There is nothing better than a good break, paid off after dragging long shooting. Waking up late in the morning and rolling in bed is my usual thing these days. But then again, as soon as my brain starts working and the event of the night before comes to my mind, I start getting depressed and somehow a hazy cloud of unknown feeling overcomes me.
I lazily reach for my phone on the nightstand. Opening a new tab, I hesitate and wonder if I really want to know what the media talks about us. In the end, after staring at the Google's search engine, I give up. What else is there to know that I don't already know about last night?
I am just about to clean up my late breakfast when my phone starts ringing. Picking up the phone, I recognize the caller ID,
"Hello?" I answer the phone, sort of surprise to see mom calling me at this hour of the morning.
"Evelyn, darling. How are you? I called earlier but you didn't answer me,"
"Hi, mom. Yeah, I was having a lazy day. Last night was just... long and boring."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear about that. Sweetie, you should pay more attention to yourself. Have you eaten your vitamins and Iron?" she asks, her nursing senses kicking in.
"I am, mom. Don't worry about me."
"I'm glad," she replies, "So how's everything? I saw your pictures from last night. I see you and Ethan have started publicizing yourselves,"
"We are. He didn't object to me attending the gala with him, which is a great surprise."
"Honey, is everything ok with you two?" she asks, "I still cannot believe your father did this. I am so sorry, Eve. I wish I could do something-
"Mom," I call, trying to interrupt her.
"But I can't sleep at night. I don't want this life for you. I don't want to force you into marriage and I do not agree with your father."
"Mom, please don't. I just... it's ok. We can get through this. Believe me, I don't want this either, but it's not like we have any other choice," I sigh, grabbing a pen in my hand and play around with it.
"I just... I want to see you. I'd like to talk to you. Woman to woman. That's the least I can do. So, what do you say to come home, maybe tomorrow and we'll have dinner?" she suggests.
"That would be amazing, only tomorrow night I'm seeing Ethan," I press my lips together at the sound of that. "You know as a part of being seen in public," I find myself explaining further,
"Ok, then we can do it, tonight. I hope you don't have to be somewhere."
"No," I laugh at how formal she sounds, "tonight sounds great. I'll see you guys tonight,"
"Sure thing. Thanks, honey," she says happily. It's so easy to make her happy.
"Oh and mom... I love you, guys and I'll do anything for you. I just wanted to let you know,"
"I know, honey. I love you too,"
We say our goodbyes and finally hang up. When I look down at the pad, which I have been absently writing about while I was talking to my mother, I find a series of thoughts.
Ethan≠ Marriage.
Angrily, I crumple the paper and throw it in the bin.
I just have to figure out a way to pass this year and stay myself. Wallowing up in my misery sounds like a great plan, but then again that is my only choice.
I don't receive any phone call or text from Ethan until the time, I decide I should get ready if I want to make it home by six on a Friday night. There is this oddness on Friday nights that I do not understand yet I sometimes happen to fall into the stereotype. What is it with people suddenly having enough energy to go out and party after a long week of work? Don't you want to go home and just get a good night's sleep without worrying about tomorrow?
Wearing minimal makeup in fear I may be caught by paparazzi's, I travel my way down to my parking lot and get in the car.
I am still very much annoyed at the fact that Ethan is effectively ignoring me. This not only points out that his sorry *ss is not after all so sorry, but also that I am in too deep.
Steering through the jammed traffic, I finally find myself before our gates and minutes after before our small mansion. By refereeing to it as small, it is, by all means, larger than any house in our area. It certainly is smaller than most Hollywood mansions, most especially Ethan's and his parents'.
"Oh, my god, look who's here. Yes, finally," Jesse shouts at the top of the stairs and runs down. Wearing her comfortable shorts and a T-shirt that read 'I ain't calm down', Jesse looks like a typical teenage girl and if she was just as interested in movies, she would have slammed a role in a teenage movie or series.
"Hey," I open my arms and embrace her. Gosh, I have missed her.
"I'm so glad you're here. Mom said she'll be here shortly," she explains as we walk the stair to the front door,
"How about dad?" I ask as I put my bag on the front table and walk in,
"I don't think he'll come until late night," she presses her lips into a pout and shakes her head, "the company has him wrapped around its fingers. He's been working hard in the office, trying to keep it alive."
I gulp.
"When are you getting married?" she asks as she settles on the sofa and urges me to sit next to her,
"It seems not so long from now," I sadly smile. My fate is coming at me faster than I thought.
"Well, you know what?" Jesse breaks my thoughts. I snap my eyes back to her, "we are going to throw an amazing bachelorette party for you," she says.
