String Beans (The Girls of Beachmont #2) Read online

  How could he do this to me?

  “Baby, I love you. It meant nothing,” he said into the door, and for a split second I considered opening it, but deep down I knew better. “Let’s just talk about it, okay?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I shouted back, angrily wiping the wetness from my face.

  The thought of Will and sex in my bed—not with me—was enough to make my skin feel like it was on fire. I looked around the small apartment and everything in it that made it a “home.” And the biggest part of that home was the ass just outside the door pleading with me to let him in. I felt like someone had yanked the rug from beneath me, leaving me raw and questioning everything.

  How did I not see it?

  The writing must have been on the wall and I never saw it, or didn’t want to. But in that moment, when the world as I knew it was crumbling around me, the evidence was all I saw. Looking back, the pieces started coming together.

  A month earlier, Dani had let us stay with her because Will’s new band had booked a gig in San Diego. She was nursing a broken heart because she and her boyfriend had hit a rough patch. He was a pro football player who’d been injured and I’d convinced her that a night out with me was what she needed.

  While we were at the club, Dani pointed out some big-chested, scantily clad woman flirting with Will. While she looked concerned, I wasn’t.

  “It happens all the time,” I said with a shrug.

  “Vi, that’s not okay,” she said in that mothering tone I was all too familiar with from her.

  “It’s harmless. I trust him,” I answered.

  She lifted her chin and I looked over my shoulder. “And it’s harmless for her to slip him her number?”

  The woman walked off and Will lifted the paper in the air, showing it to me, and I laughed. He made a show of wadding in his hand before throwing it away. That was all there was to it and I didn’t think about it again.

  But later that night at Dani’s place, a piece of paper fell out of his pocket. I thought nothing of it at the time, but he seemed slightly rattled as he quickly stooped down to pick it up and smiled.

  “You can’t see this.” He winked. “I’m working on a song for you.”

  “I’m a fucking idiot. Song my ass,” I groaned out loud before yelling at the door. “You cheating asshole!”

  I looked around the room and remembered the wedding picture that had gone missing a few weeks before. It was the first thing we hung up when we moved in because we wanted a reminder of our day. We were outside standing next to a tree, me in my white slip dress and Will in his beige pants and white button-down. It had been the best day of my life. His smile was electric and we looked so in love.

  But when I’d asked Will where the picture had gone, he said that our next-door neighbor had banged on the wall to get him to turn down the music—the same neighbor who had never before made a big deal about the noise that came from our apartment. And I didn’t question it.

  Why didn’t I question it?

  Will said the picture had fallen off the wall, throwing glass everywhere, and he didn’t want me to hurt myself touching it. He even went so far as to show me the ruins of the broken frame and said he put the picture in a drawer until we got around to getting a new one.

  The signs were there, and yet I ignored every one of them. Or maybe they weren’t actually signs if my blinders were obscuring my view so much that when I looked at him, all I saw was the dynamic man I married.

  There were nights he came home from the bar and his routine was different. It didn’t alarm me, and in fact I thought it rather considerate of him. I had no reason not to trust him. When Will came home from work, he would typically jump in the shower and rinse the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and stale club from his body before climbing into bed. Those nights were usually spent with us making love before settling in for comfortable sleep.

  But then it changed. His showers became longer and he would climb into bed without ever even attempting to touch me—not even a kiss. When I questioned as to whether he was okay, he excused it by claiming he was slammed at the bar and really tired. It all seemed plausible at the time. Then I came to realize he was just getting slammed.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” I groaned and headed to the kitchen for another glass of wine. I considered calling Jolie, my best friend, but decided to do a little snooping around the apartment first.

  Aside from the missing wedding picture and his odd night habits, I didn’t know what I was looking for. Texts? Naked pictures? Incriminating videos?

  Our bedroom was small, leaving very little room for all of our things. We had boxes stacked high in the closet, under the bed, and more in storage. Despite living there for a year, boxes were always noticeable and I figured it would make it easy to spot anything incriminating.

  The first place I checked was our shared dresser. Rifling through a drawer, I found nothing that stood out, but I threw everything on the floor anyway, careful to set my own things aside. I moved to the closet, dragging a chair over so I could reach the top shelf. The duffel bags tumbled to the floor, barely missing my head, and along with them a box of condoms and a piece of paper. I picked it up and saw a note with a lipstick kiss on it.

  Enjoyed last night. Call me so we can do it again.

  ~Sadie

  When I got to the door, I made sure to latch the chain before opening it and extended my arm, shoving the paper in his face.

  “One of your skanks forgot this,” I spat angrily.

  He grabbed my hand and I tried to yank it back, but his grip was too firm.

  “You’re not really going to leave me out here all night are you?” he asked, gently rubbing my hand.

  “I don’t care where you end up, but it’s not going to be in here—with me. I really can’t even stomach the thought of looking at you.”

  “What can I do to make it up to you?” he begged.

