The moment we get back home, Ethan takes it upon himself to install the painting frame up on top of the mantle. It takes him some time, but nothing is sweeter than him asking me to help him with the balance.
With the holidays over but New years to pass, Ethan has to go to work, and I back to stressing over how I haven't received an offer or an audition at least. Part of me suspects Ethan's stunt has made an intimidating impact on casting directors, but for the most part, I blame my lack of talent. The last movie did not make a big splash as I thought it would. Maybe being an actress was a mistake. Maybe being a trophy wife is a more suitable job.
At least you have a rich husband, Angelica says when I meet her the day after Christmas over a coffee. We exchange gifts and talk about the holidays. Although I had to delete a lot from my story. Like a lot.
"How is that supposed to make me feel better? That just means that I'm being chosen for my status and not my skills. As if having Ethan threatening everyone wasn't enough."
For New Year's Eve, Ethan and I decided to stay in and enjoy a home-cooked meal. I applaud Ethan for disregarding all the parties and celebrations in town just to enjoy our first new year together. I mean, come on, there are at least hundreds of parties in Hollywood. Many of them include important people.
At around six, he comes back, looking exhausted. But the minute he sees me standing by our portrait, he stops dead on his track. I thought I had put too much effort into getting dressed up for New Year Eve but seeing Ethan's reaction, I consider my effort well worth it.
"You look beautiful as always," he murmurs.
I grin, running my hands across my sides, cherishing the softness of the fabric sticking to my body. The red dress is tighter than any other than I owe. Not just that, the cleavage is extremely low. So low that I fear my nipple might pop out any time if I breathe deeper.
"Thank you." I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and smile at him shily.
Ethan stalks toward me with a predatory look. He extends his hand, gripped my elbow, and drags me to him. I crash to his chest. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he leans down to kiss me.
"Come on. I've made us dinner," I chuckle and step out of his embrace.
I've grown fond of our little conversations over meals. It's the only time we don't talk about our past, or future, or this thing between us. Instead, it's filled with our activities, stories that make each other laugh. It's one of the few times that makes me feel like we are a real couple.
Once finished with the meal, Ethan cleans the table while I retrieve our dessert. I cut us a piece of the store-bought tiramisu that I felt too tired to make myself. Ethan walks back into the dining room from the living room, holding something in his hand.
He sits down and silently places the familiar wooden pen box that I gave him for Christmas on the table. I gulp down the bite of tiramisu that suddenly tastes as tasteless as water and put down my spoon.
"Ethan," I breathe out his name with a tone of despair in my voice. Is that fear? Or nervousness? Perhaps it's excitement.
"Why didn't you tell me the night you gave this to me?" he asks with an even yet curious tone.
"I don't know. I was too nervous."
"About what?"
"About what you think of me." I refuse to meet his eyes, so I stare at the closed wooden box.
He opens it and turns it toward me. Inside the lid, on the blue cashmere fabric, is one single sentence written in gold ink.
I love you.
I stare at the words as if this is my first time seeing them. As if I didn't order the hand-scribbled note inside just five days before Christmas. As if I hadn't sat on the bed, staring at the box with oddly joyful trepidation. Of course, I had also ordered one without the line, just in case if I chickened out at the last minute. That night, it was either too dark for Ethan to notice the line, or he was distracted by the pen. But somehow, I'm grateful because I definitely wasn't ready then, just as I'm not now.
I was afraid of his rejection. Of this stretched silence between us now.
With summoned courage, I finally look up and find a pair of beautiful gray eyes staring at me.
"What I think of you is this." He leans forward and kisses me. One hand on my cheek, he both drags me closer to him and caresses my skin.
His other hand is busy snaking around my waist and pulling me out of my chair onto his lap. I giggle when his chair's closeness to the table prevents me from sliding between his body and the table.
Frustrated, he pushes his chair back with a loud, screeching noise. He lifts me on the table with a grunt, knocking the pen and its box out of the table to the floor.
"Leave it." He attacks my lips again hungrily.
Breathlessly he puts both hands on my cheeks and stares at me as he breaks the kiss. "I love you too."
I stop panting. Stop breathing. And I think my heart follows suit. I dig my nail into the pad of my forefinger to see if I'm sleeping. Stinging pain. This isn't a dream.
"You do?" I find myself asking as if not sure if I had imagined the world.
"I do. Very much. Since..."