I look at her oddly, my brain completely freezes and stops working, not because of what she said, but because of the sudden realization that I'll be married to Ethan less than three weeks.
I don't know why this fact is still startling or surprising. I should be used to the idea since that's the only way to save my family and seeing that I will do anything in my power, I am still not comfortable with this.
"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate. We shouldn't be doing that. I mean it's not like you're happy about it-
"No, no, it's ok. I love this idea. Yeah, let's do that." I smile at her. A bright and wide smile covers her face. Her eyes look glossy with happiness. "But no underage girls other than you please." I continue, "We can't control them when it's loud and crazy."
"Yes, got it." She nods duly.
I smile at her carefreeness and easiness. To be young and teenager again. She is absolutely no idea how cruel and nasty this world is.
Mom finally arrives and we help her cook some delicious recipe she has gotten from one of her patients who was fighting off cancer. It was beautiful to see my family and me playing around in the kitchen and having fun. It's been a long time since I had this much fun. However, my father's absence makes this a bit empty.
"Hey, Eve, let's go upstairs to our room." Mom calls me as I am washing the dishes with Jesse.
"Sure," I reply and watch her disappear with wine glasses in her hand, "you've got this?" I ask Jesse who only nods. Patting her on the shoulder, I walk past her and pursue my mother.
Entering their bedroom, I look around and discover my mother sitting on the bed. Seeing me, she pats the spot next to her on the bed and asks me to sit down.
"So you wanted to talk to me?" I ask awkwardly as minutes of silence pass between us with her looking down at her feet.
"I just... wanted to make sure that it is what you want. I don't want to force anything on you. We don't want that. Has Ethan been good to you? I want to know how he's taking this and whether he's been good to you." she takes a few sips of her wine before putting on the nightstand, "I'm not stupid. I know the situation we are in makes you vulnerable and puts him higher than you. I'm just worried about you, you know."
"Aww, mom. Everything is fine. Ethan is very good to know. We've been good to each other. You know, going on dates and being like normal couples. Things are good for us, don't worry," I lie through my teeth. Grabbing her hand, I hope she wouldn't see right through me.
"We all know Ethan, Eve. I know how..." she searches for the right word, "ruthless he could be. I'm worried about you. What if you find yourself in a miserable marriage? I don't want that for you. Marrying him is one thing. Having to be his wife and... and tolerating him is the other thing."
I stare at her, wondering what I should answer. Should I be taking Ethan side's even though it's illogical to be defending him when the truth is against him. But then again that would only make my mother feel worse.
"Everything will be fine. I want you and father to forget about this. Ok? I've got this."
Just at that second, the door opens and I expect to see Jesse walking in, instead, I see Dad's exhausted and defenseless form appearing on the threshold. He has taken off his coat and draped it over his forearm with his bag in the other hand. Lines of distress have wrinkled his forehead and he looks as if he hasn't shaved for a long time.
"Dad," I murmur and I stand up and hug him. I haven't realized how much I have missed my family until now.
"Evelyn, my dear girl," he embraces me back, dropping his stuff on the floor. "Is everything ok?" he puts me on the arm length to look at me.
"Everything is fine. Great."I force a smile. Looking at my parents and how lovingly they look at each other as my father's eyes are cast down on my mother; I feel a pang of jealousy. Of course, I could never have that. I could never have Ethan look at me like that.
That night, when I say my goodbyes to them and leave them, I realize something that I have been ignoring for so long.
I have never had anyone look at me like the way my father looks at my mother or Ethan parents do or Ethan does to Lorena. I didn't have that with Chris either. Knowing Ethan prefers every other woman over me hurts. Knowing no one has wanted me for who I am, hurts. Things will always be the same, I will always be the other girl in someone's life or the woman who is just there for fun.
I suck back the tears and prevent them from slipping more than they already have.
I open the door and reveal Ethan standing on my doorstep. A day after meeting with my parents and it's already the night where we are going to romanticize the crowd like two puppets. And one night before the night he's going to propose. Of course, I should have that quoted because Ethan doesn't propose, at least not to me.
"Hi." Ethan smiles.
"Hi," I look indifferent as I open the door wider, "would you like to come in?" I ask. Show no feelings. Be like him. Be an actress.
"Sure." He walks and stands in my living room like he doesn't belong there with his six-foot tall and huge figure. One would think he could crush one's body with one easy hug. "Listen, I'm sorry about-
"It's ok. You don't need to explain it to me. I've already told you. It's not my place to judge or say anything to that. Besides, it was part of the agreement. If anything, I should get used to it."
