String Beans (The Girls of Beachmont #2) (2 page)

“I really am so
sorry,” she said quietly.

When I turned to
face her, I nodded and she continued her walk of shame. I flopped my body into
the chair and took another long swig of wine as the tears streamed down my
face.

Will finally
stepped outside, freshly showered and wearing his favorite jeans, and sat in
the chair opposite me. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at his
hands like they held answers for him. I was curious. What excuse would he give?
Was there anything he could say that would make me consider
not
maiming him? He finally dropped his
head down and nervously ran his hand over the back of his neck.

“Viola, I fucked
up,” he said before looking up. “Say something. Please?”

As I stared at a spec
on the concrete patio, I shook my head, unable to formulate a sentence. In a
swift movement, Will dropped to his knees and took my face in his hands.

“I love you, Vi.
You know that.”

I closed my eyes
and inhaled a shaky breath. When I opened them, clarity set in and I looked
deep into his eyes.

“No. I thought you
did. But if you loved me, you wouldn’t have done that.”

He removed his
hands from my face and had the audacity to look as if
my
words cut him. Funny, considering that ten minute earlier he’d
had a complete stranger in our bed. He was still in front of me, resting on his
haunches, trying to find something to say.

“How many, Will?
Because I’m pretty sure she’s not the first,” I told him. My foot was bouncing
feverishly while I waited for his answer. I wanted to know, but I also knew the
truth would tear my heart out.

“Vi—” he
started, but I cut him off. I didn’t want to hear numbers.

“Never mind… Just
tell me, was she the first?”

His head dipped
down and there was slight shake, confirming what I hoped wasn’t true. I stood
up and pushed past him, knocking him on his ass. When I got to the door, I
turned to him and wiped my eyes again.

“I’ll be out
tomorrow. You can go somewhere else tonight,” I informed him before locking the
door.

“Vi,” he called out
as he pounded on the door, “let me in.”

I couldn’t tell if
he was mad that he was locked out, or worried that I might ruin the things that
meant most to him. I didn’t care what he felt, because my heart was in the
middle of breaking. My body slid down the length of the door until I was
sitting on the floor. Tears continued to fall in a steady stream while the
afternoon replayed in my head.

How could he do this to me?

“Baby, I love you.
It meant nothing,” he said into the door, and for a split second I considered
opening it, but deep down I knew better. “Let’s just talk about it, okay?”

“There’s nothing to
talk about,” I shouted back, angrily wiping the wetness from my face.

The thought of Will
and sex in my bed—not with me—was enough to make my skin feel like
it was on fire. I looked around the small apartment and everything in it that
made it a “home.” And the biggest part of that home was the ass just outside
the door pleading with me to let him in. I felt like someone had yanked the rug
from beneath me, leaving me raw and questioning everything.

How did I not see it?

The writing must
have been on the wall and I never saw it, or didn’t want to. But in that
moment, when the world as I knew it was crumbling around me, the evidence was
all I saw. Looking back, the pieces started coming together.

A month earlier, Dani had let us stay with her because Will’s new band
had booked a gig in San Diego. She was nursing a broken heart because she and
her boyfriend had hit a rough patch. He was a pro football player who’d been
injured and I’d convinced her that a night out with me was what she needed.

While we were at the club, Dani pointed out some big-chested, scantily
clad woman flirting with Will. While she looked concerned, I wasn’t.

“It happens all the time,” I said with a shrug.

“Vi, that’s not okay,” she said in that mothering tone I was all too
familiar with from her.

“It’s harmless. I trust him,” I answered.

She lifted her chin and I looked over my shoulder. “And it’s harmless
for her to slip him her number?”

The woman walked off and Will lifted the paper in the air, showing it
to me, and I laughed. He made a show of wadding in his hand before throwing it
away. That was all there was to it and I didn’t think about it again.

But later that night at Dani’s place, a piece of paper fell out of his
pocket. I thought nothing of it at the time, but he seemed slightly rattled as
he quickly stooped down to pick it up and smiled.

“You can’t see this.” He winked. “I’m working on a song for you.”

“I’m a fucking
idiot. Song my ass,” I groaned out loud before yelling at the door. “You
cheating asshole!”

