“I promise I will see a therapist,” I remind her. “It should be easy to go about my business unnoticed in Dublin.”
At least, that’s the plan. From the research I’ve done online, Ireland sounds like the ideal place to hide until all the interest in me dies down. Though I refuse to think of it as hiding. It’s more akin to self-preservation. I’m taking time for myself, to heal, away from the fishbowl that is my current life in L.A. I’m nervous but excited too.
I’m thrilled at the prospect of studying at Trinity College Dublin, one of the world’s most renowned and reputable colleges. Established in 1592, it boasts prestigious alumni. I will be joining the likes of Oscar Wilde and Samuel Beckett as an English literature student, and I’m giddy at the prospect of exploring all that wonderful Irish heritage and legendary Irish charm.
“I’m proud of you, princess.” Dad reels me into a smothering hug. “We’re going to miss you so much, but I think this is wonderful. Your mom does too. She just can’t help worrying.”
“I can’t, but your dad is right, as usual.” Mom wraps her arms around both of us, and we indulge in a group family hug that helps to warm all the frozen parts of me. “And maybe we could visit?” she asks when we break our embrace.
I bite on my lower lip. “Lauren and Jonathon Mills showing up in Dublin might get reported, and I’m trying to keep a low profile. But we’ll see,” I add when Mom’s face drops. “Look at the positives.” I squeeze her hand. “You can take that role now.” They hadn’t recast it yet as they were begging Mom to reconsider so my decision works out best for everyone.
Dad glances at his Patek Philippe watch, as the door opens and our driver starts grabbing my bags. “If you still want to drop by Reeve’s house, you’ll need to hurry. We’ll be leaving in thirty minutes.”
I nod, gathering my courage and taking a deep breath. “I’ll go now, but I think I’ll walk.” I can work up the nerve to face him without breaking on the way over. It gives me an excuse to say what I want to say and leave, and if my resolve cracks, I have the ten-minute walk back to compose myself.
“Honey. Are you sure this is wise?” Mom asks.
“I can’t leave the country without telling him, Mom.”
“You don’t owe Reeve anything, Vivien.” Mom folds her arms, and I wonder if she’ll ever forgive him.
Reeve hasn’t just lost me.
He’s lost my parents too.
Considering my parents virtually raised him, it’s no small matter. From what I can see, Simon Lancaster is still keeping his son at arm’s length. Reeve has lost his support system, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about him. I’m betting he never stopped to consider that before he took molly and made out with that bitch.
And, just like that, my anger is back.
I’ve had moments of weakness, where his words and his gestures have almost broken through the fragile walls I’ve erected around my heart. Then I remember that video—and how everyone knows he cheated on me—and I lose any remaining compassion for my ex.
A tight pain spreads across my chest, and I rub at it, willing it to go away. It hurts so much to call him that. I still can’t believe he threw everything we had away for her. It’s like the nineteen years we shared meant nothing to him, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him.
“Honey.” Mom gently grips my shoulders. “You can write him a letter, and I’ll see he gets it.”
I shake off my melancholy. “No, it’s okay. I’m going to speak with him.”
Mom still looks uncertain. Dad circles his arms around her waist from behind, and I hate that the loving gesture pierces me straight through the heart. Reeve used to do that to me. Most likely he was subconsciously copying my dad, and I wonder if every time I see a couple engaged in PDA it will feel like someone is tearing strips off my annihilated heart. “Let Vivien do what she needs to do. Besides, I think Reeve needs to know. Otherwise, he may chase after her.”
Like hell will he come anywhere near me. I’m doing this for my sanity. To get away from him and the media attention. If the hottest new movie star suddenly appeared on the streets of Dublin, I’m sure the Irish people would sit up and take notice, and my cover would be blown.
Reeve is not ruining this fresh start for me. I won’t let him.
With fresh determination, I stride with purpose toward his house.
26
My hand shakes as I press the bell, rocking back on my heels at Reeve’s front door. It’s strange to be waiting to be admitted when I’m used to having a key and letting myself in at all hours of the day and night.