1. Bree #2
Gavin tried to come closer and hug me, but I put both forearms up in an X across my chest, blocking the embrace.
His arms slumped down. He was sitting on his knees on top of the mattress, hands on his thighs, completely naked, looking like he was just about to propose to me — but in a stress-dream version.
“Aubrey, she is just a friend, and you know it. She’s just making sure she gets the best footage for the documentary, and that’s all.”
Aubrey? So now I was just Aubrey?
“At all hours of the night? What documentary maker messages her client at” — I checked my phone on the nightstand — “at two a.m., Gavin?”
“I’m not just a client to her, Bree. We were friends before any of this. And need I remind you, when I was on the fence about hiring her, you were the one who told me it’d make the documentary better because she already knew me.”
There it was. My own words, thrown right back at me like a boomerang I built myself.
“So it’s all my fault, then,” I said. “It’s all my fault that you’re sharing inside jokes with your ex, even after I’ve told you a hundred times how she gets bitchy with me the second you’re not around.
Maybe I underestimated her, Gavin. Have you ever thought about that?
Maybe I don’t want her around you anymore.
I am so sorry for trying to support you, for thinking it’d be good to give her this project after hearing her sob story about her divorce.
I’m so sorry for doing the right thing, Gavin. My mistake.”
He softened, which somehow made it worse. “Bree. Bree, look at me.”
I could feel tears building behind my eyes and I refused — refused — to let them out. Not yet.
“You did the right thing. The documentary is coming together so well. I think Wren was the right choice. But if you think her messaging me at night or after hours bothers you, I’ll give her the hint, and she’ll stop.”
“What do you mean, if I think, Gavin? You’re my husband. When I tell you she wants more from you than just being a good friend, you listen. You listen to me. When I tell you she’s nasty and bitchy with me behind your back, you listen. You don’t go defending her over your wife.”
“I am not defending her, Bree. I’m just saying you’re reading too much into it.
She can come across as blunt and deadpan — I’ve told you that before.
I’m just trying to make you see her motives are clean here.
She’s good at what she does, you’ve said so yourself.
And she just got divorced. This job can elevate her portfolio to a celebrity-biographer level.
We should support her, shouldn’t we? Isn’t that what you said? ”
“I said it before I knew she was a bitch playing the victim card on you.”
“Bree, you know how I hate that word. And I can’t believe you just said that about her.”
“Just like you can’t believe she’s hell-bent on getting me out of your life?” I snapped back.
“Firstly, she is not hell-bent on anything except getting a good-quality documentary on my life story, and for that, she obviously has to be around me all the time. Sometimes more than you’d like. But that’s her job, and she’s doing it well. And secondly —“
He paused and looked at me. I knew he’d forgotten his second point, and I knew he wasn’t going to admit it.
“And secondly?” I prompted, not even trying to hide the smirk.
“Secondly...” He frowned, silent for a few seconds, and then his eyes lit up.
“Yeah, and secondly, she knows I’m a friend and nothing else.
That’s where the line is drawn. And Bree, I didn’t like how you said she wants to get you out of my life.
Do I have any say in this? Do you think I’d let anyone, anyone, get you out of my life?
I don’t even know what that means, getting someone out of someone’s life.
Who are we, the Mean Girls? You’re my wife, Bree.
You’re not just a girl I’m dating. And even if you were, no one could get my girl out of my life.
No one, except the girl and I. What kind of immature shit is this? ”
“Yeah, I knew it. I knew it. I knew you’d play the immature card next, Gavin.
” I was smiling like a demented clown, nodding my head, going again and again — “I knew it. I knew. I know you so well, Gavin, it’s not even funny.
I knew you’d say that. I’m being immature.
I’m the problem. I’m the insecure wife who can’t handle the attention her world-famous husband is getting from an innocent videographer. ”
“Yeah, you are being immature. Completely immature about this. Am I allowed to say what I think?”
“Oh, you’re allowed. You’re always allowed. And since I’m apparently the paranoid, immature one here, I’m sure I’m also allowed a peek at your phone. You’ve got nothing to hide, right?”
