52. Vivienne
Vivienne
Iaccept a program from the attendant and walk down the corridor, following the plush maroon carpet to the Wilson family box in the Aurelia Grand Theatre.
My parents attend one performance annually—the Nutcracker—and the box sits empty the rest of the year.
No one even knows I occasionally use it, except Cass.
Pushing aside the gold velvet drapes, I step in and settle into a chair. As I watch families gather in the general seating area below and young girls whisper animatedly to each other, a sense of loneliness steals over me. Maybe Cass was right and coming here alone is sad.
Erasing the thought from my mind, I flip through the program, looking for her name. When I find it, a tiny thrill shoots through me.
Juliette Whitaker.
I’m too far away to get a good look at her, but just knowing that Cass’s sister will be onstage tonight makes me feel connected to him. In exactly a week from now, I’ll be Mrs. Landon Davenport, and after that, all ties binding me to Cassian will be severed.
“Room for one more?”
The voice startles me, and I turn to find Cass in the doorway of the booth, wearing a black tuxedo and a devilishly lopsided smile. “Cassian.” Relief and joy flood my veins. “What are you doing here?”
He takes the seat beside me, resting his arms on his knees. “I was thinking about you coming to this thing alone, and I couldn’t let that happen.” He gazes out at the crowd below us. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t,” I whisper, still in awe that he’s here. Having him beside me means I won’t be able to concentrate on the ballet, but this is far better.
He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small wrapped package. “Happy birthday, Vivvy,” he says, handing it to me.
“You already gave me a gift.” I take it and tug on the ribbon holding it together.
He chuckles. “The chocolate? That was for Bash’s sake. I was afraid if I gave you this in front of everyone, he’d break my jaw.”
I glance up in surprise, my cheeks immediately flooding with heat. “Now I’m scared to open it.”
“Don’t be.” He shakes his head. “You’ll see.”
I finish removing the brown paper, revealing a hardcover copy of Wuthering Heights.
It’s a modern reprinting from a local publisher with an illustrated cover and foil typography.
A satin bookmark is stuck between the gilded pages.
“Thank you, Cass. It’s beautiful.” It comes out in a whisper as I gently stroke the cover.
“There’s more,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Inside.”
Letting the book fall open in my lap, I flip through it to see what he’s talking about.
Page after page is filled with highlights and annotations in his familiar handwriting.
I stop at one of my favorite scenes, the one where Catherine tells Nelly how she feels about Heathcliff.
With a blue marker, Cass has highlighted a quote I’ve memorized.
“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”
In the margin, he wrote, I know how she feels.
The sudden hot ball of tears in my throat makes it hard to swallow. “You annotated this for me?” My words catch on the lump and come out high-pitched and cracked.
“I know how much you like it, and I finally read it,” he says.
I lift my gaze to his. “This is the most incredible gift anyone's ever given me. Thank you.”
He shrugs as if it’s nothing, when we both know it’s everything. My heart feels like it will burst if I so much as fill my lungs with air, so I simply sit here, staring at him. I hope he knows how much this means to me, because I can’t find the words to tell him.
The orchestra begins playing a soft melody as the house lights dim. “You might have to explain what’s going on,” Cass says, turning back to the stage. “They don’t talk, right?”
I let out a snort that’s part humor, part relief at the distraction. “No, they don’t.”
“Yeah, I’m doomed.” He settles back in his chair, brushing his shoulder against mine.
“No, you’re not,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder. “You have me.” And for one night, I’m going to pretend that’s actually true.
A hush falls over the audience, and the feeling of anticipation in my chest grows. Cass fidgets with his program, and I reach over and entwine our fingers. He immediately stills, letting the paper fall gently into his lap.
With my hand securely in his and my cheek nestled against him, I let myself enjoy the performance of Giselle. Cass wasn’t kidding about not understanding, so I explain certain moments to him when he’s confused.
“She’s not supposed to dance because her heart is weak,” I say.
“How do you know that?”
