Always

by Amanda Weaver

  “I’m sorry, Justine. I wasn’t looking for this. I didn’t plan it. Sarah and I spent so much time working together and it just happened—”

  Justine glanced at the blond—at Sarah— this woman Ian had fallen in love with. Tiny facts began falling into place. Sarah, the fellow reporter with the amazing contacts. Sarah, who got him the invite to the Peabodys. Sarah, who was apparently worthy of standing at his side that night when she was nothing but an embarrassment to him. The betrayal, the pain of it, was nearly physical, stealing her breath, turning her body cold.

  Sarah swallowed and took a step closer to Ian, reaching out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry you found out this way, but Ian’s right. Neither one of us meant for this to happen.”

  This woman, this stranger, was standing next to her husband like she belonged there. She looked like she did. And suddenly Justine felt like the outsider. She’d been neatly turned out of her own marriage in a matter of minutes. No, not minutes. Falling in love wasn’t the work of a moment. How long? How long had he been falling in love with Sarah while Justine struggled to hold them together? The thought made her sick. She felt like a fool, a stupid, naive fool. She was pissed.

  “Well. I guess I’m the one who should go, then,” she said, turning away while she still could without falling apart.

  “Justine, you can’t just leave like this. We need to talk.”

  “Talk to my fucking lawyer,” she said, without looking back. “You and I are done.”

  April, 2013

  With a groan, Justine pushed her laptop away and reached for her coffee mug. She made a face when she found it had gone cold, and got up for a refill.

  “Something wrong?” Emily asked, coming into the kitchen with Grace on her hip. Grace had a set of plastic keys on a ring in one fist and a graham cracker in the other. She was taking turns stuffing the two into her mouth. Emily grabbed a paper towel and attempted to wipe the worst of the graham cracker mess off her face.

  “Just more emails from the lawyers. Getting divorced is a pain. I don’t recommend it.”

  Emily chuckled. “Since I don’t have any immediate plans to get married, I think I’m safe.”

  “Lucky you,” Justine groused. She smoothed a hand over Grace’s wispy dark hair and pressed a kiss to her head, inhaling her warm baby smell, reminding herself what was really important. Grace wiggled and squirmed in Emily’s grip.

  “I can take her, Emily,” Meggie said, coming into the kitchen, arms outstretched. “I was about to take her for a walk anyway.”

  “Do you want to go with them?” Emily asked Justine.

  Justine eyed her computer and scowled. On the one hand, she wanted to. Getting out with Gracie, maybe taking her to the playground, would take her mind off the ugliness in her inbox. On the other, she didn’t want the hassle of the paparazzi. Meggie could take Grace out without turning a single head. If Justine was with them, pictures of her pushing the baby on the swings were all over the Internet the next day. She was used to the attention, but she didn’t like to subject Grace to it any more than necessary. “Maybe this afternoon. You can go if you want, though.”

  Emily waved Meggie out. “Nah, I’ll park it here with you.” She slid onto a kitchen stool across the counter from Justine and moved a box of muffins closer. “Maybe you need one of these to make you feel better.”

  Justine smiled weakly and took one, pulling it apart with her fingers.

  “Is Ian being a dick?”

  “Not particularly. I mean, outside of the whole falling-in-love-with-another-woman part. He’s not being crazy about the money or anything. He took the settlement the lawyers proposed without a fight, so I guess I should be grateful.”

  “You don’t have to feel grateful about your marriage ending. You’re allowed to feel how you feel.”

  “I feel stupid.”

  “Stupid? Why?”

  “Just…” Justine raised her hands and then dropped them again. “There I was, trying so hard to keep us going and all the time, he was already gone. In love with someone else. How could I have not noticed it?”

  Emily reached across the counter and grabbed her wrist. “You didn’t notice because he kept it a secret, Justine. All that bullshit about ‘it just happened.’ Sleeping with someone who is not your wife doesn’t just happen. This is on him, not you.”

