Fiancée for Rent by Elizabeth Grey
Chapter 24
Kylie
Almost a year after I said goodbye to Liam and called off the sham marriage, I sat with a rather Charlie Brown Thanksgiving meal of popcorn and candy with a bottle of wine. At the same time, I watched the holiday-themed Friends marathon back in my tiny apartment. As Monica danced with a raw turkey on her head, thoughts of my past year rambled through mine.
The breakup with Liam had played out as explosively in the press as the engagement had. At every turn, people had been guessing what happened given the facts they'd known about Montana, Liam's song, my stripping reveal. I'd largely avoided the news, hell I'd avoided going outside, for some time after, having told Cynthia, in no uncertain terms, that I was done with acting. With some creative budgeting, I'd managed to live off what I'd made so far in previous movies. Thanks to my thrifty nature, meager savings, cheap apartment, and movie roles, I'd basically bought myself almost twelve months to write, to really invest in my dreams. I'd taken a few classes online even, brushed up on some old skills while inciting new ones.
While I'd lived on apples, popcorn, and wine, my best friend Lauren supplemented my meager diet with the excess food at the end of the night from the diner she still worked at. Since the breakup, she'd taken it upon herself to stop by once or twice a week with a box of food that included day-old donuts, soon-to-be unsellable sandwiches, and some side dishes that had sat their limit of time in the refrigerated display case.
In the between times, I studied, wrote, and re-wrote three of my old movie scripts and finished one brand new one about a girl from a small farm in Montana who fell in love with a billionaire rock star. While the characters were unmistakably Liam and me, the way they met, fell in love had been drastically different, more plausible, as our experience had been too unbelievable even for a film. So, I wrote it the way I'd imagined it could have gone a million different times in my head, turning all the what-ifs into a best-case scenario package I'd hoped would make a few sappy movie watchers cry as the writing of it had me. But, while their most significant obstacles were obvious—a girl who knew nothing of and cared little for the limelight versus a monster of fame and fortune—at the end of my movie, love won out, tamed the savage beast into finding his heart, working out his shit.
Though the movie was a mix of truth and fantasy, the emotions I poured on the page were raw and real. Once finished, my labor of love completed and printed out for my best friend to read, the stars had finally aligned for me. Lauren had some fancy producer come into the diner. With the history and the upkeep, the restaurant gave the rich and famous something to talk about, a hip place to dine with a throwback to the old days, the original menu still served alongside weekly specials. As luck would have it, Lauren had my manuscript, had been reading it to critique, when she came off her break and waited on one of the better-known producers in the biz. She worked my manuscript into the conversation after he'd given a huge compliment to the meal and dessert, and he said he wanted to read it. According to Lauren, he came back four days later and wanted to meet me.
My family had wanted me back to the farm to celebrate the financing of my movie, but I wasn't ready to face the memories of the farm—of Liam and me on it. I'd written out my feelings in that script, and when he saw it on the big screen, he'd know how I felt about him, about our time together, as would the rest of the world. Writing the movie had taught me a lot about myself, allowed me to dig deep, to begin to heal the wounds losing David had cut, and to face up to the feelings Liam had sprung anew.
When I finished off the last of my popcorn and gummy bears, rinsed it down with my last gulp of wine, my stomach had grown queasy. I reached for my phone, brought up Liam's number, but failed to make my fingers dial. At some point, I'd have to tell him about the movie or have Cynthia tell Jake, but I couldn't bring myself to do it for now. I knew what I wanted. My heart, my body, they ached with memories of him, but I couldn't come up with the right words, the way to tell him what I'd felt when I'd no idea how he felt.
He'd launched a new album himself. And while I'd hoped I'd been the inspiration behind the good songs, I'd also prayed not to be the inspiration behind the ugly, rather angry ones. Though every news outlet had already assumed so for me. The song he'd written about me from last Christmas had made it on the album, too, but they'd long been beyond writing about that one anymore.
As I stood up on unsteady legs and made my way to the kitchen, I had to wonder what the past months had brought him. He kept any hint of women or a love life from the press. He turned all work, writing, recording, performing, nothing else from what I could glean from the press as we'd planned it, so no surprise there. No one ever wrote of him being drunk. No one ever wrote of him with another woman. Instead, they'd written of Isabelle's sudden marriage to a director named Luke, so she'd moved on from both Liam and Andrew.
