by Heather Lin
The media had no business in their personal affairs, but it came with the territory. The break up with Sophie had been Alton’s first real taste of what the paparazzi was capable of, and Monroe selling him out had been the last straw.
Except Madison didn’t believe the girl had been behind it. If Alton said no one else could have done it, she had to believe him, but just yesterday a private conversation between her and Will had been featured on the same gossip website. They’d been in the barn, Beth was gone for the day, and David was in the back pasture fetching the horses. Yet, somehow, the fact they were thinking of moving out of L.A. to give Xan a chance at a more normal life had made it to the homepage.
Madison stood in the dirt aisle of the barn, boots and jeans replacing designer shoes and dresses, as she decided on the best place to start her search. The horses were in their stalls, but she entered each one, feeling between the boards, behind the food and water buckets. She went in the tack room and examined every saddle and bridle. She looked through the groom kits and in food barrels. She climbed the stairs and searched through every bale of hay, checked every crack in the plywood floor. She went back downstairs, peering at the steps as she descended. Nothing.
She kicked the dirt. Maybe she was wrong. But as she began exiting the building, she caught a glimpse of something that didn’t seem quite right—a tiny piece of metal lodged in a crevice between a wooden beam and the aluminum door. That was it. That was what she’d been searching for, hoping for. She threw the device on the ground and stomped on it as hard as she could with the heel of her boot.
The barn was bugged. Whoever was on the other end could hear every conversation that took place near that door since God knows when. Which meant Alton had falsely accused Monroe.
But why had she gone so quietly?
Madison knew Alton, and she knew the last time her friend had been truly happy wasn’t with Sophie. It was with Monroe. She pocketed the disabled bug to show her husband, but first she headed for the kitchen. Elsa was cutting vegetables for lunch and smiled at Madison as she sat down at the counter.
“Hello, Mrs. Avery. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Elsa already had a pot warming by the stove. She poured some into a mug and added milk and sugar. Madison took it gratefully and tasted it before setting the cup down and focusing on the cook.
“Elsa, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”
“Of course. How can I help you?”
“You were close with Monroe, weren’t you?”
“We talked.”
“Did you talk much before she left?”
“You mean before she was let go?”
“Yes. I’m a bit fuzzy on the details. Do you think she’d have an interest in coming back?”
“No, Mrs. Avery. I don’t think so.”
“I don’t think she was guilty of leaking information.”
“I’m very glad to hear that.”
“But I don’t understand why she let Alton believe she’d done it or why she let Ms. Hutter talk her in to resigning.”
Elsa glanced at her, then turned her attention back to the carrots. “Did you ever talk about her past?”
“Not really.”
The cook stopped, wiped her hands on her apron, and opened a drawer beneath the microwave. She pulled out a newspaper and handed it to Madison.
“The reporter listed her location, and she just didn’t feel comfortable with the idea her father might be able to find her.”
Madison looked over the article. The picture was horrific. The information was more so. She met Elsa’s gaze, shocked at the news and unable to find words that might be worthy.
“This came out the same day as the article that solidified Alton’s decision to have her fired,” Elsa explained.
“I see,” Madison said. And she did.
Monroe was going to leave anyway. Alton’s anger and mistrust coming to a head just kept her from having to be the one to say goodbye.
“Do you know where she went?”
“I do.”
“Is it nearby?”
“You might say.”
“Is there any way you would tell me her address?”
Elsa studied Madison carefully. “Under the right circumstances.”
“Thank you, Elsa. Can I take this?”
“Sure.”
Madison downed the rest of her coffee and took the paper upstairs. Her cell phone was by the bed. She kissed Will’s cheek, and he turned from his typing long enough to give her a wink and a smile. She kicked off her boots, stripped off her dirty jeans, and sat on the bed. She found Alton’s number and called him.
“Hello?” he answered in a ragged voice.
“Hi, Alton. I was wondering if you’d like to come out to the farm for a visit.”
“No, thanks.”
“You promised you’d visit before you left for New Zealand.”
“I will. I’ll visit when you get back.”
“We aren’t coming back before you leave.”
“No.”
“Alton, you promised. Xan misses you. And you missed his birthday.”
“Jesus Christ, Mads.” She suppressed a grin. She knew she had him. “Fine, I’ll be there when I can.”
“When is that?”
“In a week? I don’t know. I have prior commitments.”
“You’d better not be blowing us off for one of your little playthings.”
“I’m not. I have to make a few appearances.”
“Okay. See you soon.” Madison ended the call and smiled.
“What was that about?” Will asked.
“Nothing.”
“Are you meddling?”
Madison heard a squeal from the next room, saving her from having to admit her scheme to her husband. “Xan’s awake. Gotta go.”
She pulled on clean pants, kissed his cheek once more, and left the room.
She knew the truth. Soon Alton would, too. And hopefully he wouldn’t screw up his chances at happiness again.
XVI
Alton walked through the Virginia airport, escorted by security. The Applewild truck sat at the curb, but Madison had the good sense to send someone who couldn’t distract him into stupidity this time.
