks, a stunned look taking over his face. “Wait,” he said. “I got off to a bad start here. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. I got so worked up on the plane that I couldn’t do this right.”
I crossed my arms. “James, get the hell out of the house. I will call the police chief, and let me tell you, this is a small town. We are friends, and he won’t give a shit about you and your slicked-back hair and your tight suits. Understand me?” Oh, that suit . . . He did this on purpose. He knew I couldn’t resist that suit. It was cruel.
He looked around. “Where is Vivi?”
“She’s on set with Emerson.”
“Set?” he said, his nostrils flaring. “Is she with Kyle? Are they bonding? Getting tight? Is he moving in on my wife and my child?”
“James, I’m only your wife on paper. I would think you would know that better than anyone.”
He smiled at me with something like nostalgia on his face. It was so odd. James took two steps closer to me and reached out to take my hand.
I slapped his away. “Do not touch me ever again. Do you understand? I do not want your nasty supermodel hand on me. God only knows where she’s been.”
“Caroline,” he said softly. “I came all the way out here to tell you that I miss you, to tell you that I made a huge mistake. I want our family back.”
They weren’t bad words to hear. They really weren’t. They almost brought tears to my eyes, despite how angry I was. Because no matter how I acted, all I’d ever wanted was a family. But I knew better than this.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “James Beaumont, if you think I’m going to take you back and then you won’t have to pay me, you’ve got another think coming. I suggest you get the hell off my property.” I realized I sounded downright Southern when I said it. A few weeks here, and I was totally ruined—or saved. It was hard to tell.
He smiled calmly. “That’s fine, Caroline,” he said. “Have it your way. But I’m not leaving until you give me another chance.”
I crossed my arms. “Then you’d better head over to the graveyard and pick out a burial plot, James Beaumont. Because I will never, ever take you back on this side of hell.”
I picked up my phone and showed it to him. “I will ask you one more time. And then I will call the cops. They have nothing else to do.”
James smiled and put his hands up in surrender. “Fine,” he said. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.” He stopped on the first step and turned to look at me. “And Caroline, so you know, the only reason I’m not suing the shit out of you right now for kidnapping my daughter is that I love you so much and I want to work this out. But don’t think that I don’t know what you’re up to. Got it?”
And it made me think there was a chance, a small one, that James might actually want me back for real.
* * *
I WAS INCREDIBLY SUPPORTIVE of Emerson’s acting dreams, sure. But that didn’t mean I understood where she was coming from. Obviously, I had gone through a stage where I wanted to be Cinderella, like any other self-respecting American girl. But once I outgrew that, I never dreamed of my name in lights.
I hoped against hope that Vivi’s overwhelming enthusiasm about being in this movie wasn’t a sign that she would want to act. I sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window while Mom drove. Sloane had stayed behind to start working on dinner. That was a good thing, because I certainly couldn’t cook.
I wasn’t sure how I could do anything except think about what had happened a few days ago with James, but we had promised Vivi that we would come watch her film. Emmy had acted liked she didn’t want us to come, but Mom and I reasoned that she was simply being shy about her accomplishment. It was kind of charming. So we were excited to surprise her.
Today’s scenes were on the beach, which I thought was particularly fabulous—and particularly close. The best way to get the real feel of the Georgia coast was to film on the Georgia coast, after all. I hadn’t gotten to see Emmy in action in quite some time, and I couldn’t wait to find out more about this secretive project she was working on.
When we got there, Vivi ran to me, amid the cameras and lights and throngs of people milling about. There were clothes racks and sun reflectors, hair and makeup people, sound crews. This was the real deal.
“Mom!” she said. “I get a whole line! I’m going to say, ‘I want to be exactly like her when I grow up.’?”
“Wow!” I said. “That is so amazing, sweets. You’ll be in the credits and everything. First step toward stardom.” I winked at her, and she ran back over to Emerson, while I silently hoped that she would realize this life wasn’t as glamorous as it seemed.
Mom said, “Wow. Can you imagine getting all of this together here?”