I looked around the
room and remembered the wedding picture that had gone missing a few weeks
before. It was the first thing we hung up when we moved in because we wanted a
reminder of our day. We were outside standing next to a tree, me in my white
slip dress and Will in his beige pants and white button-down. It had been the
best day of my life. His smile was electric and we looked so in love.

But when I’d asked
Will where the picture had gone, he said that our next-door neighbor had banged
on the wall to get him to turn down the music—the same neighbor who had
never before made a big deal about the noise that came from our apartment. And I
didn’t question it.

Why didn’t I question it?

Will said the
picture had fallen off the wall, throwing glass everywhere, and he didn’t want
me to hurt myself touching it. He even went so far as to show me the ruins of
the broken frame and said he put the picture in a drawer until we got around to
getting a new one.

The signs were
there, and yet I ignored every one of them. Or maybe they weren’t actually
signs if my blinders were obscuring my view so much that when I looked at him,
all I saw was the dynamic man I married.

There were nights
he came home from the bar and his routine was different. It didn’t alarm me,
and in fact I thought it rather considerate of him. I had no reason not to
trust him. When Will came home from work, he would typically jump in the shower
and rinse the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and stale club from his body before
climbing into bed. Those nights were usually spent with us making love before
settling in for comfortable sleep.

But then it changed.
His showers became longer and he would climb into bed without ever even
attempting to touch me—not even a kiss. When I questioned as to whether
he was okay, he excused it by claiming he was slammed at the bar and really
tired. It all seemed plausible at the time. Then I came to realize he was just
getting
slammed
.

“I can’t believe I
didn’t see it,” I groaned and headed to the kitchen for another glass of wine.
I considered calling Jolie, my best friend, but decided to do a little snooping
around the apartment first.

Aside from the
missing wedding picture and his odd night habits, I didn’t know what I was
looking for. Texts? Naked pictures? Incriminating videos?

Our bedroom was
small, leaving very little room for all of our things. We had boxes stacked high
in the closet, under the bed, and more in storage. Despite living there for a
year, boxes were always noticeable and I figured it would make it easy to spot
anything incriminating.

The first place I
checked was our shared dresser. Rifling through a drawer, I found nothing that
stood out, but I threw everything on the floor anyway, careful to set my own
things aside. I moved to the closet, dragging a chair over so I could reach the
top shelf. The duffel bags tumbled to the floor, barely missing my head, and along
with them a box of condoms and a piece of paper. I picked it up and saw a note
with a lipstick kiss on it.

Enjoyed last night. Call me so
we can do it again.

~Sadie

When I got to the
door, I made sure to latch the chain before opening it and extended my arm,
shoving the paper in his face.

“One of your skanks
forgot this,” I spat angrily.

He grabbed my hand
and I tried to yank it back, but his grip was too firm.

“You’re not really
going to leave me out here all night are you?” he asked, gently rubbing my
hand.

“I don’t care where
you end up, but it’s not going to be in here—with me. I really can’t even
stomach the thought of looking at you.”

“What can I do to
make it up to you?” he begged.

I twisted my wrist
as I tried to pull away and he finally released his hold of me. I shook my hand
gently at my side, trying to rid myself of the touch that seemed to linger on
my skin.

“It will never happen
again.”

That time, I did
look at him. Through the opening of the door, I made eye contact and despite
his words, I didn’t believe him. I shook my head, willing the tears to stay
away and took a deep breath.

“I know it won’t
happen again,” I said confidently. “I won’t let you do this to me again.” He
began to smile and I raised my hand to stop him from saying another word.
“Because I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“Please, Viola,
don’t,” he pleaded softly, and my heart broke. I didn’t know it was capable of
breaking more than it already had.

“It shouldn’t have
happened at all, Will. You did this. And I’m not going to be the girl who
stands by and waits for it to happen again,” I said before slowly shutting the
door.

He was trying to
talk through the door, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear any more false promises
or lame excuses. And I wasn’t in the mood to be the victim. I walked over to
the small speaker next to the TV and plugged in my iPod to blast the music loud
enough to drown out his words before heading to the bedroom.

