“But what about immigration? They’ll know what’s happened with Vaughn. Everyone knows.”
“I’m a US resident now, Charly. As far as immigration is concerned, you had an affair. Even if we get divorced, it won’t change anything to do with my residency. We only stayed married to make it seem real. You having an affair seems real enough.” He chuckles.
“Not funny.”
“Sorry.”
I let out a sad sigh, picking at the hem of my top. “He’s never going to forgive me.”
“Vaughn? He will when you tell him the truth.”
“I was going to. I just didn’t get the chance.”
“You should have talked to me, Charly. Told me how serious it was getting between the two of you. I would have encouraged you to tell him about you and me. We could have started the divorce proceedings.”
“I know. I fucked up. Big time. I’m sorry.” I feel like that’s all I’ve been saying. “I should have discussed it with you first before considering telling Vaughn. But the decision was taken out of my hands.”
“Do you trust Vaughn?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Then, I trust him, too. Go see him, and tell him everything. He’s gotta be hurting a hell of a lot right now. The very least he deserves is to know that what the press is saying isn’t exactly the truth.”
“But I don’t know where he is, Nick. He left hours ago, and he hasn’t been back since. Alex says he doesn’t know where he is, that he can’t get ahold of him. Not that he would tell me even if he did know where he was.”
“I’m guessing he wants to be alone right now. Do you know of any places where he would go to do that?”
I don’t even need to think about it. “He’d go home.”
God, his family. What must they think of me? They’re going to hate me for what I’ve done to him.
The thought makes my heart break just that little bit more.
“So, go there. Talk to him.”
“What if he won’t listen to me?”
“Then, make him listen. You can be pretty persuasive when you want to be.”
“And you’ll be okay there with the press?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“Love you, too, gorgeous. Now, go get your man.”
I hang up with Nick and look up flights to Oregon. There’s one leaving in three hours. There are no direct flights. I’ll have to fly from Vegas to Portland. Then, from Portland to Klamath Falls. It’ll take five hours to get there. There’s no private jet to get me there in two hours now. And the ticket is nearly four hundred dollars. But it’s worth it. Even if I just get to see him one last time.
Using my credit card, I book the ticket.
I quickly pack my things into my case, and then I call down to the front desk and ask them to call me a cab, for it to pick me up outside the parking garage. I don’t want to risk running into any press outside the hotel.
Before I leave my hotel room, I fire off a quick text to Ava, telling her that I’m leaving and that I’m sorry and I’ll call her soon. I’m too chickenshit to call her right now.
I drop my phone in my bag and let myself out of the room.
I manage to make it to the lobby. I drop my key into the quick checkout box. The studio is paying for my room, so the hotel will just invoice them.
I take the elevator down to the parking garage. I walk up to the car entry and slip out under the barrier. Then, I wait by the wall for my cab.
It appears a few minutes later. The cabbie gets out and puts my case in the trunk.
“The airport,” I tell him as I climb into the backseat.
I hear my phone beep a text.
My heart races. I wonder if it could be Vaughn, but I know it won’t be.
It’s Ava.
Ava: Don’t worry. I understand. Just call me as soon as you can. Let me know you’re okay. Love ya. xx In that moment, my heart swells. She didn’t even try to question me about Vaughn. She just cares that I’m okay.
Maybe I do have more good friends than I realized.
Eight hours later, five of them spent on two different planes, and I’m back in Klamath Falls Airport where I flew out of a day ago with Vaughn.
I can’t believe how much has changed in twenty-four hours.
I head outside to the taxi area and toward a waiting cab.
Then, I realize that I don’t actually know Vaughn’s address. Shit.
“Where to, love?” he asks me through the open window.
“Keno. About a mile past the elementary school. I’ll know it when I get there.”
“Okay,” he says. “You want your case in the trunk?”
“Please.”
He gets out of the car and takes my case from me. I climb into the backseat and put my seat belt on.
He gets back in the car, and then we’re moving.
I sit on my hands and try to pretend that they aren’t shaking and that my heart isn’t racing.
Twenty minutes later, the cabbie is driving past the elementary school. I recognize the upcoming turn.
“Left here,” I tell the cabbie.
He takes the turn and starts to drive down the driveway toward the farm.
“Keep going past the first house,” I tell him.
He drives past Vaughn’s parents’ house and then up to Vaughn’s house.
“Nice place,” he comments.
I pay him the fare and climb out. “I’ll get my case; don’t worry,” I tell him.
I lug my case from the trunk, and the cab pulls away.
I stare up at Vaughn’s house.
You can do this, Charly.
I take a deep breath. Legs trembling, I pull my case up onto the porch and knock on his door.
It’s silent. There’s no movement.
I knock again louder and wait. After a few minutes, I finally accept that he’s not here.
Shit.
What do I do?
I came all this way, thinking he’d be here, that I hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t be.
I can go to his parents’, but honestly, I’m afraid to face them. What they must think of me.
I can wait here, but if he doesn’t come, then I’m stuck.
Fuck. I didn’t think this through at all.
A lump thickens in my throat. And I feel like I might cry. Only I can’t fucking cry. Not even yesterday when I had to tell Vaughn that I was married. My eyes welled with tears, but they never fell.
I’m broken.
I’m a screwed up, broken, fucking idiotic twathole of a person.
And I’m staring at his front door like it’s somehow going to magically open.
I turn around, unsure of what to do, and then all thoughts fall from my mind. Because he’s standing there at the front of his driveway, staring at me.
He looks beautiful. Tired but beautiful. My heart actually starts to ache from his nearness. My hands itch to touch him.
“What are you doing here?” he says in a low, hard voice.
I take a strengthening breath in. “I need to talk to you.”
“I already told you back in Vegas that I heard all I needed to. Shouldn’t you be in New York right now? I think you owe your husband a bigger explanation than you do with me. You did promise to honor him and not screw around behind his back.”