Just Kiss Me (24 page)

His eyes turned dark even as his cheeks paled. “I love you and you said you love me, Vivien.”

God, he was a better actor than most the men she knew in Hollywood, but not better than her. “I lied.” With her heart and her life broken, she asked, “How does it feel, Henry?”

IT FELT LIKE
shit and got a whole lot shittier. Now that the family skeletons were out of the closet and littered all over the ground, there was one person left who needed to know the truth. Who needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth. The horse being Nonnie.

“It’s your secret.” Henry looked at his mother across the room lounging on their great-grandmother’s peach fainting couch. She wasn’t fooling anyone. The woman had never fainted in her life. “You tell him.”

Spence looked from one to the other. “What secret?”

It had taken Henry most of the day and half the night, but he’d finally found his brother at the Griffon Pub near Waterfront Park, drinking River Dog beer and eating nachos. Now that Vivien knew the truth, it was past time for Spencer to know, too.

After a search of the ground floor, they’d found their mother in the sitting room off the master suite, wearing her evening caftan and steadily drinking wine. They sat on one of her couches, a family heirloom from a gaudy era and as uncomfortable as hell. Instead of answering, Nonnie raised a glass filled with French Bordeaux to her lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re dying.” Spence turned back to Henry and had real concern in his blue eyes. “She can’t be dying! She’s too tough to die.”

Henry frowned. “She’s not dying.”

“If you want him to know so badly,” Nonnie finally said, “you tell him.” He’d never known his mother to cower from anything. Until tonight. Her eyes were pinched and she’d been drinking more than normal, yet the wine failed to give her liquid courage.

“I never wanted to keep your secrets in the first place.”

“Tell me what?” Spence demanded.

“Secrets always get out.” Henry kept his gaze on his mother but pointed to his brother next to him on the couch. “And look what happens.”

Nonnie lowered her glass. “None of this would be happening if not for Vivien.”

“Vivien? What does Vivien have to do with your secrets?”

Neither bothered to answer Spence. “This isn’t Vivien’s fault.” When he and Spence had pulled into the driveway, he couldn’t help but notice that the carriage house was dark inside and the porch light off. “She’s a victim as much as Spence. More, in fact.”

“What the hell is going on?” Spence demanded.

Resigned, Henry turned and looked at his brother. “Have you ever wondered why Macy Jane and Vivien lived in the carriage house in our backyard?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Someone had to live there.”

Which confirmed what Henry had always suspected of his brother. Spence’s thoughts ran as deep as a puddle.

“They lived there because …” He paused a moment and tried to think of a way to say, “Vivien is your sister.”

Spence looked at him for several seconds. “You dragged me away from the bar just to pull my leg?”

“I’m not pulling your leg. The reason Macy Jane and Vivien lived in the carriage house is because Vivien is Fredrickk Shuler’s daughter.”

“The hell you say?” He looked at his mother. “Did you know this?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Since nineteen-eighty-five.”

“God damn.” Spence collapsed against the back of the couch. “When did you find out we have a sister?”

“She’s not my sister. She’s yours.”

“If she’s my sister, she’s your—”

“Fredrickk Shuler wasn’t my biological father.”

Spence got that look in his eyes, the one Vivien had earlier, confusion bordering on mental collapse. It was understandable. “Who is your father?”

“A cabinetmaker mother hooked up with—”

“—Henry—”

“—He wasn’t good enough to marry a St. Cecilia debutante, so she paid Fredrickk to marry her.”

“I didn’t pay Fred.” His mother had the nerve to sound indignant. “Talking about money is vulgar.”

“How long have you known?” Spence sound deflated. “About my father and your father and … everything.”

“I figured it out when I was ten, when we charted our family blood types in school.”

“And you never told me?”

Henry turned his gaze across the room to his mother sipping her wine. “No.”

“When did you find out about Vivien?”

“The same time I found out about Fredrickk.”

“What?” Spence jumped to his feet, suddenly agitated as if Henry had committed the bigger sin. “You knew about that, too, and didn’t tell me?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I didn’t tell you.”

“Does Vivien know?”

“She does now.” And she wasn’t home and not answering his texts.

“Jesus Christ! I almost had sex with my sister.”

Now he was exaggerating. “You didn’t almost have sex with Vivien.”

