Return to Us

by Christy Pastore

  I took a long heavy breath and let it out. “I don’t want to walk away . . . I hate feeling this way, Tinley, and my God, I hate that you’re feeling this way. You must hate me.” I squeezed her leg, and her muscles tensed under my hand.

  “No, I don’t hate you, Matthew. I love you, which is why it feels like I can’t get enough oxygen. I feel like my heart is being ripped from my chest—like someone is tearing off pieces slowly.”

  Her words hit my heart with a painful blow. My heart continued to crack and splinter with every word. “I didn’t cheat on you, I didn’t sleep with her.”

  “I almost wish that you had, to get her out of your system. The fact that you want to doesn’t exactly make me feel any better.” Tinley kept her eyes forward, never looking at me as she spoke. “You were the person who was supposed to choose me every day.”

  My heart hammered against my ribs at the confrontation. Her words punched at my gut, the sadness overflowed spilling out as the emotional knife twisted again and again.

  I swallowed, my voice low and shaky. “Tinley, I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

  “Then tell me what she has that I don’t and let’s just clear the air.”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head. “Please, I don’t want to go down this road, not ever and not here.”

  “Well, Matthew,” she breathed, anger vibrating in her voice. “What road do you want to go down?”

  “I want to go down the road where we’d try to have another baby, but you won’t talk to me about that subject.”

  Tinley finished her glass of wine, and pushed to her feet. “I can’t do this again.” She kissed me on the cheek for the cameras. “I’m going back to East Harbour, my flight leaves in two hours. I’d love for you to come home for Christmas.”

  I watched her walk out the door, a smile plastered on my face the entire time. There were a dozen things that I wanted to say to her anything to get her to stay and talk to me.

  My feet wouldn’t move, and I couldn’t chase her down in the airport. There were too many people around. Rumors were already flying and I couldn’t risk sparking more.

  When it’s real, how can you walk away?

  I’d let Tinley walk away from me once and I’ll be damned if I let it happen now. I downed my beer and paid the tab. As I headed for the door, I was stopped by a group of fans. Be nice. I signed few autographs and snapped a few pictures.

  “Guys, I’d love to stay, but I’ve gotta catch my flight. My wife is waiting for me.”

  “Which wife, Matthew? On screen or in real life?”

  “Yeah, Matthew, where’s Georgina Dupree?”

  Snickers erupted and hushed whispers filtered through the crowd. My eyes scanned over the mass of people, anger boiling inside me.

  Remain calm.

  “Thanks, guys, Merry Christmas.”

  As I walked more briskly, trying to keep pace with the other airport travelers, the scent of popcorn and over roasted beans swirled around me. I disappeared into a crowd as I headed towards the gate.

  “Last call for San Juan, flight four twenty-three for San Juan this is the final boarding call.”

  My heart stopped and I thought back to our wedding in Puerto Rico. A brilliant idea came to mind. My eyes found Tinley as they always did. Emotion bent in her brows, her lips hidden behind a copy of Real Simple. My throat tightened. Tinley was here. She was right here with me, we weren’t lost, and we’d just lost our way. What a perfect sentiment to find our way back to one another or get lost together and away from all the chaos.

  “Oh, I see you found the gate.” The agitation in her voice was apparent.

  “Let’s go back to Rio Grande.”

  She looked at me as if I kicked a puppy. “Are you insane? You want to go back to the place where we exchanged wedding vows?”

  “Fine,” I said, waving off my suggestion. “Pick a place, anywhere you want to go and that’s where we’ll go.”

  “You want to go away on vacation?” she asked, shaking her head. “What about Christmas Eve with Ronan and Holliday? What about your filming schedule? Don’t you have to be back in Australia after the holidays?”

  “I don’t care about that, I care about you.”

  “You care about me, you just don’t know if you love me,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “I love you. I love you enough to throw away my career. Fuck it. I’ll open a gym or a tattoo shop. Better yet, you pick somewhere tropical and I’ll bartend like Tom Cruise in Cocktail.”