“Hi, there, Mr. Daniels. Let me get your bags,” the friendly cowboy-type offered.
“I’ll get them, thanks.”
He tossed his luggage in the back and slid in the passenger’s seat. The man pulled away from the curb and drove the familiar route to Madison’s farm. Memories, fresh as the day they had happened, assaulted Alton’s mind, making him crave a drink and a smoke.
“Mind if I smoke?” he asked.
“Nope, not at all.”
Alton pulled out a cigarette and hesitated, as if choosing not to light it could somehow keep the memory of Monroe sacred. But it didn’t deserve to be sacred. He cracked the window, lit up, and puffed.
“I’m David, by the way. If you ever want to take a horse out I’d be the man to talk to.”
“Thanks, David.”
The rest of the drive was quiet. The new full-time hand parked in front of Madison’s house.
“I’m guessing you don’t want help with your bags.”
“No, thanks.”
“Enjoy your stay, then.” He grinned and gave the actor a brief salute.
Alton nodded and grabbed his luggage. Madison was waiting for him at the front door, holding Xan and trying to coax the toddler into waving hello.
“Hi, Alton! Glad you could make it.”
Alton hugged Madison and shook Xan’s tiny hand. “Glad to be guilt-tripped.”
“Oh, poo poo. Don’t be like that.”
“Guess I’ll take these up. Same room?”
“Same room. But Ms. Hutter or one of the staff can take your bags.”
“No, I’ll do it.”
“Ugh.” Madison rolled her eyes. “Well, here’s your key. Come down for dinner. Unless you think
Elsa’s going to blab to some magazine about what kind of sauce you like on your steak.”
“You never know.”
Madison rolled her eyes again and took Xan away to play. Alton climbed the stairs and waved to Will through the open bedroom door. He took a shower, changed into fresh clothes, and headed downstairs to the dining room with a wrapped package in his hand. Xan’s face lit up.
“Happy birthday, buddy,” he said, grinning at the boy’s excitement.
The toddler ran around his mother’s chair to retrieve the gift. He grabbed it and then handed it back to Alton. “Open it,” he said.
“Open it what?” Alton teased.
“Please.”
Alton unwrapped it, and Xan took it to show his mother.
“Mr. Potato Head.” She laughed. “Good choice.”
Alton shrugged. “It’s a classic. He’ll be wanting an iPad soon. Or a pony. Oh, wait…”
“Call him spoiled. See if I care.”
Alton grinned and sat next to Will while Madison put Xan in his booster seat. Elsa brought the food and a bottle of wine. That was odd. She was usually home by now.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Daniels,” she greeted.
“You, too, Elsa.”
She made brief eye contact with Madison, making Alton feel as though he was out of the loop about something. He dug into his steak and made small talk with Will. When dinner was finished, Madison asked her husband to put Xan to bed while Elsa cleared the table. Once alone, she clasped her hands together on the table and looked Alton straight in the eye. He had the sudden feeling he’d been called to Applewild for more than just a visit.
“What?” he asked.
“Would you like some tea?”
“If it makes you feel better.”
Madison glanced at Elsa. “Coffee, Elsa, if you don’t mind. And tea for Alton.”
Elsa nodded and returned a moment later with the drinks. Alton toyed with the string of his tea bag, dragging it through the water, suspicious and sulky.
“I want to talk about Monroe.”
He stopped dead and stared at Madison. “No.”
“Alton, if you’d just listen for a minute—”
Alton stood. “No, Madison, I swear to God—”
“Look!” Madison said, standing and rummaging through the drawer of a nearby hutch. “Just look. I just want you to consider the possibility you misunderstood.”
“Madison, stop this. Stop acting like you know me better than I do. Stop matchmaking. Your perfect life just doesn’t happen for everyone.”
“Perfect? It’s not perfect, Alton. I’m not with Will because fairies dance around our heads telling us we’re in love; I’m with him because, every day, I choose to be.”
“Will’s worth it. Monroe isn’t.”
“You never gave her a fighting chance.”
“I gave her three chances! Three of those fucking articles! I saw her talking to a reporter.”
Madison slammed her hand down on the table, and when she took it away, a small piece of metal remained in its place. He looked at it, then at her. He didn’t know what to make of it.
“What is it?”
“It’s a bug, Alton. Someone planted it. They were using it to hear your conversations. I know because they did it to me.”
“Monroe planted it.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“God, Madison, you don’t even know her!” Alton was on the verge of ripping his own hair out. “Why the hell do you even care? What is it to you?”
“She made you happy, Alton. And your life has gone to shit since the day you left here, since the day you left her.”
“So what if it has?”
“You having her fired was completely unfounded.”
“She never denied it. She never said a word.”
“How many times did you ask her to prove herself to you?”
“That first photo wasn’t taken at the barn. It was taken miles from here. How do you explain that?”
“I can’t, but she was in the photo, Alton. Asleep. Exposed. Do you really think she set all that up?”
