“I believe there’s a pinot noir on the top rack that would go great with this.” Rather than watch him, she was busy plating their food and making sure it was all perfect.
Matt grinned before grabbing the bottle. When he turned around, there was an electronic opener on the counter.
“It makes things easier,” she said. Again, without watching him to make sure he was doing what she’d asked, Vivienne walked over and put their plates on the table and then went back for their salad bowls. Matt joined her a minute later and put the opened bottle of wine on the table, rather than pouring it right away.
Then, in a move that surprised even him, he walked over and held out Vivienne’s chair for her so she could sit.
“Wow,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
He grinned. “Believe it or not, I do have manners.” Stepping away from the chair after he gently tucked her in, he stepped around and took a seat. “This all looks and smells amazing.”
“Thanks.” She blushed.
Taking his first bite, he moaned with delight. “Holy shit is this good.”
Beside him, Vivienne burst out laughing.
“What?” he asked with a grin. “What did I say?”
“That was probably the best compliment I’ve ever had on my cooking.”
“Probably not the most eloquent thing I’ve ever said, but it’s the truth, Viv. Seriously, this is fantastic.” He took another bite and then motioned to the wine. “Want me to pour?”
She nodded.
“So you work from home and you cook for it. I know I’m only confirming what you pointed out a few minutes ago, but what kind of job allows you to do this?”
With a smile, she took a taste of her dinner before answering. “I’m an assistant editor for an online lifestyle magazine.”
He paled for a moment. “A…a magazine?”
Vivienne shook her head. “It’s not an entertainment magazine, per se. It’s a lifestyle publication. I deal with all of the food. For years, I was a food blogger, but it wasn’t paying the bills. Now I can combine the things I love without worrying so much about finances.”
Matt picked up his glass and studied her. “Okay, this time you are going to have to cut me some slack because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She rolled her eyes—not with annoyance, but amusement. “You’ve heard of the Internet right?”
“Ha-ha. Very funny,” he deadpanned.
“Okay, well, nowadays people read their magazines online. Food blogging was a way for me to get my thoughts and ideas and recipes out there to share with people. I had sponsors for the blog and it was fun, but it was a lot of pressure on me because you have to be…amazing to get noticed.”
“Amazing how?”
“Well, for starters, you have to love food. I mean like seriously love it and be passionate about it.”
“People are passionate about their food?” he asked, not convinced there was such a thing.
Vivienne nodded. “Oh yeah. You have to have an appreciation for it and the presentation.”
He leaned forward. “So, how it looks on the plate, right?”
“Very good.” She nodded and picked up her own glass and took a sip. “Ooh, that’s good. It’s more than just looking right on the plate, though. It’s about colors and textures and making people who are seeing it in a picture feel like they can taste it.”
“Sounds like a lot of effort.”
“It is. I’ve always enjoyed cooking, but I haven’t gone to culinary school or anything. I’m pretty good at following recipes though. I majored in journalism in college, and photography was always a hobby so…it’s kind of cool how I can combine all those things together.”
“You take the pictures yourself?”
She nodded. “Have to. To keep costs down, I had to be a one-woman show. I didn’t mind. With everything being digital now, it’s not too hard to do. Believe me, I couldn’t compete with professionals on any level, but I think I do okay.”
“If this is the kind of stuff you’re putting together, you’re doing more than okay.” He took another bite of his food. “I’d love to see some of the photos you’ve done.” Then it hit him—he glanced around and saw the all of the framed photos on the wall. Some were of family, some were of nature, but the ones closest to the kitchen were of food. His gaze returned to hers. “You took all of these?”
“Sure did,” she proudly replied. “I invested in a quality printer—one that can handle some of the larger sizes—and do most of the printing myself. Sometimes I let the professionals handle the matting and framing, but only on the big ones, like the picture of the lake over above the sofa.”
He turned and couldn’t help but be impressed. “Damn, Viv. That’s stunning.” He turned back to her. “And you do all of this from home? By yourself?”
She nodded.
Matt continued to look around the room. “You’ve got serious talent. Have you ever thought of displaying your stuff anywhere? A gallery? Or online for people to purchase?”
“Oh…that’s not for me,” she said a bit shyly. “The pictures I take are more for my own pleasure. I don’t think there’s anything I can create that people would want to hang in their homes.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, turning back around to face her. “I could totally see some of your food pictures that you’ve got in the kitchen in some fancy restaurant. Or the picture over there of the sunset on the beach? It would look fabulous in anyone’s house.” He paused and took a sip of his wine. “You should think about it.”
She shook her head. “I think I’ve got enough on my plate with the job. Working from home means I have to be very disciplined. I can’t afford to take on too many side projects.”
“But you do like it, right? Working from home?”
“It’s great. No one breathing down my neck, I make my own deadlines, and I have creative control.” She paused. “Well, now I have a little more pressure since taking the assistant editor position, but I still get to set the schedule.”