  A tiny smile pulled at her lips and I felt a sense of incredible satisfaction in melting the ice that was between us. “You cannot be serious.”

  “I am serious. No distractions. No galas. No media. You and me, beautiful, let’s get back to us.”

  She folded the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table. “Okay, Matthew, I think I’d like to go home to East Harbour. We need to fix us at home because going on vacation will just put us in a bubble—an escape from our problems. If we go home, we can face everything head on.”

  “I hear you,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

  Her eyes dropped to the floor. “This won’t be easy.”

  I brought my fingers to her chin and angled it towards me. “I’m not saying it will be easy, Tinley. I’m telling you right now, it will be worth it. You are worth everything to me.”

  WHEN THE CLOCK STRUCK midnight on Christmas Eve, I found Matthew sitting in front of the fire—glass of whiskey in hand. Ice clicked against the glass as his strong hands swirled its contents. I leaned against the doorframe. My gaze followed his as he stared into the flames licking against wood.

  They say if you’re going to repair your marriage you need to identify why you fell in love. There were many reasons that made me fall in love with Matthew. Aside from being kind and funny, Matthew accepted me and made me a better version of myself. I knew the exact moment when I fell in love with Matthew. It was a night much like this one . . .

  Six years ago

  “Welcome to our new establishment,” Ronan said, as he opened the heavy wooden door for me.

  “Thank you and congratulations.” My eyes scanned the space, as I shook out my umbrella and stomped my boots against the rug. There were no patrons, only the low hum of Christmas music piping through the speakers.

  The décor was traditional. Dark wood floors spanned from wall to wall. Heavy wooden beams lined the ceiling. Beautiful wrought iron sconces and ornate lanterns were mounted on the brick walls. It was charming and a warm welcome from the chilly December air.

  “Oh my God, you’re here,” Holliday cried out as she hopped down the stairs. Light bounced off her hand with every step she took. You couldn’t miss the sparkling diamond ring on her left hand.

  She threw her arms around my neck. “Happy New Year’s Eve.”

  I hugged her back. “Happy New Year’s Eve to you.”

  She stepped back from our embrace. “Can I take your coat?”

  I nodded, grabbing her hand to get a closer look at that ring. “I cannot believe that you are engaged and to a movie star,” I whisper yelled the last two words.

  “What can I get you to drink, Tinley?” Ronan asked, from behind the bar.

  “Well, I think we need to start with champagne, so that I can toast the two of you and your engagement.”

  Holliday clasped her hands together as Ronan pulled a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator.

  “I still can’t believe that you bought an Irish pub. When do you officially open?” I asked, taking a seat at the bar.

  “In a few months,” Ronan answered, as the cork popped. “Alex and I have some changes we want to make.”

  “And where are Alex and Ella?”

  “Lying on a beach in St. Barts,” Holliday said, tossing a scowl at Ronan.

  “She’s mad at me because we spent last New Year’s in Mexico and she wanted to go back. My work schedule put a damper on that idea.” Ronan passed me a champagne flute.

  “Here’s
to the two of you,” I said, raising my glass. “May you have many happy years together and be sure the honeymoon is somewhere tropical.”

  And here’s to me being the third wheel of the evening. I could think of worse ways to spend New Year’s Eve. At a loud bar, getting drinks spilled on me or the shit show that is Times Square. I swallowed down my champagne eyeing Ronan and Holliday as he whispered something into her hair.

  The sound of a pounding fist was followed with the words, “Let me in, Connolly.” I recognized who the voice belonged to and so did my lady bits. After my breakdown in Ella’s store, I’d made the decision to choose Matthew. When I’d called him back, he was in Plano with this family because his grandmother had fallen ill. In between her funeral, Thanksgiving, and our work schedules, it seemed that we couldn’t make time to talk. Now, I was probably about to have the most awkward of awkward run-ins.

