Chapter 4 - VIVIENNE’S SIDE OF THE BEDVivienne returned to her Manhattan apartment instead of Conrad’s townhouse.
She had not slept in her own bed more than twice in the previous six months.
That fact now embarrassed her.
Not because living with Conrad was shameful.
Because she realized how gradually she had rearranged her life around a man who never fully rearranged his around her.
Her toiletries filled one drawer at his home.
Her dresses occupied half a closet.
But she had never been given a key to the locked room at the end of second floor.
Clara’s room.
Conrad called it storage.
Vivienne knew better.
Once, after too much wine, she asked:
“Is her wedding dress in there?”
Conrad went completely still.
She never asked again.
Now Clara was alive.
The locked room became an answer.
Vivienne poured whiskey at three in afternoon.
Then poured it back.
She needed clarity.
Not numbness.
Her phone displayed photographs from previous summer in Amalfi.
Conrad shirtless on hotel terrace.
Vivienne laughing against his chest.
A private night when they had stayed in bed until noon, ignored phones, and talked about a future Conrad still refused to define.
Vivienne had believed patience was maturity.
Maybe it had been fear.
She called her older sister, Cecily.
“I need somewhere to be awful.”
Cecily replied:
“Come over.”
Vivienne told everything.
Cecily stared.
“His wife is alive?”
“Yes.”
“And there’s a five-year-old?”
“Yes.”
“Did he cheat on you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you deciding?”
Vivienne looked.
“Whether emotional absence counts.”
Cecily nodded slowly.
“Probably.”
Vivienne cried.
“I love him.”
“I know.”
“I hate her.”
“You don’t know her.”
“That hasn’t stopped humanity before.”
Cecily laughed.
Vivienne did too.
Then she cried harder.
“She was wearing a maid uniform.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know.”
“It made it worse.”
“Why?”
Vivienne tried explain.
Because Clara did not look like a rival.
She looked exhausted.
Small.
Afraid.
Vivienne wanted to despise glamorous woman who returned to reclaim man.
Instead she saw someone who seemed as damaged as Conrad.
That deprived her of easy anger.
Cecily said:
“You can be angry without making her villain.”
“I know.”
“That’s annoying.”
“Very.”
Three days later Conrad asked to meet.
Vivienne chose public restaurant.
He arrived looking terrible.
She almost reached for him.
Didn’t.
“Did you meet her?”
“Rose?”
Vivienne noticed he used daughter’s name already.
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Hot chocolate.”
“Forty-three questions.”
“She hates blueberries.”
“She likes space.”
“She thinks dinosaurs should still exist.”
Vivienne smiled despite herself.
Conrad’s face changed when talking daughter.
Soft.
Alive.
Vivienne’s heart hurt.
“She looks like you?”
“Yes.”
“And Clara?”
“Both.”
Silence.
“Did you kiss Clara?”
“No.”
“Want to?”
Conrad looked at table.
There.
Vivienne nodded.
“I appreciate honesty.”
“I haven’t.”
“That isn’t same.”
“No.”
She leaned back.
“I don’t want you touching me while you’re wondering what it feels like to touch her again.”
Conrad’s face tightened.
“Vivienne.”
“I’m not punishing.”
“I know.”
“I’m protecting what’s left of dignity.”
He nodded.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing right now.”
“Do you want us over?”
She cried quietly.
“I want you to know answer before I have to ask.”
Conrad looked devastated.
She continued:
“I also need you to hear something.”
“What?”
“You are allowed to love daughter without returning to mother.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He did not answer.
Vivienne stood.
Conrad reached for her hand, then stopped before touching.
She noticed.
“Good.”
“What?”
“You asked without asking.”
He smiled sadly.
She leaned down and kissed his cheek.
Not mouth.
“Figure out what happened to your wife.”
Then she walked away.
Vivienne did not know she would later become one of the people who helped uncover why Clara disappeared.
At that moment she only knew one thing:
May you like
She refused to compete with a ghost.
Especially now that ghost had a pulse.
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