“I tried!”

“Trying and getting it done are two different things.”

“Wait.” Spencer held up a hand like a traffic cop. “That’s why you took her away the day of Macy Jane’s funeral. I thought you cock blocked me because you were interested in her, but that wasn’t it.”

He’d been interested. “Mother was concerned that you’d slide your hand all the way up Vivien’s thigh to the underwear.”

Spence’s jaw dropped a bit. “And you didn’t think that maybe it would have been better to say, ‘Hey Spence, don’t slide your hand up your sister’s thigh?’ You thought lying and scheming was better than telling me the truth?”

“Not the time or place.”

“What about before?”

“Before what?”

“I don’t know, Henry. Maybe at some point before tonight you could have found the time to tell me the dirty family secret.”

“It was not my secret to tell.” Just his to keep. “That was for Mother and Macy Jane to decide.”

“That’s bullshit.” Spence looked from Henry to Nonnie, then back again. Then he said something that blew Henry’s puddle theory out of the water. Sort of. “I’m not surprised that she kept secrets from me. She is who she is. Leopards don’t change their spots. They think they don’t have to because they think they’re better than all the other cats on the Serengeti.” He pointed at Henry. “But you. You’re my brother and we’ve always looked out for each other. I’ve always looked up to you, Henry. You always knew the answers and the right thing to do. You were always the good son. The strong one. The Eagle Scout. The guy who graduated summa cum laude from Princeton but never acted like he was better than anyone else.” He shook his head. “I’m looking at you now, and you’re not the person I thought I knew.” He swallowed hard. “Who are you?”

Vivien had said the same thing. “I’m the guy who had to take on a load of shit at an early age and carry it all my life.” Henry rose to his feet. “I’m the guy who laughed with you and helped you with your homework and watched out for you so you weren’t bullied at school. I’m the brother who hunted and fished with you and made sure you didn’t drown in the ocean.” He put a hand on his chest. “I’m the one who had to be responsible so you could be reckless. The guy who’s had to take care of everyone and everything. Not you, Spence. Me.”

Spence shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how you justify it to yourself, you were dead wrong to keep the truth from me. I can understand why you couldn’t tell me when we were kids. I understand why you had to do what she told you to do, but now …” He looked at Nonnie then back at Henry. “All these years, Henry. All these years you could have told me, but you didn’t because you’re so used to keeping secrets. You’re so used to toeing the family line no matter who gets hurt. You just follow Mother’s orders without question.”

“Not without question, Spence.” His jaw tightened at the truth of his brother’s words. “I’ve questioned the right and wrong of a lot things in my life. Things you don’t even know about because when it gets right down to it, you don’t want to know.”

Spence shook his head. “If you believe that, you’re more messed up than I am.”

HENRY’S LIFE WAS
a mess and getting messier by the day. He couldn’t find Vivien and she wasn’t returning his texts or phone calls. She hadn’t been back to the carriage house since the day he’d told her that he loved her and she’d thrown it back in his face. He didn’t have her e-mail address or any of her assistant’s information. She’d mentioned once that she lived in the Hollywood Hills; her neighborhood secured by guarded gates. He was fairly certain he could get past the gates, not that it mattered. Vivien was in New York filming her Dorothy Parker movie. Security would be extremely tight, and he was fairly certain he couldn’t get past the muscle heads surrounding her.

Sawdust swirled around him as he fed a four-foot cedar plank through his ripsaw. The chain-driven blade chewed a line dead center. A pair of orange earplugs muffled shrill sounds around him, and the simple paper facemask kept the dust from his lungs. Several feet away, Hoyt fed a length of reclaimed oak across the joiner.

Lately, Henry had bid on quite a few jobs that involved wood reclaimed from dilapidated barns and uninhabitable buildings. A few months ago, he’d bought an old grange hall in Richland County. He’d taken up the pine dance floor and ripped out the old cabinets. Once the wood was refurbished, he’d put it in a restoration project in Smalls Alley.

Henry shut off the power to the ripsaw and reached for the cedar, now cut into equal widths. Vivien would have to come back to Charleston sometime. Macy Jane’s belongings were scattered about the house or in boxes. It had been less than a week since she’d stood in her momma’s kitchen and accused him of lying. Less than a week since he’d told her about Spence and she blamed him. Less than a week since he’d told her he loved her and she’d thrown it back in his face. Less than a week that felt a hell of a lot longer.