"You make it sound so cruel," he huffs,
'That's because it is. What do you expect of me? To thank you for that? Or say congratulations?" I snap suddenly. Frustrated that we are already fighting and we haven't made it out of the door, I grab my clutch and start walking to the door,
"Evelyn, you act like you don't care if I go ahead and have affairs in front of your eyes," he bites back. I stop on my spot. My throat starts burning. I have to gulp in order to maintain my control. "That's not like you,"
"I'm glad you have at least remembered that about me. But you have also forgotten many things. Things like I also have feelings and I also get hurt when someone keeps ignoring me." shut up. Close your mouth, you're ruining everything.
"Evenly," he calls but I hold my hands up in front of me,
"just stop. Ok. Just... do what you want to do and keep ignoring me. That's what you're good at." Sh*t! I shouldn' have said that. That not only makes vulnerable in his eyes but also offends him. Well, crap, I hope he's not offended. Not really.
He opens his mouth to say something but soon he closes it with a deep frown narrowing his eyebrows. Of course, he doesn't have anything to say to that.
"I'm ready if you are," I announce.
To tell truth, I feel a bit light after my confession. It's as if a heavy weight is lifted off my shoulders. Like I can feel my heart slowing down because the downhill is over.
Ethan doesn't speak a work and follows me as we exit my apartment and I close the door after us. Just as I expected, he has a driver to drive us around the city. When the driver opens the door for us, I nod at him. I feel kind of sorry and ashamed that I still don't know his name. Afterall this could be our driver when we get married.
There is a peculiar sense in the word "our". Of course, I am not informal with it, after all, Chris and I had been sharing things just as well, however, our means different when it comes to Ethan and I. It's a void, just as I would always say.
Just as we settle in the car, with a good distance between Ethan and I that could be filled with millions of thoughts and sentiments, I decide to ask the drivers his name,
"It's Liam, ma'am." He answers. "Liam Jones,"
"It's very nice to meet you, Liam Jones." I smile back at him in the rear mirror. Liam looks about forty, though his hair is black as night and one could easily tell he has combat training from the way he carries himself. "So tell me about yourself, Liam? Can I call you Liam?"
"Yes, Ma'am." He looks at Ethan momentary who's eyes are solely outside as if he has blocked us out already. "Well," he answers, looking straight to the road, "I have a son. His name is Tony and he's ten years old. And I have been happily married to my second wife, Rhea for about four years now."
"Aw. That's great, Liam. I should like to meet your wife." I say.
"Of course, ma'am. If it's ok with Mr. Kingstone," he takes his eyes off the road and takes a look at Ethan through the mirror. Ethan, who apparently is taken off his dream upon hearing his name snaps his head toward him and then at me, obviously clueless.
"I'm sure he doesn't mind," I answer instead of him. "Oh, and you may call me Eve," I respond back and watch as Ethan glares at me.
Asking people calling me by my nickname is considered a privilege, which means I would like to get the familiarities eliminated between us. A privilege that I have deprived of Ethan, which certainly he deserves because he has not earned it.
We finally arrive at a luxurious restaurant, which screams wealth. Of course, as a family, mine would go to these types of restaurant, once a week or so, just to keep the public happy and even so when I became my own person, I still had to attend parties and group dates of sorts in these types of restaurant, but to get used to it or liking the habit was never part of my life.
The whole trip to the restaurant and inside, until the moment we have to face the audience, Ethan does not speak a word which might be a good thing on my part. This way I don't have to open my mouth and speak out of order. My thoughts and feelings were supposed to be kept inside me, except I haven't planned on exploding after holding back for so long.
This time instead of standing and posing, we straight out way to the restaurant where a host is standing and ushering the guests inside. Just before we arrive there, in the view of the media, who were "informed" we were having dinner at this restaurant, Ethan leans in. His lips brush my earlobe and sweet shiver is sent down my spine that I can feel my skin plucking to the rhythm of it.
"Laugh. Let them think I'm saying something funny," he whispers in my ear. The warmth of his breath caressing my skin.
I gulp before getting into action and break into a smile and soon in a light giggle. Satisfied, Ethan leans back and looks down and smiles. How unfair could he be? While I'm being tortured over here, battling my feelings and logic, he's standing there carefree.
To make the things spicy, I lean into him and grab his jacket, resting my forehead on his chest, still pretending I'm laughing. My action stuns me. I'm not sure if I did it to play my part or used this as an excuse to get closer to him. Yes, as much as desperate as it sounds, I learn that a part of me does want that closeness to him.
Ethan, however, gets tense, not expecting my move. I withdraw, looking up at him with a smile. Although he has his smirk on his face, I can sense his "what the f*ck?".
You're a stupid, delusional woman. What do you expect? What do you think you can gain?