I was looking at what
I needed to take and how I was going to get it when I remembered the duffel
bags from the closet. I emptied my drawers into a bag until it was bursting at
the seams and moved on to the next bag. When we got married, I had left most of
my things at my parents’ house since we had no room for the majority of my old
things. I had fully embraced the life of an artist and left with only my
clothes, guitar, a few pictures, and high hopes.

Thanks, Will.

Soon, four duffel
bags were loaded and stacked by the front door before I moved to the boxes. I
opened the one labeled ‘Will’s Music’ and emptied the contents, and quickly
replaced it with my own music, books, and important papers. He could have
everything else in the apartment...I didn’t want the memories. As I looked
around, I began to feel the tears pooling, so I grabbed my phone and called the
one person who would cheer me up, if even for just a minute. I turned the music
down so I could hear her and she picked up on the first ring.

“What’s up, Mrs.
Banks?” Jolie said in her usual perky tone.

A lump formed in
the back of my throat and I wasn’t sure if I was going to cry or vomit, but
whatever it was, it made it next to impossible to speak. When I remained silent
she became panicked, her voice rising slightly.

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head as
if she could see me and a whimper escaped me.

“Vi, you’re scaring
me, what’s going on?”

“It’s over,” I
finally managed before turning into a sobbing mess.

“What’s over? Vi,
talk, now.”

“Will. Marriage.
All of it,” I wailed, sinking to my knees as the agonizing pain took over.

“What happened?” Her
tone changed from concern to momma bear in a flash and I was so grateful to
have her.

“He was here with
another woman,” I answered before exhaling loudly as I tried to compose myself.

“Will was with
someone else? In your place?” she asked, her voice going up an octave as she
finished.

“In my bed,” I gritted.
“Another woman in my bed.”

“Where the hell is
he? Let me talk to him. Now.”

I couldn’t help the
small laugh that erupted from me and there was no doubt I was going crazy, but
then again, the whole situation was crazy.

“Are you kidding
me? Is this a stupid joke, because it’s not funny,” she asked, her tone dry and
annoyed.

“No.” I laughed even
harder, only adding more confusion. “I’m totally serious.”

“He cheated on you
and you’re laughing?” she clarified.

“Oh no, I’m pissed
off. But you can’t talk to him,” I informed her.

She was quiet for a
moment and then whispered conspiratorially, “What did you do?”

“Locked his ass out
of the apartment,” I admitted through my laughter.

“You are losing
it,” she said as if I were about to break. Maybe I was. “How long has this been
going on?”

“Isn’t it enough
that it happened once? Which, by the way, is not true. It’s happened several
times. I just caught him this time. Besides, I don’t care how long it’s been
going on.”

“Oh Vi, I’m so
sorry,” she said sadly, and just like that, the tears fell again.

“I’ll be fine. I
promise. But Jolie, I can’t stay here. I can’t play house with someone who’s
screwing around.”

“So?”

“So it’s over. I packed
my stuff and I’m getting out of here.”

“Just like that?
You’re not even going to try to work it out?” she accused, and her words stung.

“Work it out?” I
repeated defensively. “What is there to work out? Maybe I could have
worked it out
if it happened once, but
this is a pattern that for some insane reason I have been unaware of, so
forgive me if I don’t see the need to stick around and
work it out
.”

“I’m sorry,” she
said quietly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you
mean? Because right now, it seems like you’re making me out to be the bad guy
here,” I challenged.

“Are you going to
talk to him? Get some answers?”

“I don’t really
want to hear what he has to say,” I admitted.

His possible answer
scared me most. What if I asked him
why
or
how long it was going on
and it
was my fault? I knew my heart wouldn’t be able to take it. Maybe someday.

“Where are you
going to go?” Jolie asked, careful not to get me worked up again.

I closed my eyes
and thought for a moment. Going home to my parents’ house was not an option for
several reasons, but the biggest was that I didn’t need to hear any lectures
about my marriage. I knew where they stood on that one. I could go back to Beachmont,
but the town carried too many Will memories for me and I wasn’t ready to face
those, either.

“I’ll figure
something out. It’s not like I can pick up and go to L.A. tomorrow.”