  “Nothing is ever all one person.”

  “You had nothing to do with him and Sarah.”

  “No, not that part. But me and Ian? We were already in trouble before she happened. And that was partly me.”

  “How so?”

  Justine shrugged, eyes on the muffin she was destroying. She’d spent most of the past two months hurt and furious, but it couldn’t last forever. As she began to let go of some of it, she’d also begun to re-examine her whole relationship with Ian from the beginning, looking for answers.

  “Sometimes I wonder if he was a rebound for me.”

  “From Dillon, you mean?”

  Justine nodded tightly. “I was such a mess after the tour, and everything that came after. Not just how I felt about Dillon, either. It was the drinking, Ash’s drugs, all of it. My career took off and overnight, there was almost no one I could trust. Ian showed up and he had nothing to do with any of it. I already knew him from before, so he seemed… safe. Like I could trust his intentions. Maybe I grabbed on to him and used him to escape everything else.”

  “But you loved him.”

  She sighed, feeling the dull throb of pain the thought instigated. Not lethal anymore, but still there. “I did.”

  “Then you weren’t using him. Maybe you threw yourself into a relationship with him a little faster than you might otherwise have done, but the feelings were real.”

  “They were. And then Grace happened. Maybe getting married so fast was a mistake. We should have waited.”

  “Justine, I love you, but stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop trying to find the one wrong choice you made. You can’t undo it anyway, and in the end, you’re still where you are. Leave the past in the past and move on from here.”

  Justine thought about it for a minute. Maybe Emily was right. After all, even if she figured out where it had all gone wrong, it wouldn’t change the outcome. And really, what was so awful about where she was now? Yes, her husband had left her for another woman, but without Ian she’d never have Gracie, who was the light of her life. And her career, although it had caused all kinds of fractures in her marriage, was successful beyond her wildest dreams. Even if she stopped performing tomorrow, she had plenty of money to last the rest of her life. She had perfect little Grace. She had Emily and her parents. She still had Dillon. In short, life was good, in spite of her failed marriage. And she’d get over that eventually. She’d gotten over heartbreak once before and come out swinging. She’d do it again.

  “You’re right, I know.”

  “Of course I am. You’ll be okay. If anybody could come out of a divorce even better than before, it’s you.”

  Justine laughed. “Older and wiser, maybe, but better? We’ll see.”

  “Yes, we will. And I predict the best is yet to come for you.”

  “I hope so. It would be dismal to think it’s all downhill from here.”

  “It’s just the start of a new era. Nobody’s life is about one thing. I mean, look at Dillon. What did you call it once? His second act? It’s brilliant.”

  Justine smiled, thinking about Dillon’s recent success as a producer. It was much lower-profile than his old life in the band, but in a way, he was doing better than he ever had. He was quickly becoming one of the most sought-after producers in the business.

  “Speaking of Dillon,” Emily said as she slid off the barstool, “I invited him over for dinner tonight.”

  “You did? My Dillon?”

  Emily laughed. “Your Dillon? I beg your pardon, but as close as he’s gotten to our dad, he belongs to the whole family now. Is it okay that I asked him?”

>   “Of course,” Justine said. “He practically lives here as it is.”

  Emily watched her sister for a moment, thinking. “Yep, he sure does,” she murmured.

  Justine looked up. “What?”

  Emily shrugged. “ I was just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Dillon. And you.”

  “What about us? Emily, quit hinting and spit it out.”

  “Do you ever get the feeling Dillon feels more for you than friendship?”

  Justine dropped her eyes back to her laptop and squirmed uncomfortably, remembering two years ago, the kiss, the moment she and Dillon had never spoken of again. He felt something then, but she’d never been sure what it was and if he still did. Judging from his behavior, he absolutely didn’t.

  “No. I mean, you know there’s been the attraction. I think it’s been there since we met. But we’re past all that now. We’re just friends.”