“I don’t think I’d be able to work for myself,” he said with a chuckle.
“How come?”
“I’m not disciplined enough,” he admitted honestly.
“Oh, come on,” she said softly. “I would think you’d have to be disciplined to live the lifestyle you do.”
Matt shook his head. “People tell me where I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to do and say, what to wear…” He shrugged. “I didn’t notice it until now, when I have some downtime and everything around me is going to shit because I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing.”
She looked like she was about to say something and then thought better of it and went back to focusing on her meal. They ate the remainder of it in silence. When they were done, Matt stood and began clearing the table. “You don’t have to do that,” Vivienne said, coming to her feet.
“No, no, no. You cooked. I can clean up.” Then he looked around the kitchen. “Besides, it looks like you cleaned up as you went along because the only things out here are the things we used.” He smiled. “Even I can handle that.”
Picking up her wine and taking a sip, she smiled and relaxed in her seat. “Then I’m going to let you.” For a moment, she simply let him do his thing. “So have you been online today?”
“Uh-uh,” he replied from across the room. “Why?” He had a feeling she’d seen something about him and was testing the waters.
“No reason,” she said quickly and returned her focus to her drink.
“Viv…”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
He shut the dishwasher with a little too much force and cringed for a moment. Screw it, he thought. Stalking across the kitchen, he came to stand in front of her. “Come on. Out with it. You saw something online. What was it?”
When she didn’t answer right away, Matt’s stomach sank. Shit. Things were supposed to be getting better. He’d stayed out of sight and done nothing to draw any attention to himself. Why the hell couldn’t he catch a break here? He huffed with agitation and raked a hand through his already unkempt hair. “Viv?”
She looked up at him, brown eyes filled with pity, and he wanted to curse. He wanted to throw something. But more than that, he wanted to demand she not pity him.
“Matt, just…let it go. It was nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Jumping to her feet, Vivienne put her glass down and walked to the kitchen. “I have some apricot tartlets for dessert. Would you like to try one? I may even have some vanilla ice cream to go with them.”
He was practically on top of her in the blink of an eye, spinning her around to face him. “Tell me, dammit! What did you see? What did you read? What are those vultures saying now?”
For a minute, he couldn’t believe he even cared. The vultures had been circling and picking at him for weeks. He should have been used to it. He shouldn’t want to know, because it didn’t matter; he knew the truth. And yet…
“They’re speculating about where you are and about…your mental health,” she said quietly, refusing to look him in the eye. Busying herself with the dessert, she put some distance between them. “I had read something about it when you first got here, but I thought they had let it go. Today…well…it was on one of the entertainment sites.”
Cursing loudly and colorfully, Matt stalked across the room and began to pace. “My mental health? What the hell does that even mean? Do they think I’m depressed? Am I on suicide watch?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Oh, they’d love that! The world likes nothing more than to watch people on their way down. Bastards!”
“Matt.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vivienne walking toward him, but he was too upset at the moment—too raw—to have a rational conversation. Without a word, he spun and stalked out the door.
* * *
“Well, that went well,” Vivienne murmured to herself. With a sigh, she went back to the kitchen and put the tartlets on one plate and covered them.
What was she supposed to do? Maybe she shouldn’t have brought up the rumors swirling about him, but…it had just slipped out! At some point, Matt was going to have to stop hiding and face the fact that he wasn’t immune to gossip and speculation, and one day, he was going to have to go out in public again and deal with it.
Obviously, he wasn’t at that point yet.
She hated how dinner had ended. With a weary sigh, she figured she’d been the one to start this, she might as well see it through to the end. Matt clearly needed a friend, needed to know someone was in his corner and believed in him—someone to help him see things were going to get better.
It felt like she was walking to her own execution.
Halfway across the yard, she stopped to consider her actions. Maybe it was wrong to go in there and push. Maybe Matt needed blow off some steam.
Or maybe he really was suicidal and the reports were right.
“Dammit. Now I’m believing the nonsense,” she huffed and continued making her way to Aaron’s back door. She didn’t bother to knock, and as soon as she stepped inside, she found him flat on his back on the floor in the middle of the living room. “Oh my God! Matt!” she cried and ran to his side, dropping to her knees beside him. “Please be okay! Please be okay!”
Her hands were on his face and fear had her by the throat when he opened his eyes. Green eyes blazed with anger as they met hers. Matt smacked her hand away as he sat up. “You believed them!” he shouted accusingly, coming to his feet. “You freaking believed what you read today! Dammit, Viv! What the hell?”
It took a moment for her heart rate to return to normal as she sat back on her heels. It was foolish to believe he would harm himself—or that he had managed to do it in the five minutes since she’d last seen him.
But he had scared the hell out of her for a brief moment.
