55. Renee

Distraction is the best way to cope when you”re not ready to deal with the nonsense that”s going on in your life.

And oh, lucky me, I have a hell of a distraction when I stay with Sutton.

Despite dealing with my family, Deacon, and now, being a married woman locked in her first real marital dispute, the world keeps turning. And in those turns, a very important date comes right around the bend.

My gallery showing.

Between the last-minute preparations, finding an outfit—all the while Sutton being the bestest best friend ever and arranging for me to get all my shit out of Deacon”s place without me having to go there myself—I don”t have the time to wallow in the depths of my hurt. I feel like that”s a good thing.

Honestly, I”m not sure how to reconcile all this shit.

I mean, how many times do you hear about women having to compete with their husband”s best friend for their husband’s heart? It”s not what I expected when all of this went down. I always thought of Hunter as a golden retriever, but I guess addiction will have someone doing anything just to keep up the habit or get themselves out of the trouble the habit gave them.

So where does that put me? The expendable wife versus the irreplaceable best friend?

It puts me on Sutton’s couch, that’s where.

”Uh-oh. You’ve got a look on your face.”

Sutton comes up to me, squinting at my expression for clues about where my head’s wandered off to. We”ve been at the gallery for about two hours now. All the final touches are getting polished, and it”s a steady, dwindling countdown to opening time.

My heart tries to beat out of my chest. ”I don”t know what you”re talking about.”

”I think you do.” She puts her hands on my shoulders. Looking me square in the eyes, she demands all of my attention. ”You”re thinking about Weston”s big, dumb face and his small, dumb brain. And I get that—but tonight is your night,” she tells me. ”You”ve worked hard—so hard—for this, Renee. Weston, your relationship, this shit with Hunter… It”ll still be there to think about once you”re done here. For now, I think you owe it to yourself to be all in on this.”

I take in a breath. Let one out. Then I nod. ”You know what? You”re right.”

”Of course I am! I”m always right. Except that one time where I swore the gas station sushi was totally safe to eat.”

I make a face. ”Yeah, that was pretty fucking awful, Sutt.”

She grins. ”Yeah, it was. Positively gnarly.” She wraps her arms around me, squeezing tight. ”I”m really proud of you. Now, let”s crush it!”

The theme of the showing is L.A. Unveiled. I”ve spent the last few weeks—between my personal life”s various shenanigans—capturing candids of life around the City of Angels. But not the life that most people think of. There are no stars, no performers in this showing. Not a single flashy, fancy, blue-blooded scene in sight.

I wanted to capture the everyday people—the true lifeblood of the place I call home.

The irony isn”t lost on me—I came from a completely different world than my subjects. But it”s my subjects that show the real vibrancy of the world around us. It isn”t the glitz and glam of Hollywood—it”s the little things.

A mother and son at Griffith Park. The way she smiles at him as he tells her about some crazy cool new bug he”s discovered.

A family washing the car on their driveway in Redondo, laughing as they spray each other with water.

Hundreds of strangers buzzing in and out of a grocery store in a long, blurred timelapse, all with their own life stories that have converged at one place at one time together and they don”t even realize the marvel in how special that really is.

But there”s one thing missing.

Weston.

All of these pictures were taken on the camera he bought me. And despite everything happening between us right now, I want him by my side—if only to say, “See? look at what I”ve done, Weston. Look at what you”ve helped me accomplish.”

As people filter in, I maroon myself in the corner and watch anxiously, chewing my fingernails down to nubs. I pull away from the crowd after a while. My feet are killing me (why I thought it would make sense to wear heels when I”m literally carting around a whole human inside me, I couldn”t tell you) and I need to recenter myself before going on more rounds of socializing and compartmentalizing the fact I”ve gotten at least half a dozen new offers for photography work since this showing started.

I”m overwhelmed in the best of ways.

I get a water and carry it out to one of the balcony areas that overlooks the city. It”s a gorgeous view of mountains and valleys. I”ve always felt like this is the best part of California. Quiet, lights shimmering in the hazy distance, rolling hills scraping the sky at the horizon.

”Looks good enough to take a picture.”

I suck in a breath.

I know that voice.

I whip around, nearly dropping the glass of water in my hand. He”s there, in all his glory. Suit pressed and well-fitted to his body, hair flawless. He smells like a dream, something woodsy that hits my nose even with the space between us.

I really didn’t think he would show up.

”You—you”re here.”

”Of course I am.” Weston’s nose wrinkles. “You really think that I wouldn”t come?”

”I don”t know what to think.”

