The View Was Exhausting by Mikaella Clements

Chapter Nine

The faster Win got Leo out of there, the faster she could solve whatever was bothering him. But it was a slow, stately crush as they filed off the yacht, broken glass crunching underfoot and a weeping socialite behind them who demanded Leo’s jacket to cover up the candle wax stains on her dress. He shrugged it off wordlessly.

There were golf carts waiting at the bottom of the hill to carry them up to the château, and Leo climbed into the first one they could reach, tapping his hand on the wheel while Win buckled herself in. Usually he would have wanted to race her, or hijacked the cart altogether and swerved them off into the grounds for a joyride. Tonight he was pale and tense, and they didn’t speak until they lurched to a halt at the top.

“Where’s the car?” he asked.

“It’s waiting for us out the front, on the other side. We just have to get through the party.”

Leo nodded grimly, and when they reached the castle, he treated these instructions as though they were a military mission, catching Win’s hand tight and pulling her through the crowd. It was slow-going: the castle was a series of warren-like rooms with wood-paneled ceilings and marble surfaces, guests already draped over them like expensive furniture. It was hotter inside than it had been out at sea, and people were fanning themselves and dabbing at their brows as they waited for someone to bring them their next drink. Every room was already packed, everyone smoking and chattering and glancing over at Win like they thought she wouldn’t notice. A hundred hands reached for Win’s and Leo’s sleeves, pulling them in, exchanging exuberant greetings.

“This is a nightmare,” Leo said.

“Just relax,” Win said. “We’re almost out.”

“Leo, Win! Wait up!” Alex caught up with them, now with a tall, stylish girl on his arm. Her eyes were lined into thick black points.

Leo faltered when he saw her. His hand tightened on Win’s hip.

“Hae,” he said. “I thought you weren’t coming until later.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Hae said. “Whitman Tagore, it’s such a pleasure.” Win shook her hand warily; Hae had a self-satisfied look to her, with eyelashes that seemed to catch and release every time she blinked, and she wound her arms around Alex and surveyed Win like she didn’t trust her.

“Let’s go,” Leo repeated.

“You can’t go!” Alex looked heartbroken. “We just got here. And I think the others will be around, too—”

“The others?” Win asked.

“Our band,” Hae explained. Her voice was lush Californian, raw gold. “Leo hung out with us for like, a year, he even came on tour—”

“It was just a few months,” Leo said. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. It’s too crowded here, Win, let’s just—”

“Yes,” Win said. “Sorry, maybe next time. We really have to get going—”

“Lenny!” someone shrieked, and Leo took a step backward, his face blooming with horror.

Shoving her way through the crowd, a girl in faded denim shorts and a halter top broke into a run, wild blond hair falling everywhere, and launched herself at Leo. Win stepped quickly away from the line of impact.

Leo stumbled back, hands coming up to grab the girl’s waist as she threw herself onto him. He said, “Lila,” and his voice was strained like Win hadn’t heard it in years.

“Where have you been, motherfucker?” she asked, climbing Leo like a tree. “You never check your goddamn emails—oof—” Leo had dropped her and tried to shake her off, but she clung on, her bare thighs tight around his hips, and instead climbed higher, trying to put him in a headlock. Leo struggled and the two of them went stumbling across the floor, the girl continuing as though there was nothing strange about this at all. “Hae and Alex got invites to this schmoozy yacht party—”

“Lila,” Leo said, shaking himself about like a dog trying to lose a tick, “Lila, c’mon, get off—”

Lila flung herself upward, catching herself over his shoulder with a yelp. “And I said, hello, you know I get seasick, but I’ll come to the after-party, and now you’re here as well!”

Leo put his hands up in the air, flatly refusing to hold her up, and Lila shrieked again and slid further, saving herself with her arms tight around Leo’s waist. She hung upside down over his shoulder, her cheek pressed to the small of his back. They were making a scene. A lot of people were staring. Win tried to smile as if she thought the whole thing was hilarious.

“Lila,” Leo repeated. “Seriously, get off me,” and he gave another determined wriggle and Lila said, “Oh, fine,” and dove forward into a—mildly impressive—somersault, nearly kicking Leo in the nose in doing so.

She landed on her feet with a flourish. When she straightened up, she was still a head shorter than Win. “I’m so underdressed,” she drawled, that nasal Californian accent like a skinnier version of Hae’s.

“Leo,” Win said. Leo turned to look at her, his expression frozen. There was an awful, hollow feeling expanding in Win’s chest.

