Beyond Hereafter (The Movie Trilogy Book 3)

by Kimberly Adams

  I waited, finally ringing the doorbell as Greg headed back to the elevator.

  “You just come see me if you need anything at all, Vivian,” he urged.

  “Thank you,” I managed, my voice wavering with tears.

  Charlie fussed a little in her seat but had finally dozed off. I heard the locks sliding on the other side of the door and the moment that I finally saw his face, I gave up.

  He took the handle of the car seat, catching me in his arms.

  I knew that I didn’t have to say anything, but I wanted to. I wanted to scream, to cry, to break down to Luke and tell him all that had just happened and all that was clawing at my chest to get out.

  “What happened to your face?” he asked, pulling away just enough to get a better look at me in the warm lamplight. “Did Keaton do this?” he demanded, turning me so that we stood inside as he closed and locked the door. “Vivian, talk to me! Did he hit you?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, trying to come to terms with my own admission.

  He hit me.

  Keaton hit me.

  The man that I loved more than anything in the world, the one person who I planned to spend my entire life with.

  He lowered Charlie’s car seat to the floor, wrapping both arms around me and cradling the back of my head in his palm.

  My shoulders shook. I couldn’t form words. There were no words for what Keaton had done. The mix of pills and alcohol in his system had changed him into a person that I didn’t know, and the raw vehemence in his eyes when I told him that he was exactly like his father would haunt me for the rest of my life.

  “Shh,” Luke whispered, pulling back again to hold my face in his hands. His eyes raked over me, and he tipped my head up, looking at my neck. His expression darkened with fury as he spoke in with obvious control. “You have marks on your neck, too. Did he do this too?”

  “I... he started drinking and...”

  “I’ll get you some ice for your eye. Let me get Charlie settled, okay? I’ll change her,” he promised, reaching for the diaper bag and leading me toward the couch.

  “I’m okay,” I assured him, brushing at my tears. My face ached where he’d slapped me, and I rolled my shoulders back, straightening. “I’ll get some ice. Thank you so much, Luke... she definitely needs a diaper.”

  “I got her.” He carried her to the living room couch, and I moved to the kitchen, trying to be as efficient as possible as I gathered the ice cubes into a freezer bag.

  Gingerly I pressed the ice to my face, focused on the familiar kitchen. I thought of the many nights that Luke and I had prepared and eaten dinner at the table together, and the way he’d always distract me when I’d start to think about how much I missed Keaton.

  I’d run away.

  I’d thrown my things into a bag, grabbed Charlie, and left in the middle of the night.

  I knew, deep down, that it’d been the combination of substances in his bloodstream that had forced such a violent reaction from him. I knew he’d wake up sorry, so incredibly sorry that my heart would break for him. If what he’d done to me wasn’t a wake-up call to tell him that he needed help, I didn’t know what was.

  But I didn’t stay.

  I was better at running from the hard parts. I convinced myself that it was for Charlie’s safety and my safety, but ultimately, I knew that after he passed out he wasn’t waking up again until he sobered.

  I should have stayed.

  It was my responsibility to be there for him, wasn’t it? In the same way that Matthew was there for me, night after night after our son died, believing that I’d come around, trusting that his patience and presence were enough to support me in the terrible depression I’d fallen into.

  When you loved someone, you stayed.

  Right?

  “She’s sound asleep,” Luke said, crossing the kitchen to me. He reached for the overhead stove light, flipping the switch to inspect my face. His fingers stiffened as he drew a line over my neck. “He hit you so fucking hard. I’m going over there.”

  “He passed out, Luke, don’t bother.”

  “Look at me.”

  I kept my gaze locked on his chest, blinking rapidly at the fresh wave of tears that surfaced.

  “I’m so embarrassed,” I whispered, and he pulled me against his chest, smoothing his wide palm over my hair.

  “You did the right thing. You took Charlie and you went somewhere safe. You have no reason to be embarrassed.”