His jaw tightened. “I have nothing to hide, Bree. But I can’t fathom this. Now you’ve become the wife who checks her husband’s phone?”
“Yes, I have, Gavin,” I said very sweetly, even though my voice was cracking slightly.
Gavin handed me the phone. I knew I shouldn’t be doing it, but I couldn’t back down at that point. I’d never once asked to see his phone, and I was already so embarrassed and angry at myself for saying it.
“Here. Have fun reading the messages, and after that, we are never having this conversation again,” he said, handing the phone roughly into my hand. It landed heavier than I expected.
I didn’t really want to see anything.
Gavin dressed himself, watching me from the corner of his eye the whole time.
It was too late to give it back to him. Hot tears streamed down my face.
I wiped one away with the back of my hand and opened his messages.
Gavin had paused, momentarily, getting dressed.
He’d gotten his boxers on and was fumbling with his T-shirt, clearly interested in seeing what I’d do next.
I saw threads and threads of messages about the documentary — logistics, locations, equipment, what should be added.
I saw threads of Gavin’s own messages, sharing ideas, and so many mentions of my name that he’d written.
Bree would be the best person to ask about that.
You should shoot Bree making Saturday breakfast. I think a back shot of Bree and me walking down the path toward the lake could be a good introduction to the family portion. On and on.
More tears streamed down my cheeks. I read message after message from Wren, obviously trying to cut me out of shots, but I could see Gavin being head-fast about what he wanted in the documentary. Was he really that blind to her obvious bitchiness?
I was about to put the phone down when something caught my eye. Another thread of messages between Gavin and Wren, exchanged two weekends ago, on the night of our anniversary.
Wren: So, what’s the gift for the wife?
The wife.
Gavin: I’ve already given her one gift. And I’ll give her the other one later tonight.
If the other gift involves you both getting naked, I’m all ears. Wink emoji.
LOL. Maybe. But why would I tell you anything about that?
I need it for the documentary LOL
LOL. There are other ways to make a successful documentary. I’m sure you’ll find one.
Revealing how good you are in bed is a great way, and a tried-and-tested one, I’ll tell you that.
We’re not making porn, Wren.
No, we’re not. But if we could somehow reveal you’re a 9 in bed, that would be something.
And how do you know about that rating?
I was the first one to give you that rating, Gavin.
LOL. Thank you, Wren. I’m very flattered.
You always knew I gave you a 9, but you never told me my rating.
I don’t have a rating scale.
Of course you do. Everyone does.
Good night, Wren.
Come on, Gavin. At least tell me if I got passing grades.
You got passing grades and much more than that. Wink emoji. Wink emoji. Wink emoji.
Do you remember the time we got caught by Coach Morris making out behind the bleachers?
LOL, yeah. How can I forget the most embarrassing day of my life?
Funny you’d think it was embarrassing. It was the best day of my life.
I mean, it was fun when it was happening. The embarrassing part came later.
The later part WAS embarrassing. But it was your idea to start with, so what can I say? Blonde girl shrugging emoji.
Thankfully Chris saved our asses, LOL. I still owe him one. Wink emoji.
I really miss those times.
Me too. Anyway, got to go, Bree’s waiting.
Sure. See you tomorrow. I hope you’ve toned down the kinkiness a notch with Bree.
Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t.
Maybe I’ll find out someday. Wink emoji.
LOL. Good night, Wren. See you tomorrow.
Sure. Call time’s 10. Good night, Gavin.
I set the phone down and found Gavin right in front of me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“What,” Gavin said.
“You don’t know what? You were messaging her late into the night, talking about the sex you had with her. On the night of our anniversary, Gavin? You were discussing our sex life with her?”
“It’s a joke, Bree. I knew you’d blow it out of proportion.”
He didn’t reach for me. Didn’t try to explain himself. Just stood there looking mildly put-upon, like I was the inconvenience.
I waited. Gavin said nothing.
“Gavin, what the fuck? Do you want to explain that?”