Before he could say anything, Lila turned to Win and stuck her hand out. “And you must be the girlfriend,” she said, with a certain derision in her voice that made Win feel on show, seen.

Win took her hand and shook it. “That’s right,” she said, keeping her voice pleasant. “And you’re…?”

“Oh, babe,” Lila said. She leaned in and spoke in an exaggerated stage whisper. “I’m the wife.”

“Ha,” Win said. For a moment everything was blurry and then it coalesced again, Leo’s horror and Lila’s cocky smile. “What?”

Then Lila stuck out her hand, wiggling her fingers. On her left ring finger was a tarnished bronze band with a filmy pink jewel, just the same as Leo’s. Win blinked. She turned to Leo, who was clearly miserable, looked at his stricken face with his mouth half-open, looked at Hae and Alex, who were a mixture of laughing and guilty, and looked, finally, at Leo’s hand, at his fucking ring, at the ugly cheap ring that he’d lied to her about, once aloud and every second before and after, like she didn’t deserve to know the truth.

“Right.” Win thought of her conversation with Shift and of Leo’s desperate attempts to talk to her and wanted to laugh, hysterical and furious. God, she’d been such an idiot. Of course Leo wasn’t nurturing secret feelings for her. Of course it was this: Leo being irresponsible, and untrustworthy, and selfish, and reminding her for the hundredth time why they would never, ever work.

“Win,” Leo said. “Whitman, listen—”

“You can’t remember, huh?” Win said. She tried to keep her voice level. It was important not to attract any more attention. “You picked it up somewhere in Vegas? I—” She stopped and laughed. It sounded brittle even to her own ears. “No, right, that makes sense.”

“I think I won the rings, actually,” Lila said. “Leo’s got a terrible poker face.”

“Whitman,” Leo said. “Come with me—”

“No, you stay here,” Win said. “I’m leaving.” She turned and stalked away, keeping her face as composed as possible, pulling her phone out of her clutch with hands that were only slightly shaking. She couldn’t find the exit and the car that was waiting; she swung a hard right, deeper into the innards of the castle instead, wanting only to be away, and alone.

Leo followed her, though she moved quickly and darted through enough doors and crowds of milling people that he took a while to find her again. By then she’d discovered a side room, dark except for one bare bulb hanging in threads of electrical wiring from the ceiling, empty except for the mess of party planning, deflated balloons and used confetti dispensers shoved into boxes in the corner. When he came in she turned away, focused on her phone call.

“No, I’m fine,” she said. She was annoyed that Leo had come in time to hear her say so. It was true, but she thought it might be coming out defensive. “It’s a massive pain, of course, but—yes, I know—”

“Win,” Leo said as he closed the door. Win held out her hand, one finger pointed up, a polite one moment please. Leo’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll find the car,” Win said. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Hang up,” Leo told her. He was coming closer with intent; Win sidestepped him, skipped out of the way. “Win, c’mon, talk to me.”

“Yeah, I assume he’s here to grovel,” Win said. Leo’s mouth twisted. “Okay, look, I’ll talk to you soon. Thank you. Thanks. Bye.”

She hung up.

“Win.”

“Yep,” Win said. He was right there but she felt very far away. “Go on, then. Let’s hear it.”

Leo rubbed his hand over his face. He was like a child, Win thought, who didn’t know what to do with attention once he’d claimed it.

“You’ve got about five minutes,” Win said, tapping out a text message to Emil, “and then I’m leaving. I’ve got an early flight tomorrow, so—”

“What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Win said. “Did you want to hang around with your fake girlfriend and your apparently real wife? That’s such a sensible thing to do, it should have occurred to me.”

“Win,” Leo said, and took a step forward, grabbing her hands. “I’m really sorry. I should have told you.”

Win wrenched herself out of his grip. “You think?”

“I tried to,” Leo said. “But it’s complicated. I couldn’t get you alone, and then there was all this other stuff going on—”

“Right,” Win spat. “I forgot this was my fault.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Leo said. “Come on, Win, look at tonight—I tried to get you on your own—”

“You told me that you didn’t want to see the band because it ended weirdly,” Win snapped. “Is that your definition of a wedding?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Leo said. “I was trying to tell you and it was— We kept getting interrupted, I panicked. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“Oh, you’re such a gentleman.”

“Just listen to me.” Win wanted to look away and couldn’t. Leo could get so serious so fast, could demand things of her that no one else could. “I got a call from Marie in the middle of the night that Nathan fucked you over and you needed me and then—you wouldn’t talk about him—”

“What does Nathan have to do with any of this?” She took a step forward, set her hands against his chest, and shoved him. It felt good to finally shout, a month or a year or a decade’s worth of frustration unleashed on Leo, who finally deserved it. “You lied to me!”