Vivien would be flying back and forth between California and New York while filming. He was sure she’d make a detour to Charleston. When she did he’d be waiting for her. He’d make her listen and make it up to her, but a week later, she had yet to materialize and he started to worry that she might not return at all. The thought of never seeing her, of losing her for good, weighed heavy in his heart and mind and gave him a knot between his shoulders.

After week three rolled around, Vivien had yet to turn up and Spence had gone missing as well. Henry had driven to his brother’s condo on Bay Street several times and his mail hadn’t been picked up for a month. Like Vivien, Spencer didn’t answer texts or phone calls. He wasn’t answering his e-mails, but if Henry had to make a wager on where his brother was hiding out, he’d put his money on Key West. He’d bet Spence was in some beach bungalow, still fuming while he wrote the next great American novel, downed pitchers of mojitos, and stepped on pop tops.

The only member of his family still talking to him was his mother, and he wasn’t talking to her. He wasn’t purposely punishing her, he just didn’t have anything to say to the woman who had kept secrets that had torpedoed all their lives, then had sat back and refused to accept any blame.

He should have told his mother a long time ago to deal with her own baggage and leave him out of it. He should have freed himself from the pressure of making sure their names stayed free of the scandal Nonnie had covered up and feared most. He should have, but he hadn’t. He’d been handed the responsibility of keeping the family secrets, and at the moment, he wondered why he’d ever thought it mattered. The family scandals and secrets hadn’t been worth the pain and betrayal both Vivien and Spence felt.

He’d left his old job for the peace and calm of John’s Island. He’d left the pressure and stress of his old life behind. In reality he’d just traded one source of strain for another. Compared to the pain he felt in his chest from loving Vivien, he’d take a heart attack any day. He could deal with that. He knew what to do to make that pain stop before it started. He knew the warning signs, but this, there’d been no warning and the constant ache never stopped.

For the first time in his life, Henry couldn’t fix everything.

THERE WAS ONLY
one way to fix a broken heart. Martinis. Lots of martinis. Too bad Vivien couldn’t stay oblivious for the rest of her life. At some point she had to sober up, and when she did, she still felt stupid for loving Henry
and
she was sick as a dog to boot.

She’d been a fool. She’d fallen for a lie, a façade, and she hardly knew what had been real or what to believe anymore. How could something that felt so real, not even exist? How could she still feel such a strong attachment to a man who felt nothing for her? How had that happened?

He’d told her he loved her. She didn’t believe him at all. A lot of men in Vivien’s past had claimed to love her. At some point, she always discovered they’d either lied or were in love with Vivien the actress. Not Vivien the woman. They were in love with what they saw on a thirty-foot screen at the local multiplex. Like her mother, she’d never been lucky in love, but unlike her mother, she’d never had any delusions about anyone with the last name Whitley-Shuler—at least not until a few months ago. Until a few months ago, she’d never believed they would ever welcome her into their lives. Not really, and now she felt so stupid for believing their lies.

After Macy Jane’s death, Nonnie had been kind and helpful and she’d fallen for it. She’d fallen for Henry, too, and that was the worst pain of all. She’d known she’d fallen in love with him, but she hadn’t known the depth of her feelings until he broke her heart. Until he took it all away, as if everything they’d said and done and been had meant nothing to him. As if she’d meant nothing to him.

In her head, she couldn’t help reliving every moment between them, every conversation and text message. It had all felt so real and wonderful and fresh. She’d felt protected around him, and he’d made her happy. She’d never felt so good with a man, and now she’d never felt so bad.

Henry had reached out in several texts, and she’d been so tempted to contact him. Her heart urged her to talk to him. To listen to him and believe his lies, but her head knew better. Just one message. Just one call. Just to hear the sound of his voice one more time, but that would only make her feel worse in the end. Her heart and her head warred. Push pull. Push pull, until her head won and she completely deleted Henry from her life. Before she could change her mind, she deleted him from every electronic device she owned, and she changed her phone number. She wiped him out totally and completely so that in a moment of weakness, when her emotions swamped her better judgement, there was no way she could call or text. It was too bad she couldn’t delete him so easily from her heart.