“This was her home, Madison. She lived here for ten years, but she left without a fight. She had a life here; she had her goddamn horse here. But she left without a fight.”
Madison threw a newspaper down in front of him. “While you were so busy worrying about gossip magazines and your reputation, Monroe was making news of her own. This is why you saw her talking to a reporter. This is why she left without a fight. Have you really become so paranoid and self-obsessed you’ve forgotten that some people actually don’t care? Some people have their own problems? Their own stories?”
Alton looked at the paper. He saw the photo, saw the man being led away in handcuffs and caught sight of a head of blond hair on a stretcher.
Monroe…her father…murder…scars…parole.
He felt the blood drain from his face. He’d been wrong. Very wrong. Madison, as usual, had been right. He’d never even considered how the press could be affecting anyone besides himself.
He glanced at the date. It was the same day he’d blown up and gone to Ms. Hutter. Monroe hadn’t left because she was guilty. She’d left because she was scared. She just hadn’t bothered explaining herself to him, and why should she have? He wouldn’t have believed her.
Guilt and regret overwhelmed him. He finally forced himself to look at Madison. He’d loved Monroe, and he’d traded that for booze and one night stands. His heart threatened to break all over again.
“I made a mistake,” he managed.
“I know. But the thing about mistakes is you can usually find a way to fix them.”
“She could be anywhere.”
“But she’s not.”
Madison glanced toward the kitchen door. Elsa was there, and she nodded to her employer. Then Madison slid the final piece of the puzzle to him—a small piece of paper with an address written in the cook’s handwriting. He stared at it for a long time.
“She won’t want to see me after all this time, after all those women. They didn’t mean anything.”
“You don’t have to convince me.”
Alton slipped the paper into his pocket. “I have to go.”
*
Monroe had music blaring over the noise of her vacuum cleaner, so she couldn’t say for how long someone had been knocking on her door. Still, she took her time getting there, pushing back the ever-present fear that the next person she saw would be her father.
She looked through the peephole and was nearly as shocked to see Alton standing on her stoop. She hadn’t counted on seeing him again, and she didn’t want to. Why was he here? How had he found her? If he could find her, did that mean her father could, too? She hesitated. He knocked again.
“Monroe, it’s me. I know you’re in there. Please let me in. I just want to have a chat.”
She put her eye to the peephole again. That razor stubble was back on his jaw. He didn’t look as if he’d been sleeping well. And she saw something else in those deep brown eyes that made her want to open the door despite her better judgment—guilt, maybe.
“Monroe,” he pleaded again, placing his palm on the door, as if he could feel her through it. Too much had happened in the last few months. What could she possibly accomplish by letting him in?
But she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.
Monroe had been alone in her home, cleaning. If she'd ever thought about how she might want to look in this moment, this wasn't it. She was barefoot in jean cut-offs and an oversized sweater. Her long blond hair was pulled away from her face, and she’d forgotten her glove. She pulled the sleeve down to hide her hand.
“So. How did you find me?” she asked, attempting to keep her voice cool.
He looked miserable, brooding, the same way he’d looked over Sophie when they first met.
“Madison had your address.”
He smelled just the way she remembered, like cigarettes and musky cologne. The scent mu
ddled her brain until she had trouble remembering exactly why things had gone awry between them; she could only recall the laughter they’d shared and the pleasure of his touch. She wondered what Alton saw, what he remembered.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Monroe glanced behind him. She wasn’t sure she wanted him in her home, but having the door open with only a dim light separating her from the darkness made her feel exposed. She nodded and locked the door behind him.
Alton remained standing in front of her, first looking at his toes, then at her long, exposed legs. Finally, his eyes landed on hers. He was anxious. She should have taken a certain amount of joy in that, but, instead, she found her own anxiety growing. His eyes were a storm of emotion—guilt, agony, understanding.
He knew.
“I want to apologize, but that’s just not enough,” he said. “I was so wrapped up in myself. I was waiting for the next betrayal, and I thought…but Madison showed me the article. I know what happened.”
Monroe clenched her fists and turned away. She hated talking about it. It was too easy for him to find out, but a part of her had counted on his self-obsession, on him never knowing just how fucked up her life was or how deep her issues ran.
He grasped her arm and turned her gently around to face him. His eyes skimmed her body again, lingering on her chest and stomach, on every part of her she had never let him see. And now he knew why.
Where was all this leading? What exactly did he want from her? Just to see the freakishness for himself? Her heart beat hard inside her chest. Her body wanted his; her mind wanted him to go; her heart wanted him to stay.
“So what?” she breathed.
“So you never deserved it. It was my fault.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
His eyes locked on hers, and he tentatively reached out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. She let him, trying not to melt, trying to keep in mind all of the drinking and smoking and sleeping around she knew he’d been doing in L.A.
“I love you,” he said.
Her heart stopped. How could he do this? How could he show up on her doorstep after months of nothing, after treating her like a spy, after having her fired? Who did he think he was? She was livid, but at the same time those words were all she’d wanted to hear.