“I know! I know!” Leo turned, running his hand over his head, taking a few rough steps away and whirling back. “I just mean everything was weird, and you were upset, and I wasn’t ready for it, and there was never a good time to tell you.”

“We’ve spent every day together for a week,” Win said. “Don’t blame this on me. You know what my life’s like. If you wanted to tell me, you would have told me.”

“I should have,” Leo said. He licked his lips. “I wanted to. I didn’t want it to be like this. Really, I’m not lying, I didn’t think we’d see her, I didn’t think it was going to be an issue. I wasn’t thinking about her, I was thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah, you’re such a good guy,” Win said, and leaned against the wall, arms hugged around herself. “Leo, you’re married?”

“It’s complicated,” Leo repeated. His voice sounded like it had been dragged over coals. “The whole thing was so intense. I haven’t even seen her in a couple of months, we barely talk.”

“I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Win said.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, this will,” she said. “You must know that.”

“I thought that I could explain in a way that would, like—” Leo stopped speaking so abruptly that Win turned to look behind him, wondering if someone had come in and shut him up. But it was just Leo, his brow furrowed in the dim light. “Wait. Will hurt you?”

“How long do you think you can keep your secret marriage a secret for?” she demanded. “You’re not this oblivious, Leo, come on!”

“What exactly are you angry at me about?” Leo’s voice was strained.

Win stared at him. “You know what.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, pushing off the wall toward her, “yeah, but—why, then?”

“You’re going to mess everything up,” she said. “The press are going to find out. No one’s going to believe in our relationship if you have a secret wife. If anyone figures out it’s a publicity stunt—”

“Holy shit.” Leo let out a breath, and Win felt her whole body light up with outrage.

“Do you think I’m jealous?” she snarled. “I’m working, Leo! I’m doing my job! You’re the one fucking about, you’re the one who thinks this doesn’t mean anything—”

Leo’s expression was mutinous. “Am I?”

“Yes! I trusted you! How am I meant to be able to trust you for this stuff when you keep secrets that can fuck everything up?”

“Who were you on the phone with just now?”

“What?”

“On the phone,” Leo said. “You were talking to someone about me. Was it Shift? Was it your mum?”

“No,” Win said. “No, obviously, it was Marie.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” Win snapped. “This is a business arrangement, and I don’t appreciate you acting like you don’t know that.”

“You don’t appreciate it,” Leo repeated, face dark with anger. “Jeez, Win, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I guess it’s just hard for us normal people sometimes. It gets hard being fake about everything all day every day. Not everyone lives their life based on what it’s going to look like on the fucking internet!”

Win gaped at him. That yawning, hollow, terrible feeling was eating further into her chest, and Leo was breathing hard, like it was something he’d wanted to say for a long, long time.

“You’re right,” she said. “You don’t care what your life looks like at all. You’re going to spend the next forty years being as spoiled and aimless as—”

“This isn’t about what I want to do with my life.”

“Nothing’s ever about what you want to do with your life,” Win said. She was rigid with the effort of keeping her voice level. “Are you mad at me for having ambitions? For going after them? You’ve been going on about your studio for years and you haven’t even picked a fucking country for it. Sometimes I think you just talk about it to cover up how empty your life is.”

“You got me,” Leo said through gritted teeth.

“It’s pathetic,” Win said. “Your whole life is set up for you and you still can’t do anything with it. You can have anything you want. All you have to do is take it, and you can’t even be bothered to reach out.”

“Fuck you, Whitman.”

Win bared her teeth in a smile. “I think that’s adultery now.”

“I can do what I want,” Leo said, stepping up close. “It was never part of our deal that I have to live by your robotic standards—”

“Then go live your life,” Win said, “and stop messing up my plans. Just leave.”

“No,” Leo said, “listen. You can manage Marie and Emil and the paparazzi—you can manage Nathan and your mum—but I won’t let you manage me.”

“I think you’ve misunderstood something there, Leo,” she said. “I’ve been managing you for years.”

They stared at each other. Leo was trembling with rage.

In her hand, where she was still clutching it, Win’s phone started to buzz. She looked down and saw Ma flashing up on the screen. Leo saw it too; his lip curled. You can manage your mum. Win wanted to hit something.

“Ma,” she said, picking up and turning away from Leo; she was done with Leo. “This isn’t a great time—”

“Whitman.” It wasn’t her mum. It was her aunt. “I’m sorry to call so late. But I think you need to come home.”