“You got high on your first day of school?” His voice rises.
“It was an accident, okay? I didn’t know the brownie I ate at lunch was the special kind.”
I realize I’m almost shouting, which seems to irritate Alistair more. In the back of my mind, I know I’m making a spectacle out of myself. If he didn’t have regrets about hooking up with a high school student, he does now.
“Chiara, settle down. If school administration finds out you’re stoned, you could be expelled.”
“For real?”
He rubs his face. “You need to go home. Where are you staying?”
“At Brandywine Hall.”
My phone buzzes again with another message from Robbie. He’s coming this way. I can’t let him see me with Alistair. He might be able to guess I had a summer fling with him. I don’t trust myself to keep a straight face right now.
“I can take you.”
I’d be tempted to accept his offer if only to spend a few more minutes alone with him. But his tone implies the task would be a chore for him.
“No need. My friends are coming.”
I try to appear calm and collected as I walk out of the classroom, but I’m screaming inside. Alistair, the man who left a permanent imprint on my heart, is here, in the flesh, so close and yet unreachable.
How am I going to survive the semester?
15
Alistair
I turn my cell phone off because I can’t deal with anyone right now. I’m probably giving Enzo, my lawyer, premature gray hair. I’m sure he’s going to mention it the next time he sees me.
This is a cosmic joke of epic proportions. Chiara showing up in my class, high out of her mind, was the worst thing that could have happened to me. It opened old wounds. It reminded me of when I was her age and utterly lost. I was torn between yelling at her for doing something so reckless and kissing her because I’ve missed her so damn much.
I can’t help but notice the irony. I’m teaching screenplay writing while my own life just became a fucking soap opera. I’m a walking cliché. I have a soul-sucking villainesque ex-wife, and I’m crushing on a student. It was a miracle I was able to get through the class without making a fool of myself in front of my students.
I’m looking forward to a quiet evening in front of the TV as I head home, but it seems that isn’t going to happen today. Nadine’s car is parked in front of my condo.
Fuck me.
My jaw is locked tight as I park my truck in the designated spot. Without looking in her car’s direction, I stride to my front door, body coiled with tension. But I know it won’t matter how fast I walk.
Sure as shit, as soon as I hit the pavement, I hear her car door open and she calls my name.
I ignore her.
She catches me right before I open the front door, grabbing my arm. “Alistair, for fuck’s sake, stop! I need to talk to you.”
I glance at her hand on my arm, then level her with a glare. She swallows hard, releasing me and taking a step back for good measure. Her brown eyes are wide as she tries to portray deep sorrow. But I can see through her bullshit now. There isn’t an ounce of regret in her soul. She’s always been about the money and influence, things I still have despite not working as an actor anymore. Too bad I was just too blind to see before.
“I have nothing to say to you. I’ll only deal with you through my lawyer.”
“Please, Alistair. Let’s not do this. Why can’t you let bygones be bygones?”
“Are you serious? You fucked my friend in our bed, and you want me to simply forgive you?”
“I made a mistake. Showbiz was kicking my ass, and I was lonely. You were never there for me.”
“Don’t you dare pin your betrayal on me.”
She sighs loudly and amps up the remorseful expression on her face. “I want us to reach an agreement. I’m broke, Alistair. I haven’t worked on anything in months, and if I don’t pay my rent, I’ll be out on the street.”
“Not my fucking problem. Call Wade.”
She looks down. “I haven’t seen or talked to Wade since you… you know.”
“Like I said, not my problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do.”
“Just give me half the vineyard and I’ll be out of your life for good. You have the money, Alistair.”
“Yes, I do have the money, but it’s my money, and I’ll be damned if I let you have a penny of it.”
“You’re so fucking selfish. I gave you the best years of my life!”
I roll my eyes. Here she goes with the over-the-top drama. She makes it sound like we were together for decades, not seven years, four of those as a married couple. Eight years older than me, she hated when gossip magazines mentioned our age difference, so “the best years of her life” speech isn’t a surprise coming from her.
“Sorry, honey. This source has dried out. Good luck finding another idiot who believes your bullshit.”
I walk around her and push the door open. Just before I shut it in her face, she says, “You’ll regret this, Alistair.”
