Read Online Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie Trilogy) by Kimberly Stedronsky - Free Book Online
Authors: Kimberly Stedronsky
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now?”
I opened my mouth, balking, trying to find the right words before realizing that there were no words. “No… no I don’t,” I realized, trying bravely to meet his eyes. “I can’t expect that of you-”
“ Vivian,” he cut me off, his voice controlled and laden with ice. “You can sleep here tonight. Tomorrow, I want you gone.”
His words almost didn’t make sense to me.
This was Matthew, predictable, loyal, forgiving Matthew.
Matthew who I’d walked out on, had walked all over, and had hurt so much that I was beginning to hate myself.
The pa in in my chest caved in, consumed me, and I struggled for air. “ Gone? ” I whispered, pathetically, so fucking pathetically. I fought with the battling urges to protect myself and yet to give in to the heartbreaking finality of what was happening between us.
He stood, running his hand through his hair. “ You can stay with your parents. Or go back to him. It’s not up to me.”
“You hate me,” I cried, shaking my head, nausea brewing at the worst possible moment.
“No.” He stopped and turned at the doorway, his eyes focused on the ground. “I’m ending this before I hate you.”
He turned and left without another word.
. . .
I cried.
I cried for the past, for our son who we’d lost, and for all the ways that I’d hurt him.
I cried because he was right.
I’d kept him waiting, knowing all along, deep in my heart, that I’d already given in to Keaton.
Around two I got up to vomit, and I heard him come to the door.
“Are you okay?” he asked, so genuinely concerned, and my temper ignited.
“No, I’m not okay, just leave me alone,” I hissed, wiping at my mouth.
He turned and went back downstairs without another word.
It was nearly four by the time I flipped my tear-dampened pillow again, reaching for my phone.
Anxiety kicked in, and I crawled out of the bed, checking my text messages.
Nothing.
I didn’t want Keaton to know that Matthew was done with me… that we were over. I didn’t want Keaton to ever think that I’d chosen him by default, and I couldn’t fight the overwhelming urge to protect my own ego.
My first meeting with my new acting coach was at four the next day, which was good, since there was no way I’d be able to sleep knowing Matthew was lying downstairs on the couch hating me.
My suitcase was still mostly packed from the trip to LA; I began pulling my remaining clothes from their hangers, neatly folding them into piles on the bed.
Color coded, arranged by season.
I have no car. I’d been driving Gram’s Cadillac in Pennsylvania, and then Keaton drove us everywhere in the Ferrari. I considered calling for a taxi, but I had no idea where I was going.
“What are you doing?”
Matthew’s voice startled me. I glanced up at him once, continuing to pull my clothes from the drawers.
“I can’t stay here.”
“I said tomorrow-”
“Fuck you , it’s tomorrow!” I screamed, fighting back the reemergence of mortifying tears. “How in the hell do you expect me to sleep here after what you said? You want me gone, I’m gone,” I cried, struggling to close my suitcase.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses before sighing. “Please calm down. This isn’t good for the baby-”
“Don’t talk about the baby!” I shrieked, trying to wrangle my stampeding hormones. “You hate that it’s Keaton’s! Don’t try to act like you care one fucking bit about what happens to this baby!”
“Vivian,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I care. I care about you, and I care about that innocent baby. What is happening between us has nothing to do with how I feel about the baby. Do I hate that you slept with him? Yes, of course I hate that, I hate it so fucking much. Do I hate that you love him?” he fired. “Yes I hate it! Do I think for one minute that, baby or no baby, you’re ever going to feel the same way about me again? No.”
“How can I!? ” I raged. “You lied to
I opened my mouth, balking, trying to find the right words before realizing that there were no words. “No… no I don’t,” I realized, trying bravely to meet his eyes. “I can’t expect that of you-”
“ Vivian,” he cut me off, his voice controlled and laden with ice. “You can sleep here tonight. Tomorrow, I want you gone.”
His words almost didn’t make sense to me.
This was Matthew, predictable, loyal, forgiving Matthew.
Matthew who I’d walked out on, had walked all over, and had hurt so much that I was beginning to hate myself.
The pa in in my chest caved in, consumed me, and I struggled for air. “ Gone? ” I whispered, pathetically, so fucking pathetically. I fought with the battling urges to protect myself and yet to give in to the heartbreaking finality of what was happening between us.
He stood, running his hand through his hair. “ You can stay with your parents. Or go back to him. It’s not up to me.”
“You hate me,” I cried, shaking my head, nausea brewing at the worst possible moment.
“No.” He stopped and turned at the doorway, his eyes focused on the ground. “I’m ending this before I hate you.”
He turned and left without another word.
. . .
I cried.
I cried for the past, for our son who we’d lost, and for all the ways that I’d hurt him.
I cried because he was right.
I’d kept him waiting, knowing all along, deep in my heart, that I’d already given in to Keaton.
Around two I got up to vomit, and I heard him come to the door.
“Are you okay?” he asked, so genuinely concerned, and my temper ignited.
“No, I’m not okay, just leave me alone,” I hissed, wiping at my mouth.
He turned and went back downstairs without another word.
It was nearly four by the time I flipped my tear-dampened pillow again, reaching for my phone.
Anxiety kicked in, and I crawled out of the bed, checking my text messages.
Nothing.
I didn’t want Keaton to know that Matthew was done with me… that we were over. I didn’t want Keaton to ever think that I’d chosen him by default, and I couldn’t fight the overwhelming urge to protect my own ego.
My first meeting with my new acting coach was at four the next day, which was good, since there was no way I’d be able to sleep knowing Matthew was lying downstairs on the couch hating me.
My suitcase was still mostly packed from the trip to LA; I began pulling my remaining clothes from their hangers, neatly folding them into piles on the bed.
Color coded, arranged by season.
I have no car. I’d been driving Gram’s Cadillac in Pennsylvania, and then Keaton drove us everywhere in the Ferrari. I considered calling for a taxi, but I had no idea where I was going.
“What are you doing?”
Matthew’s voice startled me. I glanced up at him once, continuing to pull my clothes from the drawers.
“I can’t stay here.”
“I said tomorrow-”
“Fuck you , it’s tomorrow!” I screamed, fighting back the reemergence of mortifying tears. “How in the hell do you expect me to sleep here after what you said? You want me gone, I’m gone,” I cried, struggling to close my suitcase.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses before sighing. “Please calm down. This isn’t good for the baby-”
“Don’t talk about the baby!” I shrieked, trying to wrangle my stampeding hormones. “You hate that it’s Keaton’s! Don’t try to act like you care one fucking bit about what happens to this baby!”
“Vivian,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I care. I care about you, and I care about that innocent baby. What is happening between us has nothing to do with how I feel about the baby. Do I hate that you slept with him? Yes, of course I hate that, I hate it so fucking much. Do I hate that you love him?” he fired. “Yes I hate it! Do I think for one minute that, baby or no baby, you’re ever going to feel the same way about me again? No.”
“How can I!? ” I raged. “You lied to
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