Fiancée for Rent by Elizabeth Grey
Chapter 21
Kylie
I sat and watched him pack without saying another word. After he left, I continued to sit in the bedroom for a long time by myself. For the most part, I listened to the noises around me, the farm working in the distance, the strange methodical hum of nature close by, the clicking of an old clock on my dresser. The sharp musk of his cologne lingered in the room. Tension hung thick in the room, making each breath an achievement. As I looked around me, I saw the familiar elements to my room—my high school achievements, my quilt, my things. Loneliness took on a new meaning as it stood out in all five senses, left a hole in my center, robbed me of my ability to move, to think, to even want to.
The natural inclination toward humiliation had taken a back seat to what I'd lost, the indefinable relationship I'd no longer wrestle with to figure out. At one point, I dared to look at the news articles online, even as I continued to ignore the multitude of texts from Cynthia.
Each picture struck me as more horrid, more scathing than the last. While I had a stage name, someone somewhere had realized that the images he'd taken were the same woman who'd gotten engaged to Liam Hendrix. I marveled at all that had to come together for such a revelation to happen. But then again, people in Hollywood who found themselves obsessed with the stars seemed to have far too much time on their hands.
When the pictures had been taken, I was out of my mind with grief over David. I didn't care about anything other than staying out of Montana. So, I used the body I had to make enough money for rent and food. I have to say, looking back, I'd learned the moves that had gotten me the bimbo roles on those poles. Snowball effect and all, as I sat in my room, reliving the moments of taking my clothes off for men to drool over my body. Maybe those evenings had made it easy for me to do the same on film and to sign a contract to marry a man I barely knew.
I sold my soul in a way, several times, all in the pursuit of my dreams, because without David, what else did I have? But, at that moment, I felt emptier than I'd ever been. As though all the losses over the years had left me a shell, a body, without direction.
Liam hadn't allowed me to really explain myself before he left. I didn't understand a man like him who cared so much about what everyone else thought to arrange a whole fake marriage over it. I thought it was more a media stunt. I, on the other hand, had sold my soul to get my movie made. In my mind, he fared much worse in the arguments for our little plan.
I'd been raised not to judge. The man had a hard upbringing, a silver spoon in his mouth, fame, and fortune handed to him on a silver platter. I'd begun to discover over the past days that each had come with a price.
Just when I'd begun to see him as a better man than I'd guessed, he'd acted like this. My mind spun in a million different directions until I had to lay back on the bed while the room seemed to spin. My fingers gripped into my stomach as it protested the swarms of emotions that arose once I let the flood walls break. To add insult to injury, the stupid thing dared to growl for food, too. All the years I'd starved myself to get roles went to the wayside in a plot hatched to eat my feelings. Everyone else did it.
Still, in a mismatched sweatshirt from college and holiday leggings, my hair a mess from running my hands through the sleep produced tangles and twirling the ends around my fingers, I set my socked feet on the floor, heaved my weighted limbs to standing, and made my way to the door. As I took a deep breath into tight lungs, I glanced back at the room, which felt so empty without a man I'd only known a few weeks more than we'd been here together. Like it or not, I'd let myself get to know him, flaws and all. And for the most part, I liked too much of what I'd seen.
Alone, I'd found the kitchen empty. The farm had gone about its workday without care for my pain. Surely, my parents thought about and talked about me, but the cows had to be milked, and so many other things had to be done that I'd been left to my own devices for a while.
My stomach still growling, I scoured through the kitchen, looking for something to eat. By then, most of the Christmas leftovers had been eaten, and I wasn't even sure if I could manage to keep anything down. I settled on a cinnamon muffin.
His name echoed in my head, roused something in my core, made me take a massive bite of the pastry in my hand as if I had something to prove to the harmless lump of sugar, butter, and flour.
As the cinnamon chips melted in my mouth, I moaned out loud, first from the taste and second to spot the empty coffee pot. I shoved another hunk into my mouth, an amount I could barely close my lips over, as I made my way to the pot to make more. At the same time, my mother came in to get a start on lunch.