  I twisted my wrist as I tried to pull away and he finally released his hold of me. I shook my hand gently at my side, trying to rid myself of the touch that seemed to linger on my skin.

  “It will never happen again.”

  That time, I did look at him. Through the opening of the door, I made eye contact and despite his words, I didn’t believe him. I shook my head, willing the tears to stay away and took a deep breath.

  “I know it won’t happen again,” I said confidently. “I won’t let you do this to me again.” He began to smile and I raised my hand to stop him from saying another word. “Because I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “Please, Viola, don’t,” he pleaded softly, and my heart broke. I didn’t know it was capable of breaking more than it already had.

  “It shouldn’t have happened at all, Will. You did this. And I’m not going to be the girl who stands by and waits for it to happen again,” I said before slowly shutting the door.

  He was trying to talk through the door, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear any more false promises or lame excuses. And I wasn’t in the mood to be the victim. I walked over to the small speaker next to the TV and plugged in my iPod to blast the music loud enough to drown out his words before heading to the bedroom.

  I was looking at what I needed to take and how I was going to get it when I remembered the duffel bags from the closet. I emptied my drawers into a bag until it was bursting at the seams and moved on to the next bag. When we got married, I had left most of my things at my parents’ house since we had no room for the majority of my old things. I had fully embraced the life of an artist and left with only my clothes, guitar, a few pictures, and high hopes.

  Thanks, Will.

  Soon, four duffel bags were loaded and stacked by the front door before I moved to the boxes. I opened the one labeled ‘Will’s Music’ and emptied the contents, and quickly replaced it with my own music, books, and important papers. He could have everything else in the apartment...I didn’t want the memories. As I looked around, I began to feel the tears pooling, so I grabbed my
phone and called the one person who would cheer me up, if even for just a minute. I turned the music down so I could hear her and she picked up on the first ring.

  “What’s up, Mrs. Banks?” Jolie said in her usual perky tone.

  A lump formed in the back of my throat and I wasn’t sure if I was going to cry or vomit, but whatever it was, it made it next to impossible to speak. When I remained silent she became panicked, her voice rising slightly.

  “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head as if she could see me and a whimper escaped me.

  “Vi, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?”

  “It’s over,” I finally managed before turning into a sobbing mess.

  “What’s over? Vi, talk, now.”

  “Will. Marriage. All of it,” I wailed, sinking to my knees as the agonizing pain took over.

  “What happened?” Her tone changed from concern to momma bear in a flash and I was so grateful to have her.

  “He was here with another woman,” I answered before exhaling loudly as I tried to compose myself.

  “Will was with someone else? In your place?” she asked, her voice going up an octave as she finished.

  “In my bed,” I gritted. “Another woman in my bed.”

  “Where the hell is he? Let me talk to him. Now.”

  I couldn’t help the small laugh that erupted from me and there was no doubt I was going crazy, but then again, the whole situation was crazy.

  “Are you kidding me? Is this a stupid joke, because it’s not funny,” she asked, her tone dry and annoyed.

  “No.” I laughed even harder, only adding more confusion. “I’m totally serious.”

  “He cheated on you and you’re laughing?” she clarified.

  “Oh no, I’m pissed off. But you can’t talk to him,” I informed her.

  She was quiet for a moment and then whispered conspiratorially, “What did you do?”

  “Locked his ass out of the apartment,” I admitted through my laughter.

  “You are losing it,” she said as if I were about to break. Maybe I was. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Isn’t it enough that it happened once? Which, by the way, is not true. It’s happened several times. I just caught him this time. Besides, I don’t care how long it’s been going on.”

  “Oh Vi, I’m so sorry,” she said sadly, and just like that, the tears fell again.

  “I’ll be fine. I promise. But Jolie, I can’t stay here. I can’t play house with someone who’s screwing around.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s over. I packed my stuff and I’m getting out of here.”

  “Just like that? You’re not even going to try to work it out?” she accused, and her words stung.

  “Work it out?” I repeated defensively. “What is there to work out? Maybe I could have worked it out if it happened once, but this is a pattern that for some insane reason I have been unaware of, so forgive me if I don’t see the need to stick around and work it out.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean? Because right now, it seems like you’re making me out to be the bad guy here,” I challenged.

  “Are you going to talk to him? Get some answers?”

  “I don’t really want to hear what he has to say,” I admitted.

  His possible answer scared me most. What if I asked him why or how long it was going on and it was my fault? I knew my heart wouldn’t be able to take it. Maybe someday.

  “Where are you going to go?” Jolie asked, careful not to get me worked up again.

  I closed my eyes and thought for a moment. Going home to my parents’ house was not an option for several reasons, but the biggest was that I didn’t need to hear any lectures about my marriage. I knew where they stood on that one. I could go back to Beachmont, but the town carried too many Will memories for me and I wasn’t ready to face those, either.

  “I’ll figure something out. It’s not like I can pick up and go to L.A. tomorrow.”

  “L.A.?”

