by Sophie Lark
“Well, I knew he was still hung up on you Anika,” she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I did my best, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. And now that I know that he’s still crazy about you, I don’t even feel bad about it. You can’t fight true love—who would even want to?”
Anika wanted to hug her. Bless Hannah and her boundless good spirits.
“Is that what it is?” Gwen asked Anika quietly. “Are you two still in love, after all this time?”
Slowly, Anika nodded her head.
“I think we are,” she said. “I think I never stopped.”
Locking herself in her office, she tried to call James three or four times, but nobody answered.
She typed a message to him: James, thank you. I know you know what that meant to me.
She wanted to write so much more, but it seemed impossible to do over text. She needed to speak with him face to face.
I need to see you, she wrote.
21
The rest of the afternoon Anika kept checking her phone to see if James had responded, but there was no answer. She tried calling him once more, but again it just rang and rang.
Now she had a dilemma. She knew she needed to meet with Marco to break things off with him. She would have to bring his ring, which was currently sitting in its box on her nightstand at home. But Marco had been texting her updates on Dominic throughout the afternoon, and things weren’t looking good. To dump him at this moment seemed incredibly callous. Yet to drag things out was also untenable. After all, at what point would this become easier?
Also, as heartless as it seemed, Anika couldn’t risk any more misunderstandings between herself and James. She needed to make clear to everyone, as quickly as possible, where she stood.
I need to meet with you after work, she texted to Marco.
After a while he sent back, I can’t, I told you my father isn’t doing well.
Anika felt wretched. Should she wait a few days until Dominic was feeling better? And what if he didn’t get to feeling better. What if the worst happened? It could be weeks or months until an acceptable time arose.
I’m sorry, she wrote, I’m really sorry, but this can’t wait.
After a pause, Marco finally texted back, Meet me at the hospital cafe at 8.
That was good. It gave her time to finish up her work and retrieve the ring from her apartment.
She took the train back to her apartment. As she walked up to the building, she looked at the blank glass doors, the sleek facade. It was place she never felt excited to come home to. She thought, Whatever happens, I’m moving out at the end of the month. I’ll get my own place like I should have a long time ago. The resolution made her feel as if a hundred pounds had been lifted off her back.
Many things were becoming clear to her, and one of them was this: she had always been afraid to live apart from her father and sister, because living together was the only bond they had. Their personalities and goals were too dissimilar. Without the regular interactions of their shared living space, and the work and social engagements that came from being in the same city, she would become little more than a stranger to them.
There was no real emotional connection. If she moved out, months would flow by where they would forget to call her, where they would be too busy to meet, and months could easily turn into years.
But that didn’t frighten her anymore. No matter what happened between her and James, she needed to stop looking for fulfillment where there was none to be found. Her father and sister would never be a source of happiness in her life. They couldn’t bring her happiness because they weren’t happy themselves.
It seemed so obvious now.
Maybe I’m a slow learner, Anika thought with a sigh, but at least I figure it out in the end.
She took the elevator up to the top floor of her building. Stella was sitting in the kitchen when Anika came in, sipping from a mug of tea.
Almost always when Anika saw her sister, Stella was scrolling on her phone, closed off from conversation. But today she was just sitting, staring off into space.
She had showered recently. Still dressed in her robe, her hair damp over her shoulder and her face scrubbed of makeup, Stella looked younger than usual and much more vulnerable.
“Hi,” Anika said, sitting down on the stool beside her.
“Hey.”
“What are you up to tonight?”
“My friend has an exhibit on at the Agora Gallery. He’s a photographer—he studied with Frans Lanting.”
Anika gave an internal sigh. It was a reflex with Stella to name-drop. She could never just say that someone was a friend, she had to trot out their credentials. But this time Anika wouldn’t allow it to annoy her.
“That sounds great,” Anika said. “Hey, I wanted to tell you, Marco showed me some of the bags you designed for the spring accessory line. I thought they were really amazing. Your best yet.”
Stella looked up from her tea.
“Really?” she said. “Dad didn’t think—"
“Oh, fuck Dad,” Anika said. “What has he ever liked that he didn’t make himself?”
Usually this was the kind of thing that would offend Stella. She was so entrenched in team Bennet. But Anika’s vehemence was just shocking enough to make Stella laugh instead.
“That’s true,” she admitted. “He never likes anybody else’s stuff, even when it’s gorgeous. He told me Ferregamo’s platform shoes were a crime against women, and that Daphne Guinness ripped off her best designs from Star Trek.”
The two sisters laughed quietly, knowing their father was only a few rooms away.
“James found Mom’s earring by the way,” Anika said. “It’s not lost anymore.”
“He did?” Stella said. She smiled at Anika with real sincerity. “I’m really glad you have it back.”
“Me too,” Anika said.
The moment passed, and awkwardness threatened to bloom between them again.
“Well, I’d better go get dressed,” Stella said.
“Have fun tonight,” Anika said.
And it was over. But Anika was feeling lighter by the moment.
Stella was sure to be obnoxious again at some point in the future—maybe five minutes from now, if she decided that some item of clothing lost to the chaos of her room had actually been stolen by Anika. Still, Anika was beginning to feel that many things that had seemed impossible might actually be within her control—perhaps even building a relationship with her sister, outside of the stifling influence of their father.