  “But—”

  “Emily,” she sighed. “Don’t make me worry about something that isn’t there. Once or twice in all the years we’ve known each other something’s maybe almost happened, but it never has, for lots of reasons. And right now? I can’t even think about it. I’m in the middle of a divorce.”

  Emily held up her hands. “Sorry, sorry. I was just curious.”

  Justine shrugged it off, backing away from a conversation that made her uncomfortable. Her emotional life was in enough turmoil. She wasn’t going to go looking for more.

  “I’m going to go catch up to Meggie and Grace at the park,” Emily said. Justine waved her away and turned back to answer the ugly lawyer emails she’d been avoiding all morning.

  August, 2013

  Dillon pulled up to the gate at the foot of Justine’s driveway, skirting a cluster of fans and a guy with a huge telephoto lens camera. He leaned out of the window and keyed in the security code. He came and went so frequently the photographer didn’t even bother to raise his camera. There was no story with Dillon and all the paparazzi knew it.

  He parked at the far edge of the circular drive, trying to leave room for all the other cars there to get out around him. If there was one thing he was getting used to about Justine’s reality, it was the people always surrounding her, from Meggie, the live-in nanny, to Ari, her manager, to all the musicians there during the day to work on her album. There was such a crowd in constant attendance at her house, she’d hired a chef to come in and cook for them every day.

  It was a nice arrangement she had going these days. She was determined to keep her schedule sane, even while recording the new album, so they did it all in her home studio. She spent her mornings alone with Grace and then worked all afternoon on the album while Meggie took the baby. She usually wrapped up the sessions by six so she could have dinner with Grace and put her to bed herself. It was a very civil and enjoyable way to make a record, he had to admit. Even better, most days she asked him to hang around for dinner after everyone went home, so he got her and Grace to himself for a few hours. Those evenings were the highlights of his week.

  As he made his way through the maze of cars littering the wide drive, he looked up and was startled to see Ian coming towards him, having just left the house. An unpleasant sensation settled into his gut as he wondered why the asshole was here. Then he remembered it was Monday and he’d had Grace all weekend. He must be dropping her off. Ian was in a difficult limbo these days, nominally living in LA so he could stay close to Grace, but still working mostly out of New York. Plus, the chick he’d inexplicably left Justine for lived in New York. He supposed eventually Ian would have to make a hard choice, but frankly, he couldn’t care less.

  Dillon raised his chin at him in that universal, marginally-polite guy greeting, intending to walk right by him without a word. But Ian stopped, eyes narrowing.

  “Figures you’d be here. Again.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean, you all but live here. You always have.”

  Dillon’s temper flared, but getting into it with this jerk wasn’t going to help the situation, so he raised his hand to back him off. “I’m here to work on her album. In her studio?”

  Ian let out a dismissive snort of laughter. “Sure. It’s always been about the music with the two of you. I get it.”

  “Whatever you’re accusing her of, you’re way off base. It is about the music. I happen to care about her career.”

  Now Ian’s eyes flashed with anger. He stiffened and took a step towards Dillon, but he cut him off before he could carry through on whatever he was threatening. “How’s your girlfriend, Ian?”

  His words had the desired effect, shutting Ian down on the spot. He clenched his teeth and crossed his arms over his chest, but he stayed where he was. It was Dillon’s turn to laugh.

  “Yeah, you lost all rights to give a shit about who’s in Justine’s life when you cheated on her. Now, we have work to do. You mind if I get to it?”

  He didn’t wait for a reply. He moved past Ian, making sure to knock him hard in the shoulder as he did. He waited until he heard Ian’s car start and pull away before he rang the bell. The last thing Justine needed was some bullshit drama on her front lawn. Meggie answered the door, arms full of baby clothes, looking flustered as she blew a short, sandy curl out of her face.

  “Hey, Dillon, come on in. We just got back so it’s a little chaotic right now.”