I talk to myself.
The host gathers Ethan's name and asks us to follow him, once inside the restaurant, far from the media, I let my muscles rest and only offer curled lips to the diners whose attention are on us.
With Ethan's hand behind my back, we find out table and sit down. Ethan doesn't look across and I curse myself for making this more awkward for the second time in the row in one night. Way to start this relationship smooth.
"What would you like to have Mr. Kingstone? Ma'am?" the waiter asks. I notice that he recognizes Ethan, but not me, which means he comes here often. With Lorena perhaps.
"I would have Scollaps and your chef's recommendation on a side dish." He gives the menu back to the tall waiter.
"Ma'am?" he turns to me,
"Well, um... I don't know. What do you recommend?" I ask him, tilting my head up so I can get a view of him,
"I'm sorry ma'am but I'm afraid my choice will not be obliging enough for you. How about I ask the chef for a surprise dish for ma'am?" he asks,
"That would amazing. Thanks," I give him the menu, "just nothing spicy,"
"Noted," he smiles.
"We need drinks also," Ethan speaks up all of a sudden. We both turn to him. Clenching his jaw, he looks at the man angrily and raises his eyebrow as in waiting to be asked. I notice his hand on the table fisted.
"Yes, of course. The usual?"
"If you could please," Ethan mocks him.
The waiter, the minute he senses the foulness in the way Ethan speaks, scrambles to get the orders. The minute he's gone, Ethan reaches into his pocket and takes out a round blue jewelry box. I look down at it as he places it in front of me. The gift, right.
"Oh my god. What is this?" I ask him gingerly, pretending that I'm surprised.
"A gift for you," he smiles. His eyes warm and his smile sweet, only it's all actions and pretense.
"You shouldn't have done that." I smile at him. Reaching for the box, I open and reveal a white gold bracelet with blue sapphires decorating around the round shaped circlet. It's twinking under the light of the restaurant obviously catching some curious eyes around the restaurant, which I assume are all part of the façade. "It's beautiful," I say, sincerely, not out of necessity.
"For a beautiful woman," he says. I look up at him.
It's hard not to fall for him, especially as he's giving me the dream I've always wanted to have. And even if I tell myself it's all fake, I could still not look at him and not feel as if I'm being noticed finally.
One would say it's a paradise to have your delicious dream of being swept off your feet come true, but in reality, it's a nightmare. It's a torture. It's not even real.
"Thank you. Can you help me put it on?" I hold my wrist up and smile.
"Of course." He replies, reaching for the bracelet and taking it out of the box, rounding it around my wrist, avoiding my skin and fastening the clip.
I put my hand on the table, admiring the way it looks on me.
"Lean in," he whispers. Leaning on his side, Ethan gets closer to me. I lean in just as he did.
With one swift move, he puts his mouth on the corner of my mouth, not meeting my mouth and barely grazing my skin. I understand then that he's offering a Hollywood kiss. That is how some kiss their co-worker if they do not want to indulge in anything sexual. Mostly those who are in a serious relationship or a marriage do so, but since the audience wants a panty dropper kiss, something that would ignite fire and flames, it has become something of an old fashion.
Lingering his mouth long enough for our audience to notice, he soon however withdraws. Half surprised and half disappointed, I wear a mask of a happy woman who has just received a sexy and melting kiss from her lover.
Putting his hand on mine, which is resting on the table with the elegant bracelet rounding my wrist, he grins.
"Thank you. Genuinely. It really looks beautiful." I murmur, hoping I get his attention and let him know this from the bottom of my heart, not just acting like a happy couple.
"You're welcome," he only replies.
On the cue, the waiter arrives back with a tray of two glasses and a green bottle of wine.
"Sir, ma'am, your drinks," the waiter says politely, somehow wary around Ethan. Putting the glasses before us, he starts pouring the glasses and takes his leave immediately after.
During the dinner, we barely talk except a few words for the sake of filling the void and awkwardness. Per usual, Ethan doesn't order dessert and I sit before him, enjoying my caramel mousse and sponge as he watches me. I bet he's never used to women eating sweets on dates, or anytime. I know for a fact that Lorena has a restrict diet since she's a model.
When we finally settle in the car and leave the media behind, I feel myself easing back. I have started to grasp what this relationship is all about. It's a romantic act played in the theater. The only difference is my heart being played too. I never get nervous when I'm acting or start confusing my own feelings in the matter; however, it's a completely new story with Ethan. This is the man I've dreamt and liked for so long.
"I've thought it would be best for if you spend your night at my place. It's best for our image," Ethan says, still looking out. I don't know why he feels the need to smack the fact that this is all for our image to my face every time he states something. I get it, Gosh, move on!
