Page 12 of The VIP Doubles Down
She shrugged out of his grip. “Congratulations. Best of luck.” She hated to be this way, but she’d learned that she had to protect herself from trusting her ex.
“The show films in LA, so I’m moving there.”
“Now thatisgood news.” Hurt clouded his eyes, and guilt gave Allie an undeserved jab, even as relief loosened the tension in her throat. “You’ve always wanted to live on the West Coast.”
“I’ll miss you,” he said, his voice ringing with sincerity and longing.
She believed him. He still didn’t take responsibility for all the ways he’d hurt her, so he didn’t understand that more than their marriage had ended. All the love she’d felt for him in the dozen years since he’d asked her out on their first date had been ripped out of her heart, leaving raw, painful wounds.
She moved a step away. “I wish I could say the same. But you have my blessing to go, if that’s what you came for.”
“I thought you’d be happy for me. We could celebrate together. I brought a bottle of champagne.” Now he was starting to get annoyed. “It’s in the refrigerator, chilling.”
“Seriously?” Astonishment gave a weird, breathless edge to her voice. “I’m supposed to celebrate with you when I have a restraining order against you?”
It was a vivid reminder of how he used to manipulate her, denying the awful things he’d said to her, shifting the blame for his problems onto her. She’d loved him, so she had believed it was somehow her fault and her obligation. Until he’d pushed it too far, and she’d found the strength to stand up to him.
“But we were married. You wanted me to do good.” When his grammar slipped, she knew he was upset.
She put a chair between them. “I don’t wish you ill, Troy, but I’m not going to celebrate with you ever again. Go to LA. Have a great life.”
“I ... you ...” He ran one hand through his tousled curls before he took a deep breath and pinned her with his gaze. “Is this really how you want me to remember you?”
His words took her back to the two naive kids they were when they got married and braved the callous streets of New York City. Troy was so beautiful and talented. He was going to be a star on Broadway. But his ambition was shared by thousands of other more beautiful, more talented actors. Audition after audition had passed without Troy landing a role.
Disappointment had given his beauty a ragged edge, which made it more interesting in some ways. But his ego had proven too fragile to survive the relentless rejections, and he’d taken it out on her, especially when he tried to blunt his failure with alcohol.
Those were the memories she wished she could erase.
“I don’t want you to remember me at all,” she said. “Start with a clean slate.” Maybe if he was gone, she could do the same.
“I thought you loved me.”
“I’m not going through this again.” Upset to find herself shaking, she walked into the kitchen and wrenched open the refrigerator door. She stood there for a moment, hoping the cold air wafting out would cool her rioting emotions. Picking up the champagne, she noticed it was an expensive brand. So typical of Troy to spend money he didn’t have.
Returning to the living room, she held out the bottle, her hand steady by sheer force of will. “Take it to LA. Celebrate your first television gig there.”
He jerked the champagne out of her hand. “You used to be a nicer person.”
No, she used to be a doormat, trying to soothe his mood by letting him hurl ugly words at her. She’d thought that’s what a loving wife did, but Troy kept escalating the emotional abuse until she’d nearly lost all sense of herself as a person. Thank goodness, she’d found the gumption to file for divorce before she disappeared altogether.
Allie sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s just say good-bye like civilized people.” She held out her hand, but he stepped back, his face a mask of anger.
“Civilized people cheer each other’s successes.” He spun around and headed for the door.
“Troy! I want my key back.” She turned her palm up. She couldn’t afford to change the locks.
He rummaged in his pocket and pulled the key out, throwing it on the braided rug at her feet. “I’ll never set foot in this place again.” He stalked into the hallway.
“Nice exit line,” she called out just before the door slammed.
She raced to the door to throw the dead bolt. Tottering back into the living room, she sank onto the couch, shivering with anger and regret. The regret was for the memory of the two foolhardy kids who had said “I do” before they knew each other—or themselves—well enough to handle the pressures of failure together.
As she stared at the cracked plaster ceiling, she felt the weight of soft cat paws on her lap. “Did you come to comfort me?” she asked, stroking Pie’s satiny fur. The little cat’s purr calmed her jangling nerves. “I wish I could have just hidden under the bed like you when Troy was in one of his moods.”
Now she regretted giving her ex the champagne. Even though it was before noon, she could use a drink. After all, she had no place to go today.
Or tomorrow.