  Matthew shook the snow out of his dark hair. “Hell has officially frozen over . . .” He strode towards me. “Tinley, it’s good to see you.” His arm curled around my waist tugging me close to him. He snatched the glass from my hand. “Ronan, Holliday, excuse the two of us for a moment.” Matthew tipped my chin up and crushed his lips to mine. It was the kind of kiss that made girls bend their leg at the knee.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered.

  “I’ve missed you,” his lips ghosted over mine. “I’ve missed your scent, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I missed the way your skin feels against mine. Trust me when I say, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

  I smiled against his lips. “So, what you’re telling me is that I’ve been on your mind a lot?”

  He nodded. “You have no idea.”

  “Okay, if you two would like to peel yourselves away from one another,” Holliday interjected. “We’ve got games, booze, food, and music. Let’s get this evening started.”

  Ronan busied himself behind the bar making whiskey cocktails, while I helped Holliday carry out all the food. Matthew rummaged through the games and settled on Trivia Crack.

  We spent the evening staying close to one another, always touching and leaning into each other. I was drowning in a powerful blizzard of emotions, and even though I knew we needed to have a deeper conversation, what was happening between the two of us was real.

  “What movie did Kevin Kline win an Oscar for?” Ronan asked, directing his gaze towards me.

  “Oh, it wasn’t The Big Chill—I think it was A Fish Called Wanda.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Okay, I need a refill,” Holliday announced as she stood. “Speaking of The Big Chill, listen to the song.”

  The lyrics for “When a Man Loves a Woman” drifted through the speakers and Ronan turned up the volume.

  “Great song,” Matthew said.

  I nodded. “Great movie.” My phone started to vibrate against the table top, and I glanced at the message. “Dammit!”

  “What’s wrong?” Matthew asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m supposed to host a dinner party at the Sundance Film Festival. There’s a celebration for the film actors who got their start in daytime television. A tribute to daytime and a few Q and A panels, etc., but I can’t find a venue for the dinner party. That was my final contact and they said they were booked.”

  “No room at the inn for the daytime crowd, huh?” Holliday asked, pouring a glass of wine.

  I laughed a humorless laugh. “We’re bottom feeders, don’t you know.”

  “How can you be a bottom feeder?” Holliday mused. “You are Hollywood royalty on multiple levels.”

  I shrugged. “I know, I even pulled the ‘don’t you know who my mother is’ card. It didn’t work and then I felt really bad about myself.”

  “I might have an idea,” Matthew said, tapping his phone to life. “I know a guy who just renovated a hotel and spa out there. It’s a long shot, because it’s the busy season, but let me send him a message.”

  “If you get the space, let me handle the party planning details,” Holliday said. “We’ll put it all over Instagram. I’ll make people take a second look at daytime television.”

  “Don’t worry, Tinley,” Matthew’s deep voice called from his now seated position at the bar. “If I have to move heaven and Earth, I won’t let you down.”

  I stared at Matthew who was typing away on his phone and on New Year’s Eve to help me. It was a thoughtful gesture. My feet carried me to the bar, where I draped my arm around his shoulders. “Thank you, Matthew.”

  Shifting towards me, he set his phone down. “You’re welcome.” His arms banded around my waist.

  “Wanna be my New Year’s kiss?”

  He nodded. “And for the next year, and probably the year after that, and all the days in between.”

  “You’re still not very original,” I said with a laugh. “I know there’s a lot we need to talk about. I know I was lost for a while, but I’m not anymore.”

  “No matter what, I will always find you.” Matthew pressed his lips to mine. “I want to be with you.”

  For the first time in a long time, I tucked myself beside my husband on the couch, and he pulled me close. It was hard to ignore the electricity of his touch, while still feeling a million miles away from him. As I stared into the flames collecting my thoughts, all these emotions rippled to the surface.

  Christmas Eve dinner with Ronan and Holliday had been nice. Nothing about tonight felt forced or awkward between the two of us. Being with Matthew, being together was as natural as breathing. Everything blurred like the flames of the fire licking over the logs—oranges jumped into yellows and whites into blues and then back again.