  “Why not? I have some money saved up… Granted I’ll need more, but I can get a job out there just as good as the one I have here.”

  The problem with that argument was that I was a college-educated woman who did not use said education. It was hard to come by enough money to make ends meet in a small town like Spring Park, and I wasn’t sure I’d survive in someplace like L.A. But at least I had a little time to figure it out.

  “When you’re ready, I’ll move,” she offered, even though she was all the way in Wyoming.

  “I love you for worrying about me, Jolie. But I’ll be fine,” I stated confidently, somehow managing a small smile.

  “I know you will,” she said before silence took over for a moment. “You know I love you. I do. And I am one hundred percent on your side here…”

  “But?”

  “But I can’t help but hope you’re wrong or this is all just a bad dream, because I love Will. What you two have together is what I want someday,” she said sadly.

  “I want better. I deserve better. And so do you,” I said to myself as much as I was saying it to her.

  Now just repeat over and over until you finally believe it, I told myself for the rest of the night.

  ***

  The alarm on my side of the bed chirped its familiar tune, waking me up from a nightmare. I rolled over onto my side and extended my hand to touch Will’s back, but all I felt were cold sheets. Slowly, I sat up and rubbed my eyes as reality began to sink in.

  “Damn it,” I muttered.

  The bedroom was in complete disarray and a throbbing sensation began making its way into my head. I stumbled to my feet, grabbed the shorts I wore the night before, and pulled them on. I needed to get moving if I wanted to get out of the apartment and find a place to stay for a while.

  I walked into the bathroom feeling lightheaded and splashed water on my face. I still hadn’t talked to Will, but I knew it was inevitable. There were things that needed to be said and plans that needed to be made. Jolie thought I was rushing things by deciding to move away, but sticking around didn’t sound great either. I knew if I even entertained the idea of working it out, it would happen again and I’d be kicking myself for waiting.

  My bags were piled in the middle of the small living room space and there was very little left for me to do. I walked to the door and opened it to find Will asleep in the rickety chair we’d bought for ten bucks the summer before. He jolted upright at the sound of the door and almost fell over as he scrambled to his feet. I turned my back, but left the door open so he could follow me in.

  There was a small section on the ugly aqua couch that we found at a consignment store that wasn’t taken up by my things, so I sat there, keeping my distance from him. I hadn’t been able to look at him since the previous night, but when I finally did, he was frozen in place, taking in the sight around him.

  I watched in silence as he looked from the mess to me, his brows pinched together. He somehow looked older than his age of twenty-four, but I knew it was from lack of sleep.

  “You’re not leaving,” he stated, but I knew it was a question. He walked over, kneeling in front of me like he did the night before, and buried his head in my lap. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, his breath hot against my legs.

  I fought the urge to run my fingers through his hair in an effort to console him and it almost made me laugh. He was the one who screwed up, not me, and I was worried about him?

  “I’ll make this right, I swear it,” Will said when I didn’t respond. “Just give a me chance.”

  I closed my eyes and took a breath as I tried to fight off another wave of tears. It was easy to hate Will when I didn’t have to look at him. But at that moment, my heart broke all over again because I knew he wanted to fix it.

  I finally cleared my throat and my voice sounded scratchy as the broken words came out. “I love you, Will. You know that. I think I’ve loved yo
u too much, ignored too much.”

  He lifted his head and was still kneeling in front of me, his eyes pleading for my forgiveness. Timidly, he took my face in his hands and waited for me to look at him. “I. Love. You, Viola. No one else,” he said, his voice cracking.

  I reached up and pried his fingers away and moved past him, needing the space for my own sanity. “Not enough.” I turned to look down at him and crossed my arms over my chest, squeezing my own arms for strength. “If you loved me, there would have never been a need for you to have someone else, let alone in our bed. I almost think you wanted to be caught.”

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away, give up on me—on us?” he asked, his voice growing defensive.

  “You gave up on us, Will. The moment you started screwing other women, you ended this. And the only reason I’m here now is to say goodbye.” My voice was cold and broken, just like my heart had become. “I’ve been so consumed with you and your dreams that somehow, I forgot my own. So maybe I need to thank you for screwing around, because I’m going to spend some time working on me.”

  I didn’t wait for him to say anything; there was nothing else to say. I started grabbing my bags, taking them out to my car one by one, while Will watched. It was as if he was waiting for me to tell him it was a joke, his eyes studying every movement I made.

  He stood immobile until the last bag was in the middle of the room. I walked into our bedroom and grabbed a picture of us from my side of the bed. We were sitting at an outdoor concert, staring at each other, clearly in love. I wondered what happened to that couple. Would they have gotten together if they knew how it would end?

  Looking at the past made my heart ache more, so I set it down and walked back and picked up the last bag. I was almost out the door when I turned to give my life one last look. Will was standing in the center of the room like a lost puppy dog, and I as much as I wanted to save him, I couldn’t. I filed everything to memory and gave the bag a small nudge to hoist it onto my shoulder.