Slowly, she came to her feet and stood her ground. “You know what? Yes. For one second, I did. I came in here and found you on the floor, not moving, with your eyes closed. What was I supposed to think?”
“I don’t know, maybe that I was just trying to calm down? Geez! Do you honestly think I’d kill myself over a stupid show? Over bad reviews?”
“Why not?” she yelled back. “You’re locked up here having a damn pity party over them! And I don’t know you well enough to know what your state of mind is. For all I know, you’re holed up in here all day drinking or taking stuff to numb the pain. It’s what guys like you do, isn’t it?”
His eyes went wide and then narrowed significantly. “Guys like me?” he snarled.
Okay, not the best thing to say when trying to calm someone down, she told herself, but there was no way to take it back. “Oh please. Don’t even try to tell me you don’t drink or never did drugs because it would be insulting to us both.”
He took a menacing step toward her. “Sweetheart, you don’t know anything about me.”
“You’re a drinker. Jack Daniels. Right out of the bottle,” she spat at him accusingly.
And then it hit her what she’d done. There was no way she could know that—at least not that Matt was seemingly aware of. She looked at him and tried to keep her expression neutral, but she saw the suspicion on his face.
“I’ve seen pictures of you,” she said quickly, defiantly. “So don’t bother denying it.” Plus, I’ve been alone with you in your dressing room and tasted it on your breath when you kissed me into oblivion.
“Fine. I drink,” he sneered and then stopped and let out a ragged sigh. “At least…I used to. I haven’t had a bender in…two years.” He paused and took several deep breaths before he continued. “I’m not going to apologize or explain my actions to you, Vivienne. It’s not a crime to drink. When I realized it was becoming a crutch, a problem, I stopped. Not completely,” he quickly added. “I just know my limitations now. I can have a beer or a glass of wine and stop there. It’s a choice, and I’m very lucky I don’t have an addiction.”
She nodded as understanding dawned on her. On top of the weight of this scandal—or semi-scandal—hanging over him, he was also struggling with other demons. He was strong and wanted to remain so, but sooner or later, he was going to break. Taking a tentative step toward him, she sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said gruffly. “And it’s not your battle. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“No, but…I shouldn’t have brought it up. We were having a nice evening, and I ruined it. Again, I’m sorry.”
Matt’s gaze remained hard for a moment longer, and then he seemed to relax a bit. A long sigh was his immediate response, but Vivienne had a feeling he was searching for something to say. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now. And I can’t figure out why I’m not.”
I don’t want to touch that statement with a ten-foot pole was the first thing to enter her mind. And as much as it pained her, she remained silent.
“It’s ego,” he said and then walked over and flopped down on the sofa. “And I hate it. I always hated guys who were so damn wrapped up in themselves they thought they could do no wrong.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Turns out I’m one of them.”
Another statement she was biting her tongue on.
“How can I make it go away?” Matt shook his head. “Not the rumors and speculation—I can’t stop people from talking—but the feelings. How the hell do I stop letting those things get to me? How do I stop taking it personally?”
“By proving them wrong,” she said before she could stop herself. Her hand instantly went up to cover her mouth and she mumbled, “Sorry.”
Matt studied her for a moment and then held out his hand to her. Vivienne had no idea what to do because she had a feeling touching
him was the worst thing she could do—it might crumble her resolve, or he’d be able to see how much she was attracted to him. So she simply stared at his hand.
“Um…Viv?”
“Oh…right,” she mumbled and forced herself to sit down at the opposite end of the sofa—without touching him.
He frowned. Deeply. Almost scowled. Then he threw his head back against the cushions and growled. “See? Even you think I’m scum.”
Great.
“No I don’t,” she said, but it even sounded weak to her ears.
“Right. That’s why you’re sitting practically on the other side of the room and looked at my hand as if touching me was repulsive.” He cursed. “When did I become this guy? This…completely self-absorbed jackass?”
Two years ago, she wanted to say, and then stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Her inner dialogue was almost getting too hard to control.
“Look, Matt,” she began casually, “most of us don’t realize we’re changing. You spent a lot of years with people catering to your every whim. I’m sure, given the chance, most people would change. You now have the opportunity to see the change and decide which version of yourself you want to be. I bet a lot of people wish they could have done that before they were too far gone.”
“What if I’m already too far gone?”
“You’re not,” she replied softly. “You’re sitting here and telling me what you see in yourself. If you were really too far gone, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” She paused. “Now you can be whatever kind of guy you want. It’s up to you.”
He straightened and looked her directly in the eye, his expression less angry and more pleading. “I’d like to be the kind of guy you don’t cringe away from.”
Well, damn. “I didn’t cringe,” she said, going for light and teasing. She even forced herself to grin.
Rather than speak, he simply held out his hand again. His gaze held hers as he waited.
There wasn’t an option. Doing her best to have no reaction at all, Vivienne stood and walked toward him and placed her hand in his.
This Is Our Song Page 36
