METHOD

by Kate Stewart

  “Lucas, just because you aren’t well-versed in art or wine, it doesn’t make you not suitable. I meant what I said, you’re one of the most intelligent men I know.”

  He leans in and kisses me, thoroughly before shutting the door. We ride in silence for a few minutes before he speaks up. “I was raised in the outskirts of a town in West Virginia, I told you some of it, but not really the truth. My father did odd jobs to pay the bills but mostly left during the day to get drunk with his buddies. My mother worked at a gas station. To my parents, I was both obligation and nuisance. My dad lived for NASCAR, and my mom lived for my dad. They fought and fucked, and neither was pretty. We lived in a trailer with thin walls and a leaky roof. I slept on the same lumpy twin mattress for sixteen years. I was the kid everyone avoided because I was poor.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “My mom slapped me around a little, but it wasn’t anything I still lose sleep over. She did do it once at school, and that stuck with me. Maddie, she was the one who gave me a mother’s love…” he fumbles a little with his words and I can tell it pains him. “She’s the one who showed me what a mother was supposed to be like, as reluctant as she was.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I had Maddie. I think the universe interjects people in your life for a reason, brief or otherwise, to make up for a few shortcomings, to help make sense of things you can’t figure out.”

  “But, Lucas, you can’t just make decisions for the both of us.”

  “I know.”

  He drives in silence for a few minutes, and before I know it, we’re parked at a duplex.

  “Where are we?”

  “My place.”

  I turn in my seat. “I thought you lived at a hotel when you weren’t working?”

  He blows out a breath. “I lied.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You’re about to see, come on.”

  To say the outside of the town house is meager is an understatement. He guides me through a small fence, and I can see the courtyard is well taken care of, in fact, it’s beautiful. “This is lovely,” I remark, looking at the lush green yard.

  Lucas nods. “Denny does a good job.”

  “He seems like a really nice man.”

  “He owns the town house. I give him extra for yard work.”

  “I’m confused,” I say, pausing on the porch as he pulls out his keys.

  “I know.”

  “I mean this is nice, but it’s…can’t you afford more? You’re renting?”

  “Money talk is rude,” he says with a wink.

  I swallow. “Sorry.”

  “No, this is exactly why I brought you here.” He unlocks the house and pushes the door letting me in ahead of him. I gasp when I see the scarce furnishings. There is no life, barely any personality. There’s a large TV and a recliner in the living room and nothing else. No pictures, nothing that makes the space personal, warm, or inviting.

  I turn to him completely floored. “You live here?”

  He bites his upper lip and nods.

  “What’s upstairs?”

  “Just a bed and necessities.”

  “That’s all?”

  Another nod.

  “Lucas…”

  He leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets.

  “My mom had this legal notepad, and she terrorized me with it.”

  “A legal pad?”

  “Funny how something so ordinary can become the bane of your existence.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, on that legal pad was this list of monthly bills she had to pay and nightly she’d drink about a fifth of brandy and sit me down to tell me exactly how much money we had, and what we didn’t. She would cry, and it scared the shit out of me. We lost our power once for almost a month in the dead of winter, so her fears weren’t that farfetched. Maddie got it turned back on.”

  My eyes are already tearing up.

  “My mom did this, for years and years, always instilling in me that there was never enough money. I guess it made me a little sick too.” He swallows, looking around his house. “That Land Rover you dented tonight is leased, and I don’t have to pay for it.”

  I wince. “I’m sorry.”

  He’s already shaking his head. “That’s not…baby, that’s not why I told you that. I can afford to buy every Land Rover in the state of California and probably several states over. I’ve barely spent any of the money I’ve made off the movies. I’ve been living off the interest, which is plenty.”

  Realization has my chest constricting. “Because you’re scared it’s not enough?”