  “What are you sitting in the dark thinking about?”

  “I’m not totally in the dark,” he said, gesturing towards the fireplace. “Everything and nothing.” His fingers massaged slow circles on my arm. “Why are you up so late?”

  “My dad called,” I said, with a sigh. “He and Gianna are in Hawaii. He started rambling on about roasted pork, specifically the Hawaiian pineapple pork loin dish he ordered for dinner one evening, which led him to chatting about roasted chicken.”

  “I didn’t realize that your father was such a meat aficionado.”

  I laughed. “The oddest part was that he told me a story about when Mom cooked Christmas dinner, this was when they were first married, and apparently she roasted a duck.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had duck.”

  “Me either,” I said. “My father didn’t want to eat it, he said that he wanted roasted chicken, and then he tossed the duck into the trash. He yelled at her for thirty minutes about the meal, a meal that she planned and prepped days for, she told him she wanted to try something new with him. Mom cried in the bathroom the rest of the evening.”

  “Oh man, that is not good. Obviously, she came out of the bathroom.”

  “Yeah, but see my dad never talks about my mom. I’ve never heard that story, ever. I asked him how they made up, and he said that he doesn’t remember.”

  The whole conversation with my father made me sad. Long after the two of us ended the call, I sat on the bed staring out at the ocean. I didn’t know my father anymore, and I hadn’t for a long time.

  “If you made me a roasted duck or roasted chicken, I wouldn’t throw it away,” Matthew said, before finishing off his drink.

  I took a sip of my wine. “No? Not even if it was a little burned or overcooked?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I’d like to think that I would at least give it a try.”

  I could have made a snide remark. “No, but you would throw away our marriage?” I could have started a fight, but that was not the end result I wanted. Instead, I wanted these moments, the two of us snuggled up by the fire talking about anything or nothing.

  “Maybe, I’ll try a roasted duck recipe soon.”

  “Here’s one on Pinterest,” Matthew said, his thumb tapping at the screen of his phone. “Look, it’s a pizza recipe with figs and arugula.”r />
  I laughed, taking the phone from his hands. Another reason I loved my husband, he listened when I spoke—even when I talked about roasted duck or arugula.

  DID MATTHEW BARBER CHEAT on Tinley Atkinson with Georgina Dupree?

  Mattley Bombshell: Marriage in Trouble

  Matthew & Tinley: Inside Their Separate Lives

  Heartbreak for Mattley: Why He Cheated.

  I stared at my phone’s screen, more like glared. Rage coursed through my veins as I read the Christmas morning entertainment headlines. My thumb hovered over my publicist, Naomi’s name.

  “Merry Christmas, Matthew, what can I do for you?” Naomi’s unmistakable New England accent piped through the speaker.

  I dragged a hand through my hair. “I’d like to file a lawsuit against Tinsel and Hollywood dot com, Hollywood Razzle, Gossip Rush, and La La Daily.”

  She breathed a heavy sigh. “I was afraid this might happen.”

  I pinched my brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was tipped off yesterday by Tish, that sniveling editor at Gossip Rush. I told her I’d talk to you about doing an exclusive interview if she held off on printing the alleged cheating story.”

  “Fuck, are you kidding me?” I grumbled.

  “No, she wanted to be the first to publish the trash. Tish makes her living off these stories,” Naomi replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “I am sorry and my advice is to ignore.”

  I dropped to the sofa in the library. “Look, I know that picture of me and Georgina is damning, but I didn’t cheat.”

  “Does your wife know that?”

  “Yeah, we talked the day after the photo surfaced online.”

  That conversation nearly broke her, but I wouldn’t have her dealing with this bullshit on Christmas Day.

  “Well, Matthew, there is not much I can do about this and you know as well as I do that this is just part of the job of being famous. Everything in the article asks only questions, it’s merely an opinion piece.”

  “An opinion piece that paints me as a no-good cheater and Gossip Rush went as far as to reference Tinley being career driven, choosing that over kids. That topic is so exhausted.”