Captive Films: Season One (7 page)

Especially when she hooks her leg around me, pulling me closer.
 

Slam.
The refrigerator adjacent to us slams shut and Keatyn’s chef, Marvel, says, “Oh! Excusez-moi.”

But the fucker doesn't leave.
 

He places a bunch of vegetables on the island and starts chopping them.
 

Ariela slowly extricates herself from our embrace.
 

 
“I know," she says sadly. “It meant nothing.”

She walks away from me, stopping by the patio door to grab a beer from an ice bucket.
 

She doesn't even turn to look back.
 

Just like the last time.
 

I should leave.
 

But I’ll be damned if I will. These are my friends.
 

I try to pull myself together with another long swig of scotch.
 

Aiden slaps my back, sneaking up from behind me and causing me to choke. “How we doing?”
 

“I’m fine. I mean, I knew, eventually, I’d probably see her again someday. I was cordial.”

“I guess kissing her like that would be considered cordial.” He smirks. “That why you’re downing my good scotch?”

“It didn’t mean anything,” I say, trying to convince myself. “Fuck.” I hand him the bottle. “I mean, What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck?”

“Maybe it’s sorta like fate.” He smirks again as he pours two fingers of scotch into a short glass.
 

Bastard thinks this is funny.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. It might have worked on Keatyn, but it won’t work on me.”
 

He hands me the glass then pours one for himself. Damn, if he isn’t a good friend.
 

“I forgot to tell you, but congrats on the engagement. It sounds like it went off without a hitch.” Yes, I’m changing the subject. I have to.

“Mostly,” Aiden says with another grin.

“Mostly?”
 

He glances out the patio door, where Keatyn is happily chatting with Ariela, Dallas, and RiAnne.
 

“Doesn’t she look more beautiful than ever?” he asks.

I look at Ariela and say, “Yes,” before I realize he was referring to Keatyn. I cover by saying, “She always looks pretty. RiAnne, though, gosh, she looks like she’s ready to explode.”

“Better not let her hear you say that.”

“I don’t have a death wish. What did you mean by mostly?”

“The engagement went well. She just always seems to surprise me.”
 

“I woulda been surprised if she said no. You were so worried.”

“It’s not that we didn’t want to get married. We just never had the time.”

“Never
took
the time, you mean.”

“And now, we are. Come on, let’s go out there. Be nice and talk to Ariela. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I could care less about Ariela,” I lie. “And I’m sure as shit not going to try to impress her.”
 

“Okay,” Aiden says, “then just be
cordial
.”

“Smart ass,” I mutter.

As I follow him to the deck, I remind myself that I’m here to hang out with my friends.
 
That we’ll have a delicious dinner, some great wine, and enjoy the sunset.
 

And as soon as we’re done, I’m leaving.
 

I’ll go home, scroll through my phone, and choose a girl at random from the list.

Then I’ll fuck her and forget all about Ariela.

When I approach the table, I do what I’m supposed to do. I pat RiAnne’s tummy, tell her she looks great, and give Dallas my scotch.
 

With four kids under seven and another one on the way, he probably needs it more than I do.
 

I can handle this.
 

Although, I’m thankful when Marvel brings out the first course and Keatyn tells everyone where to sit.
 

I figured she’d keep trying to play matchmaker and seat me by Ariela.
 

But she doesn’t.

Instead, I’m seated right across from Ariela.

So I have to see her face.
 

Watch her blink and flirt with Dallas, who even though he is happily-ever-after married to RiAnne, is fucking flirting with my girl.
 

My girl.

Where the fuck did that come from?
 

The night goes from bad to worse with one innocent question.
 

“So, what have you been doing since Eastbrooke?” Dallas asks Ariela.

She sets her wine glass down, absentmindedly pushing a few strands of hair behind her ear.
 

That simple gesture takes me back in time.
 

To her leaping into my arms and telling me she got accepted to USC. I had gotten my letter eleven excruciatingly long days before she did. We were both so happy. Our dreams were coming true.
 

Until later that night when she came to my room in tears.

Riley, I don’t know what I’m going to do. My dad says I can’t go to California with you.

Fuck your dad. You’re eighteen. You can do what you want.
 

I have to be able to afford it, Riley.

We’re in love, kitty. That’s all we need.
 

Pushing her hair behind her ear, she sniffled and said, You’re right, love is all that matters.
 

Except she lied.
 

“Well, I went to college at Princeton.”

“Just like Daddy wanted,” I snap, unable to bite my tongue.
 

She looks at me, her eyes sad. “Yes,” is all she says before turning back toward Dallas. “I graduated with a degree in Art, did an internship with an event planner and fell in love.”

Her words
fell in love
cut me deep.
 

How many times had we said
I love you
in the two years we were together? And how many times had we made love? We had a chart that hung on the inside of my dorm room closet. Every time we had sex, we added another to the tally. By the time we graduated, the whole back of the door was filled with marks.
 

“Event planning sounds like so much fun,” RiAnne says, bubbling with excitement and probably thrilled to be talking to adults.
 

“It is. Demanding,
 
but fun.”