He hums, nodding. After a second, he steps closer. Another, then another, and before long, he”s put himself beside me. I let him. For now.

He leans on the balcony and gazes out over the scene I was just admiring. He smiles sadly. ”Shame so many people just forget this part of the world looks like this,” he murmurs. ”I remember the first time my dad brought me and Molly up to the observatory and we spent so much time just looking out over the range. I think it was the first time I was, like… wowed by something.”

My face softens as I take the spot at the rail beside him. Weston doesn”t speak of his dad often, but I appreciate every moment that he does.

”Yeah. I like it up here.”

We”re quiet for a moment.

”Thank you for coming,” I say suddenly. ”But… right now, it doesn”t change how I feel about the Hunter situation.”

”I didn”t think it would.” He looks at me. ”To be honest, I don”t know what to do. He”s not a bad guy, Renee. He”s not, like, out here robbing people at gunpoint or assaulting people, or hurting animals or whatever the hell. He”s got mental issues and did the only thing he thought would help.”

”And I get that,” I agree. ”I get he has an issue—but issues like that, people have to have a wake-up call. Otherwise, it keeps happening. And then it gets worse and worse, and then what? Today, it”s your memorabilia. Tomorrow, it”s money, it”s important shit, it”s him getting sloppy and owing the wrong person and when they come for him, it”s not just him they”re going to hurt.” I look up at him, my eyes pleading. ”What happens when it”s me or this child that gets caught in the crossfire? And say it never happens—how am I supposed to be secure in my marriage to you, when it”s always going to be there that at any point in time, you can believe a lie about me, and then I”m just gone? I just—” My words hitch in my throat. ”I just want to know I matter enough that that”s not going to happen again.”

He takes my face in his hands. ”You matter to me more than you could ever know, Renee.”

”Then show me,” I beg. “Make me believe it.”

His expression is stricken. He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. ”I don”t have the answers right now,” he rasps. ”But, like I promised you that day I found out I was gonna be a father—I”m gonna try. I”m gonna figure it out. We don”t have to talk about this right now if you don’t want to—it’s your special night and I didn’t come here to ruin it or make it about me. It’s about you tonight. But… we’ll work on it, okay? I didn”t make those vows just to get you away from Deacon. I made them for you. For me. For us.”

I look into Weston”s eyes. I see myself reflected in them.

There are no real answers yet. But there”s something reassuring in knowing there will be answers eventually. Weston”s not giving up and neither am I, even if neither of us knows what the hell we”re doing.

It”s not like we”ve ever been married before, and this is the first time we”re facing down the baby barrel. It goes without saying that some things will break in the process.

I take in a breath. ”I can be patient,” I say haltingly. ”I know… I know this is a hard thing to think about. I know Hunter means a lot to you. It”s just… This doesn”t just involve you and me anymore, you know? There’s more now.”

I cradle my stomach and Weston slides his fingers over mine. He squeezes them before gentling against the swell of my stomach. ”I know. You and this little one are always on my mind. I”m just—” He goes to say something, but catches himself. ”Anyway. I wanted to come out here and support you. Not stress you out.”

”You didn”t.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. ”You don”t have to lie for my benefit.”

”Okay,” I relent. ”I”m a little stressed.”

”Anything I can do about that?”

I smile. ”You could kiss me?”

Weston grins. ”I think I can do that.”

He takes my face in his hands again, leaning in to press a tender kiss to my mouth. It”s soft and sensual. Gentle.

I press close to him. I”ve missed this. As mad as I am at him, I still miss his touch. It”s so weird to be feeling as touch-starved as I am. I didn’t even realize all the ways it was chewing up at me from the inside out. One kiss and I feel whole, healed, complete.

”There,” he murmurs against my lips. ”Better?”

I smile and nod. ”Better.” Then I blink. ”Oh, shit.”

Weston looks alarmed. ”What? What is it?”

”Baby bladder,” I explain, pulling away from him. ”Give me, like, five minutes. I”ll be right back, okay?”

He nods, and I swear he looks like he”s trying to hide the excitement of the thought of me coming back. It gives me a pleased little flutter in the pit of my stomach. We haven”t stopped being down bad for each other, which somehow makes dealing with all of this just a little bit easier.

I make my way to the bathroom, dodging calls of my name with sorries and several repetitions of “Baby”s sitting on my bladder!”

The pee is a sweet relief. I wash my hands and chance a look in the mirror. I’m smiling softly, I see, and you couldn’t rip it away from me with a freaking bulldozer.

I’m still smiling when I open the bathroom door and step back outside.

It doesn’t last long after that.