Yet, I obsessed over the want of the truth. I wanted to know how he spent his free time and with whom. I wanted to know if he'd healed old wounds, let go of our failed plan, come to peace with where things stood between us. I wanted to know if he thought about me as often as I thought about him. I wanted to know if he wanted me as I yearned for him, his kiss, his touch, his subtle teasing. I just wanted…
I moved on too, in ways, to greater dreams, to an acceptance of my feeling for him, yet I didn't have a way to get back into the life of the man who stole my thoughts at night when I brought myself to a climax in my bed alone. I imagined his face as I rubbed my own swollen, throbbing folds. And yet, as my body responded, grew tense and then relaxed, I saw the dark scruff around his smile, the sparkle in his chocolate eyes. I swore, if I had smelled hay, I'd have burst into tears for want of the man. I couldn't deny it anymore. So, I'd thrown the bulk of the angst into my writing and had a lot to show for the effort.
As if she sensed across the miles that I needed her, my mother's picture showed up as my phone began to ring. Her sweet smile lit up her eyes, crinkled her nose against the backdrop of her warm kitchen. I wished I was with the rest of the family.
"Hey, mom," I said with the slurred, sullen voice of the drunk.
"Celebrating or just drinking?" She countered my greeting.
"Not celebrating," I stated, the truth a slice through my gut.
"Well, you should be! We are celebrating you here. We just toasted to you as a family," she said as she moved the phone, showing me my family, all seated around the table with their glasses raised.
"I'd raise mine, but it's already empty. But I love you all for celebrating my achievements."
"Do you need to talk? Privately?" my mom asked as she turned the phone back to just her face.
"No. I'm fine. While I wish I could have made it-"
"You can't yet handle being at the farm without Liam," my mother ended my sentence for me.
At one point, I'd confessed everything to my parents, from the scam marriage plan to the truth of my real feelings. They'd been nothing but supportive, as always. In the end, I'd made sure Liam hadn't been the villain of the story. I wanted them to still care for him as I did. Each had gotten to that point in their own time. Alex, toughest to tame, had finally given in, saw it my way, thanks in no small part to the constant pressure of my mother. They all called from time to time over the past year. Had lent their support, their well-meaning advice.
"We all agree here that you need to call him. You love him, Kylie. It may have started as a ruse, but what you found was that you needed each other in different ways, too. And we all liked him here, so call him, tell him how you feel, get him back," my mother demanded.
"Before Christmas," my father's voice came in loud and clear from the background. "I expect you guys both back here, in love for real, by Christmas, so we can all celebrate together."
"I don't know, dad. What if he doesn't feel the same way about me? It's been months since I spoke with him."
"But what if he does? Then you're both missing out on a lot of time you could've spent together. What do I always say, Kylie?"
"Life is short. Never take anything for granted. I think you're taking for granted your assumption that he cares about me at all. If I am wrong, it'll be humiliating."
"If I'm right, it'll be magical. Nothing is humiliating about being true to yourself, about telling the truth. If you try, you can't fail, right?"
"Can't I, dad?"
"Everything is going your way right now. Why not add in the guy?"
"Don't be stupid, Kylie," Charlie put in. "Just agree to call him so we can eat our pie. Besides, he's cool. I want him back for Christmas. I have a new video game I'm dying to beat him at."
"I'll see what I can do, Little Man," I promised him.
My mom gave me a tour of the pies I was missing out on. I had to admit, each slice Lauren had brought me from apple to pumpkin and everything in between the past weeks, none of them had held a candle to the smell and taste of my mother's. Made with love, she always said. I took in all the smiling faces, the talk of how juicy the turkey had been, the crocheted pumpkins made by my mom that sat as a centerpiece on the table. I could almost smell the spices, feel the heat, taste the pecan pie until tears blurred my vision as I said my goodbyes.
After letting the phone drop with a thump onto my empty table, no food, no decorations, no friends or family, not even a tablecloth to cover the old metal, I moved to the kitchen sink, hanging my head over the scratched surface. Then, with a heavy arm, I reached for the faucet and threw water on my face. I went through this process several times before I sighed and shut it off. Then as I patted my face dry with a stinky dish towel, I sank to the floor and took a long, hard look at my options for the millionth time.