“Vivienne, what's going on?” I asked.
“You been out busting drug dealers?” she said, her voice cold and harsh, the sarcasm bitingly evident.
“Well, yes, kind of. What are you doing?”
“I'm leaving! I'm going to stay with my friend, Angie! Jane is still asleep, I just checked on her a couple of minutes ago.”
“B- but... why?” I stammered, totally confused.
“Don't act so innocent!” she snapped. “I'm not stupid! I saw the message on your phone! Go wrap your damn arms around Liza, whoever that is, because I don't ever want them around me again, you lying bastard! Goodbye!”
The woman—Angie—shot me a venomous glare and floored her accelerator, throwing gravel as she sped out of my driveway, screeching tires and leaving me standing in a tornado of confusion, shock, and dust.
It hit me like a ton of bricks; Vivienne had seen the message Liza had sent me. I couldn't believe how terrible the timing had been – it had to have come through right when I had gotten up to get my truck keys and my pistol. And, of course, she had no idea about the context of the message, and that, of course, was my fault. I should have told her right away about who the specialist who had seen to Jane was. I should have opened up about my past, about Liza and what she had put me through.
But I hadn't – I had tried to keep it a secret, even though I knew nothing was going to happen between Liza and me. And now I was paying the price for it. I immediately got out my phone and dialed Vivienne, wanting to explain everything, but her number just rang and rang until it went to voicemail.
I tried again, but she had turned her phone off. I knew her friend’s name was Angie, but I didn't know her last name. Besides, it was Sunday night, and I was pretty tired after everything that had happened. I knew I had to explain everything to Vivienne – saving our relationship was important – but I also knew that, realistically speaking, there wasn't really much I could do about it now. She wasn’t going to answer my calls, and I couldn’t just leave the house and take off down the road after her.
I trudged inside and closed the door, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. The house immediately felt way more empty now that Vivienne was
no longer in it. If there had been any doubt before, I knew right then that I had to do absolutely everything I could to get her back.
But right now, I also knew that she was probably mad and hurt, so to try to explain anything to her at this point would likely fall on deaf ears, and may well do more damage than good. As painful as it was, I figured that the best option at this point would be to just let her sleep it off, and talk in the morning when things had cooled down a bit. Perhaps then she would be open to more rational and reasonable discussion; she certainly would not be open to such things right now.
I walked over to Jane's room with a heavy heart and looked through the door after opening it a crack. She was sleeping peacefully and looking calm and angelic.
“At least I still have you, sweet pea,” I whispered.
With that, I plodded to my bathroom where I brushed my teeth unenthusiastically, then headed to my bedroom, got undressed and went to bed. It seemed as though it took forever to fall asleep.
Chapter Thirty-One
Vivienne
I turned and looked over my shoulder as we drove away, staring at Everett as he stood on the pavement, looking shocked and hurt. And I was crying now; even though I knew he was a cheater, it had been really hard to leave him, to walk out like that. Part of me had wanted to simply forgive him, to let it all go, to just forget about it and jump into his arms... but I knew that I couldn't live like that, not now that I knew what he had done. This had hurt, but it was something that I had to do.
“Thank you, Angie,” I said. “I really appreciate this. I honestly do. You're such a good friend.”
“Aw, there's no need to thank me, Vivienne,” she said. “I'm sure you'd do the same thing for me. Now come on, I've got a bottle or two of red wine at home. That'll help you to feel better, I'm sure. And you're the owner of your daycare, right? Why don't you call them and say that you won’t be coming in tomorrow morning? You don't need the stress of work on top of all of this.”
I thought about that for a while and figured that it might be good to take a little time off work. After all, Graciela could be trusted to run the place on her own for one day.
“Alright, sure, I'll do that,” I said. “Let's just have a good time tonight, and then I can at least forget for a little while about what's happened.”
“Good decision,” she commented with a smile.
I called up Graciela and let her know that I wouldn't be coming to work the next day, and she seemed fine with that. After a few minutes, we arrived at Angie's apartment building. She drove into the parking lot and parked, and then we took an elevator up to the fourth floor, where she lived. Her apartment was nice and cozy, and was tastefully decorated with very modern, minimalist furniture and trappings.
“This is a lovely little place you've got here,” I remarked.
“It is quite nice, huh?” she said. “Glad you like it. Make yourself comfortable; I'll get the wine. You want some snacks too? I've got some crackers, cheese, and hummus, always good with wine.”
“That sounds good,” I said. “I'll just go to the bathroom first.”
“Sure,” she said. “First door on your right.”
I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, she'd put two glasses of red wine and a plate of snacks on the coffee table by the sofa.