I jump to the opportunity when he trails off his words. Putting my hands on his shoulder to distance myself for a better look at his face, I quirk an eyebrow. "Since when?"
He inhales. "Since the honeymoon. I've been just too scared to admit it before. Sure, I knew I was attracted to you since high school, but I always thought it was just desire that would be extinguished after sex. I thought I could get you out of my system. I was wrong because the more I got to see you, the more I got to know beyond your beautiful face and hot body, the more I started feeling these emotions."
Ethan's confession shocked me, primarily because I assumed when he said he wanted to ask me out, it was out of having feelings, not carnal desire. I looked back to our honeymoon and what transpired. Of course, in my mind, everything is blurred with raw emotions that I can't depict what led to what happened other than feeling genuinely blessed and thoroughly ravished. And desiring him. And falling more.
"Everything changed then. I couldn't keep my hands off you or my mind from you. You were there in my mind, in my heart, and I've been just too scared to admit it."
"I love you," I repeat, trying to decrease his guilt.
But I wait. I wait for him to say something. More. To address the big elephant in the room. The contract. The marriage agreement. But he doesn't.
We make love. Sweet passionate and then rough love just as the sound of fireworks echoes outside and the sky fills with all color somewhere off the distance. We hold onto each other, still breathing hard from the exertion, but he doesn't say anything.
"Mom has been pestering me." Ethan sighs. "I think she's been expecting us to turn up for Christmas with your belly swollen." He runs his hand up and down on my arm.
"She didn't say anything to me."
"That's because she has had her fill with condescending talk with me. Did you know she had brought you maternity clothes and baby stuff for our Christmas?" He scoffs.
"You're kidding?" I sat up to look at him even though the room's darkness gave nothing away except his silhouette. "Is that why she was emphasizing that the portrait is more for her than for us?"
"Yeah," he chuckles.
"Wow." I drop back on the bed. Ethan doesn't hesitate a moment and pulls me back to his embrace. "I mean, how would it be possible? We've been married for four months now." I shake my head.
"Five," he corrects me.
I turned my head and felt his breath blowing on my cheek gently with each breathe. Ethan surprises me. I can't tell if his keeping track of our married days is a good thing or not. There's a voice that says maybe he's counting the days until it's over.
A week of excitement passes. Ethan and I spend almost every night living celebrity night out in famous restaurants and house parties. Golden Globes and Oscars will soon be hosting, and Hollywood is buzzing with exciting news for nominees and presenters. Our news of marriage and Ethan's recent success has made us presenters, a privilege that not every actor in my experience and years, or lack thereof, doesn't get too many often.
Amidst the exciting news, I receive the best next thing. An email from a famous agency in LA asking me if I'm interested in a role for a series. Things are just turning up good.
"This is for a British studio, up in London. They're looking for someone American for a leading role in a romantic thriller genre. It's based on a novel," the agent explains when I meet him first thing on Monday.
"London?" I arch an eyebrow. My heart stops.
"Yes, they've done a pilot with another actress, but she dropped due to unforeseen circumstances. The studio didn't seem to like her much either. So, we're starting over."
Unable to concentrate on anything past the word 'London.' I nod my head absently. "How long would it be?"
"Approximately five months. Of course, they're restarting everything in a month, so six from now." The man intertwined his fingers and placed them in front of him on his desk.
"Six months?" I swallow. I would be gone for the rest of the marriage contract then.
"Is there a problem?" The directing cast says, cocking his head to one side. I sap out of my thoughts and blink at him.
"no, I'm sorry. I was just thinking about my own schedule."
"Well, how about this? You go home and think about it and let us know. How does the end of the sound?" he arches his eyebrow. "They really want to make this work with you."
"I'm flattered. Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you."
I don't go home straight away after the appointment. Instead, I spent the rest of the morning and the majority of the afternoon in a café, sitting in the very far back. A random book sits next to the untouched coffee cup and two empty plates that once had croissants on them.
"Hey, I came as soon as I saw your call," Angelica says, throwing her bag on the other empty chair and occupying the chair to my left. "Sorry, I've been hooked up in this college seminar. I've been trying to get this art of mine..." she trails off unfinished.
I don't even notice she's stopped mid-speaking until the silence becomes too uncomfortable. I snap out of my haze and shake my head.
"I'm sorry. What were you saying?"