"Oh, let me make that for you, dear," she cooed as her brow wrinkled over the look of me, having settled on my mouth from which crumbs spilled as I chewed.
"I'm sorry, Liam and you had a fight, and he left early. I'm sure you'll work this out once the heat dies down, once the papers have something else to talk about. I'm about to throw together a few sandwiches. Turkey with spinach and pepper jack, your favorite. Would you like one?"
"Yes, please," I said, grateful she hadn't intended to lecture me.
"What you did is your business. You were an adult. They were your mistakes to make and learn from. But if you want to talk, you always know where to find me. We'll probably put you to work, but you are welcome."
"Thanks, mom. I love how nothing changes here. Do you like it?"
"I love it, honey. I was meant to be a farmer's wife. It suits me. And with every passing year, I love your father more. I didn't settle. I got a man who cares about me, about his family, who works hard and loves harder. Not every woman wants the lights and attention of Hollywood."
"I didn't either. Well, I guess I did as a writer, a producer, but not as an actress. But, as much as I love this farm, I wasn't meant to be a farmer's wife."
"If we were all the same, the world sure would be a boring place. And so would marriage if we always got along. A couple is meant to live and grow together. The commitment is in being friends as well as lovers, in communicating, and learning why the other does and says what they do," she said after she set a cup of coffee in front of me.
She gave me a squeeze before she took off for the fridge again to start the sandwiches.
"Thanks, mom. I appreciate the understanding And the advice. I don't know how you always know what us kids are thinking."
"Years of experience raising you, getting to know you, and a mother's intuition."
"I love you, mom. Thank you for not making me feel worse."
"Oh, the guilt trip, that's all on you, honey. Part of the process. What to do next about Liam, well, while I can tell you about my life, give you advice, that's all on you, too. You have to make your own mistakes, learn your lessons, and from them, come up with the best decisions you can. It breaks my heart to see you hurt, but I trust in the amazing lady you've grown to be. You've had a few rough patches in your life, one worse than any mother wants to see their child bear, but you made it through that, and you will make it through this. Trust your feelings. Trust your gut."
I bit into the muffin again as my father came through the door.
"I was going to bring the sandwiches out, just a little behind talking to Kylie," my mother said.
"I came in to see if you'd talked to Kylie, actually," my father said as he planted a kiss on his wife's cheek.
"As you can see, she's eating her emotions, so I'd say that's a good sign," my mother teased.
I grimaced at her as my father came up to plant a kiss on my forehead.
"How are you doing?" he asked. Genuine concern had replaced the disappointment from earlier.
"I honestly don't know," I muttered with a hand over my mouth this time.
"Well, give it time. Nothing's ever broken if you want to work on it, put in the effort. Liam seems like a kind guy with a big heart that might want a bit too much, so he gets hurt too easily. But, he'll calm down, and I'm sure you'll be able to talk."
"You're right on the spot there, dad. He's had a rough time, and I think someone said something last night that bothered him. The news this morning was just the last straw."
"If I can give you some advice," my father offered.
"Always, dad."
"If you have something to say, then say it. And, if you love someone, then fight for him. I wouldn't let anything or any situation take your mother from me."
"Thanks, guys. Both of you," I said, tears welling in my eyes.
As I took a sip of my coffee, my mother responded to my father's glance, "You're not the only one that can give parental advice."
He grabbed her arm, pulled her into his embrace. When she rocked off balance, she let out a giggle. He kissed her smiling mouth. The embrace, the kiss, it turned passionate, loving like a flash of heat between them. I wanted that raw emotion that ran so deep it could be tapped into at any moment. Had I experienced it with Liam already and not realized it?
"I need to talk to Liam," I said as I grabbed my phone. "I want to see him face to face. I'm going to fly home early. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all, dear. You go get your man back," my father said as he rearranged my mother to his side, his arm holding her body securely to his.
As I rushed from the kitchen, I didn't know what I wanted to fight for, but I had my mind determined to fight for Liam.