Not really.
"Am I stay for the whole night?" I ask not believing he's offering such deal. Usually, Ethan is considered as a one-night stand man, and to offering me to stay with him for the night is taking him a great deal, but then I remember the ugly facts about us.
We'll never sleep with each other. He'll never expect me to be his actual wife and most certainly, we'll never consummate the marriage, which in the eye of the law is actually nulled. Much easier to get a divorced on that.
"Yes. If they think we have spent the night with each other just the night before you come out with a ring on your finger, it draws more attention and is more acceptable." He says. "God, I hate it when we have to dance to their jazz and make them satisfied. Sometimes, I ask myself what kind of life is this," he continues and I realize he's talking about something other than our deal and something about himself.
"I agree,"
Until the moment we arrive at his place, none of us say a word. Liam opens the door and bids us goodbye before taking off.
"The staff is usually off on the weekend, but they work three days a week, so you might see them more often. I'll make the introduction later." He opens the door and ushers me in.
For the first time since we have officially rekindled, I feel nervous being alone with and not just being alone, but having to spend the night in the same house as he. Why am all of a sudden acting like a teenager? I'm a grown woman who can control her feelings and emotions and be what is expected to be.
"So do you want to retire to bed or would care to join me for a drink?" he asks as he tosses his keys and takes off his blazer.
"I think I would like a drink?" I reply, raking my hair with my fingers and freeing them of the clips.
He nods and walks toward his luxurious tray of liquor, "the next couple of days are going to be really tough. We've been just playing around. The true hit will come after we announce our engagement. Are you ready for that?" he asks, giving me one glass of heavy whiskey.
"I... don't think so. I don't think I'll ever be," I reply, resting my body against the sofa's arm,
"Well, me neither. Cheers," he pushes his glass forward. I click mine to him and take a swift swing of it, welcoming the numbing bitterness to my system. Licking his lips, he continues, "I have a few sets of night dresses for guests. I hope they will be accommodating well. I'll send my assistant tomorrow to your apartment first thing in the morning to retrieve a bag for you. I think. It would better if you start moving. If that's ok with you," he says.
I chuckle, taking a deep breath, looking at the ceiling, "you're really kind, you know. At least you're not throwing everything in my face and making demands." I snort laugh. "I think if I go get my stuff, it would better, though I would appreciate a bag of clothing." I finish my drink and walk to the kitchen to put it on in the sink.
"Let me show you to your room?" Ethan sounds behind me,
"Sure," I respond before following him blindly.
On the second floor, there is a whole new world. A long foyer leading to different sets of bedrooms and a living room with sofas and a sitting area that would join the bedrooms.
"This staircase is the main staircase that leads to the living room and the front door. There is one at the end of this way," he points to his left. "That one leads to the garden and this," he points to a french door, "is the balcony which has a private tub for the Jacuzzi. Gym and playroom are downstairs, by the way. Come along," he says, walking toward the left hand, "this is the guests' apartments. I only have three bedrooms in here. The other side is the rest of the bedrooms including the master bedroom. Anyways, I'll you a full tour tomorrow. So which bedroom you'd like to pick?" he asks,
"I think it would be best if I stayed in one of the guest bedrooms," I offer a small smile before going to one of the guests' bedrooms and open the door on the first one. Inside, it looks like a typical hotel room; a bed and a TV with a closet on the side. That'll do.
"Evelyn," Ethan grabs hold of my forearm before I could step in. Turning to face him, I seek his face. "I know you must think I hate you, even though I've told you many times before that it's not I feel. I don't hate you. How can I hate you? And I'm sorry if I've ever you feel... unwanted. It's just... I can't... I should..."
"It's ok," I save him from himself. "I know you want to say. I've already told you, Ethan. I entered this deal of ours knowingly. I signed on the dotted line, knowing what I was entering. I get that you love someone else and sometimes I envy that you have someone to go back to. I envy that you have everything you want and I am the last person you want to deal with. I thank you for doing this. Thank you for saving my family. Thank you for not hating me, but I can never ignore how I feel and how everything is going to be once we're married.
"I try to tell myself that you and I have nothing and this marriage is only an obligation to be fulfilled, but every time I end up thinking that this marriage will only make me miserable. You'll be fine. You're everything you want out of this. You'll have your girlfriend and your company. But what do I have?" I suddenly sense the tears gathering in my eyes and the tightness in my throat. "But I accepted it all for the sake of my family and I endure it if I have to."
"I'm sorry," he says out of nowhere,
"I'm sorry too," I reply before closing the door and putting a barrier between us.