  He heard Justine’s laugh in the other room and then Grace appeared, running unsteadily towards him, her dark pigtails bouncing. She was laughing, a bubbling toddler giggle that grabbed him right around the heart.

  “Dillon!” she called, hands outstretched. She’d only recently graduated from calling him “Diwon” and truthfully, he kind of missed it. When she reached him, he scooped her up and stood, swinging her high in the air. She shrieked with laughter as he spun her over his head.

  “There’s my Gracie Girl! How are you today?”

  “Again!” she commanded, so he swung her up again, eliciting another shriek.

  Justine came into the room, smiling and leaning on the doorway, watching them.

  “She’ll make you do that all day, Dillon.”

  “I’ll do it all day and all night if it makes her happy.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s naptime, so we’ll have to cut the playtime short today.”

  “Alright,” he said, hugging Grace to his chest and kissing her cheek.

  “I’ll take her,” Meggie said, pulling her free.

  “Dillon play!” Grace demanded, reaching back for him.

  “You get Dillon later, Gracie,” Justine said, smoothing a hand over Grace’s hair. “We’ll make him stay and have dinner with us, okay?”

  “You know you never have to ask me twice,” Dillon said.

  Meggie left with a babbling Gracie and disappeared upstairs. Dillon turned back to Justine.

  “I ran into Ian on my way in.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. You okay?”

  Her smile faded and she looked pained. “It’s amazing how fast you go from being a couple to being adversaries. Even when you try to be mature about it, there’s no way it won’t be awkward.”

  “Did he say something to you?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing specific. Just little digs and criticisms. When did he become such an ass?”

  Dillon chuckled. “Don’t ask me. I always thought he was.”

  “You did? You never said so.”

  “Because you were married to the guy. ‘Merry Christmas. And by the way, I hate your husband’.”

  She laughed, a free happy sound, and he was glad to see that any unpleasantness Ian’s visit caused didn’t seem to be long-lasting. Maybe it would always be this way for them now. Short, tense interactions you tried to forget as soon as possible.

  “Wait, did he say something to you?” she asked.

  Dillon shrugged, not wanting to upset her with the details of the conversation. “Just some bullshit male posturing. Nothing to
worry about. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he likes me either.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” she chuckled. His eyes met hers and for a second, there was an acknowledgment of the thing they never talked about. The thing that had always been between them, first on her side, then on his. That was what Ian sensed and hated. Dillon knew he still felt it. He supposed Ian must have known, on some level. Did he know how Justine used to feel about him, too? No wonder the guy hated him.

  Justine inhaled deeply. “So, Steve and Marin are here already. Want to come back and get started?”

  “At your service.”

  She smirked and led the way back to the studio.

  After the session musicians cleared out for the day, Meggie handed Grace back over to Justine and went off the clock until morning, even though she was never farther away than the guest house behind the pool. Dillon sat at the bar in the kitchen playing his acoustic while Justine fed Grace a bowl of pasta and chicken nuggets shaped like stars. He worked on songs for the album, and when Grace got bored, he switched over to Old MacDonald, with Justine singing all the farm animal noises. Grace was delighted and tried to sing along. It reminded him of Justine’s mom, describing Justine doing the same thing at that age.

  “I need to hose her off and get her to bed,” Justine said as she unbuckled the squirming toddler from her booster seat. “I think Steve left some stuff in the fridge for us for dinner if you want to take a look.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Dillon poked through the fridge and found some marinating steaks and foil packets of vegetables already prepped. Personal chefs rocked.

  “Excellent,” he hummed, carting it out to the grill by the pool. By the time Justine came down, he had the grill fired up and the steaks on.

  Justine sighed and stretched her arms over her head. “God, that smells good,” she moaned. The sun was starting to set, turning the back yard gold with late-day light. Her hair glinted with it and her skin glowed with warmth. She looked soft and so touchable. Dillon quickly turned his focus back to the grill.