  “Shit, I know. It’s crazy. I don’t expect you to fully understand, but I hope you’ll try. This is scary for me. I have tens of millions in the bank, and I know how hard it is to wrap your mind around this, but I’m scared to spend a dime.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Does that make me crazy?” Shaking my head with shimmering eyes, I close the space between us.

  “Mila, I don’t want your sympathy, I swear this isn’t what this is about. This is about you understanding me, I don’t know,” he says, scanning his living room, “maybe you can help me let go of it, but…for me, it’s still hard. I was the smelly kid, you know? I was the one that had to steal deodorant from The Family Dollar so I wouldn’t fucking reek after gym. The one with the shredded clothes who took a friend’s hand-me-down sneakers a size too small. I was that kid, and I was okay with that because I never wanted to have to explain myself or my parents. So I was quiet, and I dissolved into whatever color the wall was because it made life easier on me. I’m not upset about it, well not anymore. I use it on the job all the time, and I make a lot of money because I can remember how bad it was, how desperate I felt, how much I just wanted someone to take notice and just once consider me worthy.”

  “God, Lucas, you are, you are so worthy.”

  “It’s okay, Dame. I know that now, to some degree I do know that. But I haven’t felt the way your mother made me feel in a very long time.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He closes the space between us. “Baby, don’t get upset. She saw it, she sniffed out the side of me I’ve been desperately trying to hide from you, and I have no right to ask you to be with me if you don’t know everything. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I thought I could ignore this and when we made our life together, this would be history. I know it’s stupid now, it was stupid to think that.”

  “We don’t lie to each other.”

  “And I’m done. I swear to you, I’m done.”

  “I don’t ever want to meet your parents.” I sniff.

  “You won’t ever have to. That was a whole different life,” he says, shaking his head, his gaze somewhere in the past. “I’m still in aftershock of how drastically things have changed. Of the places I’ve been. Mila, I’m still not fully comfortable in this life. Even when I got to LA, I lived pretty desperately. Blake and I stayed hungry. The last few years have been unreal. I still don’t believe my bank statements.”

  “No one has discovered you live here?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t think anyone would believe it. I have Nova rent it in her name so there’s no record of me anywhere, and I just stay here, and I save.” He peers down at me. “I’ve never considered myself lucky. Like you, I’ve had to work for every single thing I’ve ever gotten. It’s been shitty in the way no one has ever been there for me, but I see the other side of it now.” He swallows, his eyes so gentle as his hands cover me in a caress. “You make me want to let go, take more chances, free myself up. So,” he says, pulling the box from his pocket, “I finally spent a little for a very good reason.”

  Burying my face in my hands, I cry openly in front of him. When I pull my palms away, he’s kneeling in front of me. “I love fighting with you. I love the way you look at me. I love the way it feels when we’re together. I love the silk of your skin, the velvet of your beautiful voice. I love the way you caress my forehead when you think I’m asleep. I l
ove that you take all of the socks out of the dryer and count them. I love that you feel so fucking perfect when I push inside you, the way you moan, the way you come. I love your elf ears, the noises you make after you sip wine. The fact that you pick up pennies, no one does that anymore.” We smile at each other as his eyes water, and his voice clogs with emotion. “I love that you laugh inappropriately when you’re nervous. I love that you’re so smart. I love that, Mila. I love that you’re a natural teacher because I’ve already learned so much from you. I wasn’t ever able to tell you that before because of foolish pride, but you know all of me now. All of me, even the parts I didn’t want you to.

  “I love you,” he says, standing, the ring hooked on his thumb as he takes my face in his hands. “I’m so undeniably in love with you. I want this, I want you to be mine, to make that promise to me. Mine. Forever.”

  I’m a mess, every fiber of my being shaking with the strike of each word. He’s perfect, and he has no idea. That thought keeps running through my head as his love rips through me, striking again and again where it’s intended.

  “I’m already yours.”

  His tearful smile elates me. “Oh, baby, did I fuck this up, but if you can forgive me for this, we’re gold. Mila, will you marry me?”

