“Your mommy wasn’t married to your daddy then. They were just friends while Mommy was my girlfriend.”
His brow creases, and he looks confused as his gaze bounces between us.
“Dillon was my boyfriend, and we only found out recently that it was Dillon who put the baby in my tummy.”
Easton looks downright confused, and I don’t blame him. This is virtually impossible to explain to a five-year-old. I try a different angle. “Reeve was the best daddy, right, buddy?”
“The best in the whole wide world.” He stretches his arms out to prove his point, hitting both of us in the stomach.
“And he’s still your daddy now even though he’s in heaven,” Vivien says, taking over when she sees I’m sweating bullets. “Reeve will always be your daddy, Easton.” She takes his hands again. “But he didn’t put you in my tummy. Dillon did.” His brow creases, and the most heartbreaking, vulnerable look appears on his face. “Dillon is your daddy too, Easton.”
He looks so lost when he looks up at me, and I tighten my arm around him, moving in closer the same time Vivien does. “You’re my daddy?” he whispers, his eyes filling up, and my heart is rupturing behind my rib cage.
Tears pool in my eyes, and I don’t try to hold them back like I usually would. “Yes, buddy. I’m your daddy, and I love you very, very much.”
“You are really lucky,” Vivien adds, rubbing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. “You have two amazing daddies. Daddy Reeve is watching over you from heaven, and Daddy Dillon is here to always look after you.”
Tears spill down his cheeks, and he leans into Vivien, sobbing against her chest. “I miss my daddy,” he says, in between sobs, and pain has a vise grip on my heart. Vivien warned me not to expect too much, and I know he’s confused, but I can’t help how I feel. Rejection has always been hard for me, and though I know that’s not what Easton is doing, the feelings are the same.
Until I snap out of it.
I’m being a selfish prick.
The instant the thought lands in my mind, I wipe my eyes and focus on my son.
This isn’t about me.
It’s about him.
“It’s okay to miss him,” Viv says, reaching out to cup my face as our son clings to her. “I miss him too, but Daddy Reeve would want us to be happy, and Daddy Dillon makes us happy, right?”
Easton lifts his head, turning to look at me. Seeing his tearstained blotchy face kills me. He sniffles, staring at me, and it feels like my heart is about to disintegrate. “Uncle Dillon,” he says.
“Yeah, buddy.” My voice is hoarse, emotion clogging my words as well as my thoughts.
“Do I call you Daddy Dillon now?”
Viv sobs, holding on to me and Easton.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I can scarcely speak over the messy ball of emotion in my throat. “You can call me whatever you want, East.”
He thinks about it for a second, and then his hand reaches out, and he curls his fingers around mine. “Daddy Dillon?” The trusting expression on his face knocks me for six, and I nod because I can’t actually form words. This is the culmination of every fantasy I have had since I discovered he was mine. “Can we play on the slides now?”
Easton took it way better than any of us expected, and I’m delighted. There are still moments where I catch him looking a little lost, and I know he’s still grappling to understand it all, but he seems to have accepted he has two daddies. I even heard him bragging to one of his little mates when I collected him from school on his last day before his Christmas break.
His mother is a different matter though. Although Vivien sleeps in my arms every night and we’re together, in all the ways we can be together, she’s emotionally distanced herself from me. From everyone.
The Oprah interview was a bit of a mixed bag. We gave a watered-down version of our story, not going into all the details but giving enough to try to explain the situation in a way that protects Viv. It fostered enormous online debate with camps split evenly down the middle. There are those who are sympathetic to the situation, who understand Viv’s position, and wish us well. Most of my fans have been supportive, but there is an element who are jealous and lash out at Viv.
And don’t get me started on Reeve’s fanbase. They have all turned on Vivien, and the vitriol online is disgusting. I made Ash give me access to my accounts again so I could monitor things. But I had to shut them down before they banned me, because I was not holding back in my replies to the assholes calling my woman a slut, a cheat, and a murderer.
Someone started a petition to have Viv arrested for murdering Reeve, and it had over one hundred thousand signatures. Some of these people are legit lunatics who should be locked up in the nuthouse. How the fuck can anyone accuse a woman of deliberately killing her husband and baby in such a horrific way? They seem to forget she nearly died too.
Fucking assholes. I swear I want to punch the lot of them.
I have my US attorney working overtime, firing off threatening letters to publications and online sites and issuing legal proceedings. My Irish solicitor has begun the process with Aoife, and he’s issued more reminders to the other NDA signatories.
The publicists are trying to put a positive spin on our official communications, and Lauren has her IT contact removing shit from the internet on a continuous basis. We have stepped up security and spoken to Easton’s school and his friends’ parents. There really isn’t anything else we can do.
Understandably, it’s gotten to Viv, and she’s hibernating again. Refusing to leave the house. Going about her day on autopilot, and I can’t get through to her. We’re all worried, and I’m seriously contemplating quitting the band and pulling out of the tour. I can’t leave her like this, and I haven’t asked her to come with us either because I know she’ll only say no.
Time is running out, and that calls for drastic measures.
On Christmas Eve morning, I decide it’s time Dickhead Dillon came out to play. “Get dressed,” I tell her when she emerges from our en suite bathroom surrounded by a steamy cloud. I’m fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting to battle her on this. “We’re meeting Ash and Jamie and Audrey and Alex, downtown for lunch. Then we’re taking Easton ice-skating at the outdoor rink at Santa Monica.”
“No, Dillon.” She shakes her head, beads of water dancing across her shoulders. “It will be crazy downtown, and I’m sure to get harassed.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer, sweetheart.” I pull her between my legs, ignoring the almost insurmountable urge to rip her towel off and fuck her until she agrees. “Today is no different than any other day in that regard.” I pull her onto my lap and kiss her. “I know you’re scared. I know some of the shit that’s being said about you is awful. I hate how fucking sexist it is and how they’re blaming you for everything. But it’s not your fault. You didn’t cause the accident. You didn’t cheat on Reeve. And you couldn’t help falling in love with me because I’m a fucking irresistible sexy bastard.”
I flash her one of my trademark grins, encouraged when I see the hint of a smile on her beautiful mouth. “Remember what Meryl has told you. You can’t control the media or jerks who post shit online. You can only control how you deal with it.” I brush my fingers across her cheek. “I’m not being flippant when I say this. I know it’s difficult to just shut it off, but they only have power over you if you let them. The people that matter know the truth. Fuck the rest of them.”