A tiny laugh slips past my lips. “Because I’m paying attention.”
“I’m trying,” he says. “I keep getting distracted.” He doesn’t need to point out that the only distraction in our box is me. Our fingers are still interlaced, and our shoulders are pressed close together, making his warmth seep into me like sunshine.
I pinch his side with my free hand. “You should pay more attention.”
He grunts, and my pulse jumps. I force my attention back to the stage and away from the image of Cass over me in bed, using that same noise to get me to do exactly what he wants.
When the scene changes and the Wilis float onstage, I straighten in my seat. Their flowing white tutus make them look ethereal and mournful.
“That’s her,” I say in an excited whisper. “That’s Juliette.”
I can feel Cass frowning. “She’s in this one?”
“Of course.” Turning, I try to see his face in the dark. “Isn’t that why you came?”
“I came to be with you, Vivvy.”
My heart trips over itself in its rush to leave my body. My lips part of their own accord, and I catch his gaze following them. “Cass . . .” I let my voice trail off and force my eyes back to the stage. Now isn’t the time to discuss what is or isn’t happening with us.
His grip on my hand tightens, but I refuse to look at him. If I meet his eyes one more time, I’m not sure I’ll be able to look away. I’m also not sure I’ll stop him if he tries to do anything.
The weight of the diamond on my finger grows heavier with each passing second. If Cass can feel it, he doesn’t let on. Maybe he hasn’t noticed it, or maybe he’s as good an actor as the ones performing tonight.
I move to disentangle my hand from his, but he holds on tight. “Just let me have this for one night, Vivvy. Please?”
At the plea in his tone, I can’t help but meet his gaze. “Okay,” I say, letting myself relax. “Just for tonight.”
We watch the rest of the performance, and occasionally Cassian asks a question. “What’s she doing?”
I smile into his shoulder. “She’s dancing with Albrecht to keep him alive.”
“How do you know his name?”
“It’s in the program.” I flick the folded paper in his hand. “And I’ve seen this one half a dozen times before.” We used to attend the ballet often when I was little, which is when I developed a love for it.
“Why is she saving him?” Cass asks. “He’s a scumbag.”
“She doesn’t see him like that.”
His body tenses, and I can feel him frowning. Instead of pressing the issue, I let him be. We watch the rest of the show in silence.
I wait until the final curtain closes to speak. “Juliette was great.” When he doesn’t respond, I nudge him with my shoulder. “Didn’t you think so?”
He flicks a piece of lint from his pants. “Yeah, she was good.”
“Do you want to go meet her?” I ask hesitantly. After our argument, I decided not to bring it up again, but since he told everyone about Juliette at dinner last night, I’m hoping he’s changed his mind.
“No.” His answer is sudden and swift, and I draw back in surprise.
“I’ll be with you the whole ti—”
“I said no, Viv.”
“Okay.” I sink back into my seat. “I just thought, since we’re here anyway . . .”
He turns to me so abruptly, his program falls to the floor. “And I told you I didn’t come to see my sister. I didn’t even remember she was performing tonight.”
“Fine.” I try to withdraw my hand, but he clings to it. “Sometimes you’re too stubborn to do what’s good for you.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know what it means, Cass. You get so annoyed at your dad’s stubbornness that you can’t see you’re twice as bad as he is.” With a final tug, I free myself from his grip and reach down to grab my purse.
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“I usually do.” Smoothing the wrinkles from my gown, I push to my feet. I’ve been sitting for hours, even through the intermission, and a walk in the fresh air is exactly what I need. Putting distance between Cass and myself before one of us says something hurtful will just be a bonus.
“Are you leaving?” he asks, standing as well.
“In case you haven’t noticed, the show’s over.” I head for the door with him right on my heels.
“Why are you pissed at me?” His voice is low, and goosebumps rise on my neck.
“Because you’re a stubborn ass, and sometimes I want to slap you.”
He grabs my elbow and steers me through the crowd mingling in the foyer. “You can slap me anytime you want, baby.”