“What’s your favorite kind of event to plan?” Keatyn asks.
 

I’m pouring myself more wine when she replies, “Weddings.”

My body shuts down. The wine bottle drops from my hand, hits the glass, and shatters it, sending wine and glass in all directions.
 

I push my chair away from the table, as does everyone.
 

“Sorry,” I say, quickly setting the bottle upright.
 

But the damage is already done.
 

She shattered my life like I shattered the glass and it can’t be fixed.

“I’m sorry,” I say to everyone. “I have to go.”
 

I get into my car and put the key in the ignition, flashing back to another time when I’m about to drive off, pissed at Ariela.

I’m sorry, Riley. You don’t understand.
 

No, I don’t understand. How could you do it? All this time? Leading me on. Telling me you were coming with me when all the while you planned to go to Princeton.
 

I kept hoping my dad would change his mind.
 

A knock on my window startles me and brings me back to the present.

“Riley,” Keatyn says.
 

I roll down the window. “I’m sorry about the wine.”

“I sorry I didn’t tell you I invited her,” she says, swaying slightly. She puts her palm on my car, closes her eyes, and sways again, her knees giving out.
 

I jump out of the car and grab her. “Keatyn!”

She quickly opens her eyes. “Oh, gosh, that was weird. I got hot and nauseous all of a sudden.”

“You fainted.”

“Oh, wow. Weird.”

“How much did you drink?”

“I didn’t drink anything.”

“Shit,” I say, knowing I can’t just leave her. “Come on, let’s get you inside. Has this ever happened before?”

“Um, no.” She shakes her head. “I think I’m just hungry.”

“Hungry and nauseated?” I put my arm around her and lead her back into the house. Aiden, who seems to have a sixth sense where she’s concerned, is rushing toward us.
 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his face whiter than hers.
 

“I’m fine,” she says, but I disagree.
 

“She fainted.”

“I didn’t faint. I felt a little woozy for a minute. I think I’m just hungry.”

Aiden gently leads her to the couch, sitting down with her and rubbing her hand. “Are you sure, baby?”

When he calls her baby, my ears perk up. Usually, he calls her Boots.
 

I watch the two of them. The way they care. The way they love.
 

I say I don’t want that in my life. That I’m happy single.
 

That I don’t want complications. Just sex.

But once upon a time, it’s all I wanted.
 

I look out the window at Ariela.
 

The one I wanted to have it with.
 

“If you’re okay, I need to go. Will you be in the office tomorrow?”

“No,” Aiden says as she smiles at me and mouths, “Yes.”

This time, I jump back in my car and tear out of the driveway.
 

Keatyn & Aiden’s beach house - Malibu

ARIELA

Keatyn and Aiden sit back down as their chef serves the main course.

“I owe you an apology, Ariela,” Keatyn says sincerely. “I should have told you Riley would be here. I didn’t think it all through. It’s been a long time.”

“It has been. I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch, but it was just too hard.”

“You were married,” Dallas states, pointing at my finger. I took off my wedding ring, but I couldn’t take off the tan line.
 

“I still am married. Keatyn tells me you might be able to help me file for a divorce?”

“What’s your state of residence?”

“Connecticut.”

“I know just the person who can help you with that. In fact, you know her. Well, used to know her.”

“Who?”

“Annie,” Keatyn says, scooping up another portion of mashed potatoes. I can’t help but wonder how in the world she stays so thin.
 

“Annie is a divorce attorney?”
 

“Yeah,” she replies, but then she hesitates. “Oh . . .”

“Oh, what?”

“Um, well, Dallas, you know, that might not be the best idea,” she says to him.

“Oh,” RiAnne says, covering her mouth.

“Why not?” I ask.

“She’s married to Riley’s brother, Camden.”

“Really? Wow. First, Jake, then sexy Cam. That’s awesome. Good for her.”

“Yeah, they have a fun story. She was sort of forced to help him graduate.”

“Only took him like seven years,” Dallas says. “I was already starting law school by then.”

“I’d love to get in touch with her,” I tell them. “I expect my husband will want to fight the divorce. But enough about me, catch me up on your lives.”

Dallas leans into his pregnant wife and says, “I had hot sex with my secretary today.”

My face goes white. “What?”

RiAnne playfully punches him. “He’s teasing. One time he heard a joke about a man who had an affair with his secretary and fell asleep at her house. Instead of freaking out, he told her to take his shoes outside and put grass and dirt on them.
 

Aiden laughs along with them, but I’m horrified. “Yeah, and when the guy walked in the house, his wife demanded to know where he’d been.”

RiAnne rolls her eyes at them. “He tells her that he couldn’t lie to her. He was having an affair with his secretary. The woman looked at his shoes, called him a liar, and accused him of playing golf.”

“So, now, whenever he plays golf, he says he’s with his secretary,” Keatyn laughs too.
 

“I wish my husband liked golf more than his secretary,” I mutter, taking a big gulp of wine.
 

RiAnne’s eyes get huge. “It’s funny to us because I used to be his secretary. Uh, but, now, it doesn’t seem so funny. I’m sorry. Is that why you’re getting a divorce?”