  Mila

  Stirring the mixture in my bowl, tears escape me at the memory of Lucas’s proposal when the doorbell rings. Quickly I wipe them away before opening the door for my mother who spots the evidence immediately. I can see the worry on her face when she reads mine. “I’m fine, Mom. I just got a little bit sentimental.”

  She lifts her shoulders defensively. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You don’t have to,” I snark behind her as she bounds through the doorway with her typical air of authority scrutinizing our spacious house before turning to me. “Is he here?”

  “No, he’s working. I told you it would just be us.”

  “Your father sends his regrets as well. He’s got some nasty cold.”

  “You told me.”

  “You could call him.” Guilt riddles me. It’s the truth. I’ve been so wrapped up with Lucas and getting my footing back at work that I’ve been completely avoiding my parents. “I’ll call him tonight.” Mom follows me into the kitchen as I wash my hands and then roll up my sleeves. She looks pleased as I pour her some wine and she eyes the ingredients.

  “What’s this?”

  “You know what it is,” I say with a smile. “Yanni, my new boss taught me how to make it for you.”

  “What a lovely surprise. Can I help?”

  “I insist you do,” I say as she rounds the marble countertop and washes her hands. We spend hours drinking wine and talking about simpler times. I can see her worry as she brings up Lucas and I bat the subject away. I’m enjoying the moment, just being her daughter. She tells me a few stories I’d forgotten about when I was younger and when Lucas walks into the kitchen unexpectedly, we both have smiles on our faces. Scowling he looks between us, his expression stern as he greets my mother. “Maïwenn,” he says sharply, and I see her flinch. It takes everything in me not to walk over and pummel him. “Lucas, I wasn’t expecting you home.”

  “Funny, I remember you demanding I come,” he says, his voice full of acid. “Smells great.”

  “Have some,” I grate out, plating the rich meat, vegetables, and heavy cream sauce before I thrust it toward him.

  Eyeing it, he looks directly at my mother with a dead stare before sauntering off. “I’ll eat later. I’ll be in my office.” Anger boiling, I turn to my mother humiliated. “I’m so sorry.”

  She’s paling rapidly as she watches Lucas’s retreating back. “Mila, what’s going on?”

  “He’s just…” I shake my head. “He’s sad about Blake.”

  “And this rudeness comes from his grief?”

  Lucas’s voice bellows from the hall. “You can always leave if you aren’t feeling welcome.”

  I gasp audibly, and my mother pushes past me. I curse as I follow her down the hall. “Have I offended you in some way, Lucas?”

  He turns on his heel, and I can see from the way he’s standing there’s no going back from what he’s about to say.

  “Offending me? Now, why would you think that? Because you ruined your daughter’s wedding by humiliating yourself, or the fact that you think you have some right or some say in her life after?”

  My mother stands her ground. “Silly man, you’re just the husband, I created that human. I have every right to her, as much as you.”

  “Should she invite you into the bedroom too so you can watch, Mom? Will that satisfy you?”

  I feel slapped, and it’s obvious my mother does too. “I’ll forgive you for that, but no more.”

  “Don’t bother,” Lucas says, retreating down the hall before slamming his office door.”

  My mother turns to me, her eyes welling with tears as she pushes past me to grab her purse off the entryway table. “I didn’t know he felt this way.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom, don’t believe it. Don’t…listen to him, he’s not himself.”

  Both of us shriek as Lucas speaks from behind us, leaning against the wall with an empty lowball glass in hand, his eyes as wide as his deviant smile. “Maïwenn, you should believe me.”

  “Lucas, stop! Stop!” I scream just as my mother shuts the front door behind her. I chase her out to her car, and she turns back to me with a small tear running down her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Mila. I’ve felt so guilty for that day for so long. I should have apologized to you both years ago.”