As he pushes open the doors, the brisk evening air greets us, and I drink in big gulps of it. I didn’t realize how stuffy it had gotten inside. Shrugging off Cass’s hand, I walk down the pavement, needing to stretch my legs before I call my driver.
“Where are you going?” Cass plants himself at my side again, the smokiness of his cologne wrapping around me.
“Walking, what does it look like?”
“Can you stop for just a second? I want to talk to you.”
“I forgot men can’t do two things at once,” I say, pulling up short.
“Cute.” He shoots me a droll look. “Can we talk?”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.” My tone is flippant, but my heart is racing a million miles an hour. We have discussed this so many times, and there’s nothing left to say. Nothing he says now will change anything.
“I’m ready,” he says, taking a step closer.
I frown up at him. “Ready for what?”
“For you.” Reaching up, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
The roaring in my ears grows louder, until I can’t even hear my own thoughts. I drop my head, looking at the concrete beneath my feet and not Cass’s intense gaze. “What are you saying?” I whisper.
“I’m saying I’m ready to take a chance on us.”
Tears sting my eyes. How long have I been waiting for him to say those words? And now that he finally has—
“It’s too late, Cass.” I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“What do you mean it’s too late?” He splays his callused hands, and I want nothing more than to feel them on every inch of my body. “You wanted me to fight for you. That’s what I’m doing.”
I lift my gaze back to his handsome face as my heart hits the pavement and splinters into a thousand shards. Why couldn’t he have been willing to fight a month ago? Even two weeks ago? Why did he have to wait until the very last minute? “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” His voice grows hard with anger.
“What difference does it make?” I shrug as tears roll down my face. “I’m getting married in six days, Cass. Landon’s family has already arrived from London. A huge crew of people are setting up at the park. What do you expect me to do?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, then scrubs a hand over his face. “I expect nothing.”
A new hole rips open in my heart. Cassian has taught himself to expect nothing; for all his life, he’s held back in case he got hurt. Now, when he’s finally willing to put his heart on the line, I can’t give him what he wants.
“I’m sorry.” It comes out on a sob. “I wish I could change things, but I had no idea you would—”
“Shhh,” he says, pushing me back toward the building as a crowd of people moves past us. “I know I gave you no reason to hope. But I realized after meeting my mother that you’re not like her, Vivvy. You’re sweet and kind and good. You wouldn’t do what she did.”
I long to say something, but my throat has closed up, my tongue thick in my mouth.
“I pushed you away because I thought you would eventually leave me. I’m not worthy of you, and I’ll never be able to give you the life you deserve. But if those things aren’t important to you . . .” He glances away, rapidly blinking.
I grasp both my elbows as tears continue running down my face and falling onto the silk of my dress. I couldn’t find the words to say even if my throat allowed me to say them.
“I’m sorry, Vivvy. I know it’s too late. I just . . .” He scuffs his toe against the cement. “I wanted you to know that I’m willing to try, if you still want me.”
Pressing my fingers to my mouth, I choke back a sob. “I do want you, Cassian. But my hands are tied.”
“You’re breaking my heart, Vivvy,” he says, moisture welling up in his eyes.
“You broke your own heart.” I desperately want to reach for the lapels of his jacket. “And when you broke it, you shattered mine, too.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
I have to live with the knowledge that I could’ve had the life of my dreams if he had just come to me sooner. But he has to live with the fact that he lost everything by waiting too long to see what was right in front of him.
He reaches for my hands. Carefully bending my fingers back, he traces a design in my palm. “See that?” I shiver at his touch, hot against my skin. “That’s my heart. You hold it in the palm of your hand. You always have.”
I close my eyes, wishing my tears could ease the pain in my chest. If walking away from the wedding was an option, I would do it in a heartbeat. But there’s no way in the world my parents will allow it. Not when we’re this close. “I’m sorry, Cass.”
“I love you, Vivvy,” he says, dropping my hands and pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I always have and I always will. Don’t ever forget it.” Then he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks away, taking my heart with him.