  “I should have stayed. What if he gets up and tries to... to drive somewhere? Or even walk down the stairs?”

  “I’ll call Frank. He’ll go over there.”

  “No, please don’t tell anyone,” I begged.

  “Frank would want to know. He’ll need to know anyway, since we’ll have to delay filming for a while.”

  I balled his t-shirt in my hands, pressing my forehead to his chest. “He wouldn’t have hit me if it weren’t for the alcohol and the pills. You know that,” I said, muffled into his shirt.

  I knew that.

  His slow exhale was filled with disgust. “I don’t know anything except that you’re standing in my kitchen at three AM with a black eye and bruises on your neck, and my brother did it. That’s what I know.”

  I broke down then, really broke down, and after a moment Luke lifted me into his arms, carrying me toward the bedroom.

  I sobbed tiredly, thankful to feel the cool pillow beneath my cheek. “I said horrible things to him,” I cried. “I told him that he was just like your father. I-”

  “He is exactly like my dad. He’s an alcoholic and an addict, and this isn’t the first time he’s hit rock bottom, Vivian.” He pulled the blankets over me, and I caught the scent of his aftershave, comforted but the familiarity. “But this is the first time he’s hurt someone I care about, and I’m going to make sure that he knows it.”

  Charlie fussed from the living room, and he bent to press a kiss to my hair.

  He left me in the bed and went to care for Charlie. I gripped the cold bag of ice, staring at the door as my eye began to throb.

  So relieved to know that he had Charlie, I curled into a protective ball on my side, giving in to the exhausted sleep.

  . . .

  There were several blissful moments between sleep and awake when everything seemed to make perfect sense. Where nothing was wrong, and your life was exactly what you expected it to be.

  I believed those moments existed to stop you from crying yourself awake.

  I woke up in Luke’s bed alone. I could hear him singing to Charlie in the kitchen, and I winced at the unfamiliar tenderness on my cheek.

  Keaton.

  Falling back to the pillow, I closed my eyes, trying to believe that my memories of what had happened the night before were real.

  The first thing that I wanted to do was call him. I wanted to run back to him. I was trying to decide if that was a step in the right or wrong direction when Luke came in quietly, carrying Charlie on his hip.

  “There’s Mommy,” he said cheerfully. “She’s awake.”

  His sleep-tousled hair was finger-combed away from his forehead, and I guessed that he’d gotten very little rest caring for Charlie. Charlie saw me and kicked with excitement, and I held my arms out for her. Luke lowered her to the bed and tucked the covers around us, laying down with her between us.

  I pressed my cheek against the pillow, closing my eyes tightly for a long moment as Charlie cooed.

  Finally, I met his expectant eyes. “Did Keaton call?”

  He drew his index finger over Charlie’s tiny, button nose, not meeting my eyes. “He wanted to. Frank told him no.”

  “Frank told Keaton no? I doubt that went over very well.”

  He said nothing, only lifting his eyes to mine. I sighed, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s head as he reached for my cheek.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked finally, peering at my bruised cheekbone.

  I closed my eyes. “Yeah.”

  He exhaled slowly, and I k
new that he was struggling to control his temper. He wasn’t one to fly of the handle like Keaton, but if he got fired up enough, there was no holding him back. “Do you want to file a police report?”

  My eyes popped open, and I gripped Charlie closer to my chest. “No... absolutely not,” I protested.

  “You want to stay here until he gets his sh- stuff together again.”

  I loved the way that he censored his words for Charlie, but couldn’t help but feel that his offer was more of an accusation than a question. “Can I?”

  He narrowed his eyes, wrapping his arm around Charlie, too. She squirmed, sighing sweetly between the both of us. “I don’t think it’s a great idea,” he began. “With the way that Keaton already feels about me, you staying here might make things worse. And if you still want him, and you want him to change and get better, I want to help. You living with me isn’t helping.”

  I considered his words, pulling back to tuck my hands between my cheek and the pillow. I was used to being in charge when I was with Luke, and it was rare that he took the initiative to make a decision between us.