  “Mom, he’s not himself, he’s immersed in this role, and he’s just being…unreasonable. Please come back inside. I’ll talk to him.”

  She starts her car. “It’s best if I leave.”

  “I’ll call you later,” I offer as she pulls away.

  Taking steadying breaths, I do my best to calm down. Minutes later, I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. Maybe she deserved it, but then, not six years after the fact. What Lucas did was just as cutthroat, it was the best revenge. I am just as furious with him as I was with her all those years ago. Slamming the door behind me, I make my way into the hall and see he’s talking on the phone. He didn’t even have the decency to wait on the argument he picked. Heading to the kitchen, I toss the carefully prepared dinner into the sink and start the dishes. Lucas emerges a few minutes later and opens the fridge taking a beer from it. “I’ll take my dinner on the patio.”

  “Your dinner is in the fucking trash. Feed yourself and don’t ever talk to my mother like that again.”

  He lifts a brow. “She deserved a lot worse.”

  “Maybe then, but not now. Your behavior was deplorable, and you two have been civil for years!”

  “Because your husband has made it that way,” he adds easily. “I think it’s about time he stood up for himself as far as that woman is concerned.”

  “That woman?” I say, shaking my head. “Go back to your cave, madman,” I snap testily before glancing up to look at him and what I see when I do, disgusts me. “You think this is funny?”

  “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

  “Don’t you dare!” I say as livid tears threaten. Grabbing my keys off the counter, I move to gather my purse when he catches my wrist and jerks me to him. Our bodies align naturally, but everything else is foreign.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Anywhere but here, with you,” I say, jerking away before fleeing out the door.

  The next morning, I wake up to a red Cartier box on the pillow next to me and am instantly furious. My husband has never bought me a piece of jewelry other than my wedding ring. I walk down the hall with it in my hand never opening the box and find Lucas in the kitchen lifting a coffee cup for a drink. Coffee. The monster in the kitchen is not my husband.

  He eyes me carefully not saying a word. Even Nikki Rayo has redeeming moments in the script. There’s a bit of a romance mixed in with that psychopathic killer, the ma
n in front of me is lost, utterly void of emotion. I throw the box into the trash can next to him and leave him there.

  Listening to the crash of the waves, I decide to sit on our deck and wait him out. He’s probably due at the studio soon, and I don’t want to be anywhere near him. Avoiding his company is definitely not something I’d have ever thought myself capable of.

  The sound of the door sliding open lifts me from where I dwell in a life that now seems so distant, it’s piercing the deepest parts of me. Lucas’s new voice sounds from behind me, kicking my heart into an aimless state.

  “I finally have enough money to get you nice things, and you throw them in the trash?”

  “Fuck off…Nikki,” I mutter into the sea breeze.

  “That’s not nice.” He’s standing directly behind my chair, in a ploy of intimidation I’m no longer playing into.

  “I don’t want to know you,” I say. “At all. So please, just pretend I don’t exist. Can you do that? Take some direction from your wife for once? I don’t want to know you.”

  He circles the chair and squats down in front of me, a killer smile in place. It’s eerie, and it reminds me of someone, probably because he’s someone else. It’s a smile that insinuates that I’m the one being unreasonable, that I’ve imagined his behavior and I’m the crazy one. I’m not buying it, just like I’m not buying into that jewelry. He’s still acting.

  “I work hard for you, you could show some appreciation.” He palms my thigh, and I smack it away. He clenches his fists, his eyes on me as I do anything but give him the attention he’s asking for.

  “I’m under so much pressure,” he says testily. “You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what I had to do to get roles like this.”

  I gawk at him. “I’ve been married to you through enough movies, Lucas, I know exactly what it’s like. I made sure of it. You’ve never gone to these lengths.”

  “I’ve never had to!” His voice rises, and I cower away, not because I’m afraid of him because it’s just not worth it. This conversation is pointless, and I’m no longer open to negotiation. He’s made his point, I have my own to make.