"I can see what I said is not as important as whatever-she waves her hands around in circles-is going on here."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be an insensitive friend. Of course. Tell me about your seminar. How did it go?"
"It's not important now. Tell me. What's wrong?" She pushes away the cold coffee and plates to the side and gets closer to me. "Evelyn, you're scaring me."
"Oh, no, don't worry. It's nothing important. In fact, I have great news. The audition went well. They offered the role."
I watch as Angelic's brown eyes enlarge with excitement. "Oh my god. Thank god, finally. This is amazing." Her smile falls when she notices that I don't share the supposed happiness that I should be feeling.
She is right. It is a fantastic opportunity. So much that it makes me wonder if Ethan had any influence on it. A role offer like that is very unlikely, especially for someone in my position with few screen opportunities.
"-Evelyn?" Angelic's louder-than-usual voice snaps me out of my strand once more. I rub my hands over my face, uncaring how my mascara will be smeared over my face.
"I'm sorry." I sigh and sit back in my chair.
"Oh, sister, what are you sorry for?" She puts a hand on my arm and rubs gently.
"It's just... I can't accept it."
"The contract?" She raises an eyebrow. I nod my head silently. "I thought you two were doing so well. You were practically all over each other when I saw you at the party the other night. What happened?"
"We've never talked about it. Not since the honeymoon." I cross my arms over my chest and frown. "I don't even know how to approach him with this. Say what? Oh hey, Ethan, I know we said we love each other and all, but what about the fucking agreement that is still shadowing us around?"
"Evelyn, come on. We both know the only reason you haven't approached him is fear. If he hasn't shredded the paper yet, it means something." She reaches across and grabs my hands in hers, destroying my defensive shield. "You have to stop running away."
"So, don't accept the role and stay?"
Angelic gives me a look and scoffs, "you know that's not what I meant."
To avoid her eyes, I grab the cold coffee cup and take a sip, flinching at the taste.
"The real question you need to ask is what you will do after? Would you rather stay and count the days until this dreamland crushes or be miles away? Would a few more days change the fact that what you have now expires soon?"
Angelic gives me a lot to think about. So much that I don't even notice Ethan coming home that night, let alone remembering how I make it back to the mansion. He snakes his arms around my back and draws me close to his body. Seductively, he lowers his head until his lips touch mine. At night, I stay awake in bed, long after our lovemaking, thinking about how I could approach this... thing between us. My only consolation is I get to use the next two days while Ethan is gone on a business trip to think it through.
In the morning, I wake up to a handwritten note, brightening my morning.
Dear Evelyn,
I'll miss you terribly in the next two days. But I couldn't bring myself to wake up for one last kiss. I promise to make it up to you once I get back.
PS. I lied. I stole a kiss when you were asleep.
Love,
Ethan.
Love. A single word written so easily as if he didn't have to think twice about it. As if the word came easy to him because that's all he could think. I hug the letter and flip back on the bed to continue my sleep.
Two days pass quickly. I wake up to a peaceful morning, a grin on my lips, just thinking about seeing Ethan soon by noon. I took the time alone to think and gather enough courage to approach the unavoidable. What I haven't given much thought about is the project. Even if everything goes smoothly between us, I don't think I can leave for five months. If our two days apart is an indication, I will miss him dearly and most likely will give up in the middle of the shooting.
After enjoying a cup of coffee on the terrace, staring at the ocean and an unreachable point in the distance where the sky suddenly becomes the sea, and the sea becomes sky, I walk back to the house, ready to shower and dress my sexiest for Ethan. That's when I hear my phone beeping from the nightstand. It's not a text or two. It becomes a series of texts and notifications. Then it starts vibrating, and the screen lights up with an unknown number.
I let it go to voice mail before grabbing my phone.
Everything stops.
The beeping and vibrating of the phone. The bright sunlight illuminating the room. The chirping of the birds in the background. My breathing. My heart. Articles after articles. Pictures. Videos. Large big words.
'Ethan Kingstone caught leaving ex-girlfriend's house in the morning.'
'the marriage is a sham. Lorena opens up about her relationship with Ethan and his marriage to mediocre actress Evelyn Kingston, then Campbell.'
'Ethan Kingstone spent the night at his ex. Cheating, or is it an open marriage?"
'Ethan Kingstone leaves Lorena Winslet after kissing her.'
'Hollywood affairs in the air. Ethan Kingstone caught kissing his ex.'