  “Do you want to help him?” I asked softly.

  He nodded without hesitation, letting Charlie grip his fingers. “I love all three of you. I want to help in any way that I can.”

  I reached for him, sliding my hand over his shoulder. “I love you too, Luke.”

  He said nothing, only turning onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “There’s the guest house at the mansion. If you feel comfortable enough there, I can arrange to have the locks changed.”

  I considered his words for a few long moments until finally lifting my eyes to his. “I’d rather stay here with you. Please. Whatever paranoia that Keaton is feeling is from his pain and the addiction to the pills... I know this isn’t the real him. I feel like I know him, Luke.”

  He reached for my hair, smoothing a long strand between his fingers. “Vivie, what I said last night... I meant. And because I have these feelings for you, it makes you staying here wrong. I won’t do that to you- put you in that position...”

  I listened to his words, recognizing the battle going on in his heart.

  Clarity reached out of thin air, grasping me by the neck and nearly shaking me with a force that I wasn’t prepared for. I took stock in all that Luke was saying, in all that I was saying, and saw the last few years of my life tumble through my memories.

  I had loved Matthew.

  Keaton was new, exciting, and my lust for him burned into a love that I had been absolutely sure of- until that very moment. Ultimately, it was Rory and Charlie that had solidified my decision to be with each of them. Taking Charlie out of the equation, I tried to determine if, after what Keaton had done to me, I’d have stayed at home with him the night before.

  Charlie sighed softly and closed her eyes, and I felt the heaviness of Luke’s emotions thick in the air between us.

  “I don’t know what I want anymore,” I finally whispered to Luke, and my admission felt like a million pound weight had lifted off my chest. Tears burned, and I turned my head on the pillow just as Luke turned to face me. “I feel like I should be alone right now, even though Keaton needs me-”

  “Keaton needs professional help,” Luke argued gently. “He needs to want help. He’s hurting you, Vivie. He’s been hurting you on the inside for a while now, and now he did something so others can see how he’s treating you, too.” He reached for my face, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone in a feathery caress. “Let me put Charlie down for her nap, I’ll be right back.”

  I nodded, reaching for a strand of my hair to twist into complicated knots. I watched Luke carry Charlie from the room, watched him cradle her lovingly in his arms as he made his way to the door.

  It was all too much, too overwhelming, and every part of me wanted to run. Run, maybe back to Gram’s, or somewhere completely new where Charlie and I could be together, away from Hollywood and...

  Keaton.

  I was afraid. I kept seeing his eyes- those wide, hazel eyes wild with fury as his hands tightened around my neck. I gasped, trying so hard to hold back a sob just as Luke returned.

  Somewhere in my panic he managed to lie down behind me, pulling me into his arms. At that moment, there was nowhere else I’d rather be than in our apartment, in what used to be my room...

  In Luke’s arms.

  “I need you,” I finally cried, turning my face into my pillow.

  He ran his hand over my hair, moving his mouth to my ear. “What do you mean, you need me?”

  “I just need you,” I breathed. “All these months, living here with you... I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life.”

  “Vivian,” Luke murmured, the pressure of his fingertips tightening over my hip. His breath was hot against my ear as his hand slid over my side. “You can’t stay here.”

  “How can I love Keaton if I’m afraid of him?” I managed, wiping at my tears. “I can’t... I can’t trust him, I...”

  Luke pulled me closer, turning me so that I lay on my back. I exhaled as his mouth found mine, his hands moving to tenderly cup my face. When his tongue dove, tangling with mine, I cried out softly, bracing my hands against his shoulders

  “Kiss me back,” he whispered, his hips fitting tightly against mine. With every thrust of his tongue, he pressed himself against me, and jolts of warning shot through me.

  “This...is wrong, Luke, stop. Please stop.”

  He pulled back long enough to tug his shirt over his head. I drank in his muscled chest, appreciating his familiar lines that I’d come to know after seeing him roam the apartment shirtless so often. He eagerly returned to my lips, sliding his arm around my waist to lift me up and against him.

  “You’re safe with me,” he promised, stilling for a long moment. After a deep sigh, he poised just over my forehead, lowering to kiss me there. “I’ll stop. I want to be your safe place, not make you want to run.”

  As though he was reading my mind, he threaded his fingers through my hair to cup my head in his hand. His dark eyes met mine, locking my gaze.

  “Thank you,” I breathed, shaken from the way his kiss had seemed so oddly familiar, and not in a good way. My stomach churned, and anxiety took over full-force.

  “You can stay,” he added. “I already crossed the line. There’s no taking back what I just did to my brother. I want you here.”

  The line.

  I shifted beneath Luke’s weight, reality seizing the moment between us.

  No... no...

  “This doesn’t feel right,” I began. “Not just the circumstances. Kissing you doesn’t feel right, Luke. I don’t want you that way.”

  Luke gazed down at me, knitting his brows and concentrating on my gaze.

  Finally, he shifted his weight off of me completely, falling back to stare at the ceiling. After a long, low breath, he turned to face me.

  “It really doesn’t. I not only disrespected you and Keaton, but I made it weird. I can’t believe how weird it felt. You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized-” He stopped short, and I cringed. He gave me an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry, Vivie. I’m standing by you and protecting you and Charlie. I won’t touch you again.”

  “You’re incredibly attractive- it’s not that- it’s just-”

  “It’s just like I made out with my sister.”

  I winced. “Kind of. Yes.”

  “And there’s nothing hot about that.”

  “Nope. Agreed.”

  We both sighed deeply in unison, and then chuckled. He laced his fingers through mine, squeezing.

  “I’m glad we figured this out,” he said.

  I could only nod, sniffling and lifting my eyes to stare out at the hazy Los Angeles morning. He pulled me into his arms, and I felt safe for the first time in a long time.

  Eight Weeks Later

  Starting Over

  K

  “Cut.” The collective groan from the cast of extras did not fall on deaf ears. The old me wo
uld have snapped at them all through my megaphone, but the new, improved Keaton held his palm up flat, nodding. “I appreciate your patience. You’re all doing great, but the lighting is wrong for the time of day. Shadows are hard to fix later. Thanks.”

  “... good call. I knew something was off,” Max agreed, gesturing to the cup of coffee on the table in front of us. “Want another one?”

  “No, I’m good.” I glanced at my watch again, anxiously tapping my thumb against the clipboard. “You’re sure she’s on set?”

  He sighed, nodding and lifting his own coffee cup to his lips. “Yes, she’s in make-up. Which is where you need to be if we’re going to shoot the inside of the castle today at all.”

  I was on location in Chambord, France, at the majestic Chateau de Chambord, ready to direct and star in what I hoped to be the blockbuster of my career, and all I could think about was seeing Vivian for the first time in almost two months.

  After I’d voluntarily checked myself into rehab, I’d stopped calling Vivian. The pain took over my mental state and that, in combination with the detox, left me in a place that I didn’t want Vivian to ever see me in. On the third day, I got a simple text from her that settled my nerves and gave me the strength to complete the treatment.

  V: I love you, Keaton. Goddamnit.

  Our inside joke in combination with those three, simple, monumental words left me to believe that she wouldn’t sleep with Luke. She loved me even though I’d hurt her and betrayed her, and maybe she was willing to forgive me once I no longer was influenced by the alcohol and pain pills.

  Maybe.

  Once the therapy began, I was handed over to a shrink who actually made some sense. He rolled his eyes at my “possessive personality disorder” and chucked my file across the desk between us.

  “Shitty father, shitty first marriage, cheated on, abandonment issues, yada yada yada. I could go on, but I think I know you don’t tolerate bullshit.” Dr. Fellenstein gestured to my shoulder. “Pain hurts. Pills make the pain go away. More pills make all the stress go away, so-easy way out. My job will be to help you do the hard work. You in?”