Anika went to her room to change her clothes and retrieve Marco’s ring. She took the box off her nightstand and opened it. She hadn’t looked at the ring since Marco had shown it to her up in the balloon. There it was, as brilliant and spectacular as she remembered, perhaps even more so in the dullness of her room.
Still, looking at it she simply felt...nothing.
She realized that at no point had she taken it from the box and slid it onto her finger to see how it looked on her hand.
She was glad that she hadn’t. At no point had she promised to marry Marco, and she’d never worn his ring.
She put the ring in her purse, pulling up the Uber app on her phone. She’d have to hurry to be at the hospital in time.
Marco was already waiting in the hospital cafe on the ground floor, drinking a styrofoam cup of coffee. He had deep circles under his eyes and his clothes were rumpled.
Anika felt a surge of pity for him, dreading what she would have to say.
“How’s Dominic?” she asked.
“Terrible,” Marco said flatly. He ran both hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute.
“I’m so sorry,” Anika said stupidly. She had no idea how to go on. But there was no good in prolonging it.
She took the ring box out of her purse, setting it gently on the table between them.
“Marco,” she said, “I need to give this back to you.”
Marco looked up. It took him a moment to register what was in front of him.
“You’re giving it back,” he said flatly.
“Yes,” she said. In the silence that followed she repeated, “I’m really sorry.”
“You’re sorry.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think that actually means anything?” Marco said, looking up at her. His face was flushed. He looked furious.
“I know the timing is terrible,” Anika said, “but it didn’t seem any kinder to draw it out.”
“Oh, so you’re doing this for me?” Marco laughed. “And I bet it has nothing to do with James Dawson.”
“No,” Anika said truthfully, “it doesn’t. I don’t think you and I are right for one another.”
“How is that possible?” Marco said. “It’s what everyone who knows us wants to happen. We’re perfect for each other. Haven’t I treated you well? Haven’t I given you everything you could want?”
“Yes,” Anika said, “But—”
“But what?” He demanded.
“I just don’t trust you!” Anika cried.
She hadn’t meant to say it, but there it was.
“You’re charming and you’re complimentary, and you do and say all the right things. But I don’t think you know me, not really, and I don’t know you. I can’t see inside of you.”
“You don’t trust me,” Marco said in disbelief. “When I’m the one that bumped into your lover outside your office this morning. Don’t tell me there’s nothing between you, because I saw his face when I told him that you and I were going to be married.”
“What?” Anika cried. “When did you say that?”
“I spoke to him,” Marco said, “before he went inside. I told him I proposed, and he looked devastated. So don’t lie to me and tell me that you’re just friends.”
“You had no right to say that,” Anika said, her voice low and furious.
Marco laughed bitterly. “I’ve told my father too,” he said. “Should I go upstairs and tell him you’ve changed your mind? What a lovely thing for him to hear in his last moments.”
“That’s not fair,” Anika said, tears welling in her eyes. “I told you I needed time. I never promised you.”
“Well, you might want to rethink that,” Marco said, “because I don’t think your billionaire boyfriend is quite the fallback plan you seem to think he is. He only wants revenge, you know that don’t you? He wants to prove he could have you back if he wanted. It won’t last. He’ll drop you the minute he’s got his fix.”
“You don’t know anything about him,” Anika said.
“Of course I do!” Marco said. “He’s a man!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Anika said. “I told you, this has nothing to do with James. You and I aren’t right for each other.”
“You need to reconsider,” Marco said.
“I know how I feel,” Anika replied.
“Fine, but circumstances change,” Marco said cryptically.
“What does that mean?”
“You may not be in a good position soon. I know what your family’s finances are like.”
“Are you threatening me because you’ll own the majority of Bennet Knight soon?”
“I already own it,” Marco said. “My father signed it over to me as soon as I came to the city.”
“That doesn’t change anything,” Anika said.
“It changes everything. I was going to keep this quiet until after the wedding, until after my father passed...but I’ve sold it.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“You can’t,” she said.
“It’s already done. In the articles of incorporation, it states that anyone with more than eighty percent ownership can unilaterally initiate a sale. Your father passed that mark five years ago when he kept selling stock to us.”
“I thought you wanted to make the company great again. I thought you wanted to impress your father.”
“I did,” Marco said, “I did make it great. I streamlined the staff, I secured brand ambassadors, I doubled profitability, I have two more stores ready to open. All in all, I raised the value of the company by nearly thirty percent. Which makes it the perfect time to sell.”
“That’s not what Dominic would want,” Anika said.
“He wants me to make a success of myself,” Marco said, “and I have. He’s only clung to Bennet Knight for so long out of pity for your family. I wasn’t planning to tell him about the sale, but it doesn’t matter now. His doctor said he won’t last the night.”
Anika sat in stunned silence. She couldn’t believe what Marco was saying, but she also didn’t think he was lying just to hurt her.
After all, she remembered how, at the Red Line Dinner, Bennet had complained about an investment group combing through the studio. And before that, Gwen said Marco sent a lawyer to examine the Red Line books while he kept her busy in Aruba.
This was a plan that had been in the works for some time.
“So you sold the Red Line too,” she said, dully.
Marco at least had the grace to look slightly guilty.
“I intended to keep the Red Line,” he said, “at first. But they insisted it be included as part of the deal. It’s not profitable, but it’s good PR, and it sells more every year.”
“I know what it sells,” Anika said.
“My point is, you’re about to be unemployed. And trust funds don’t last forever, especially ones that have been depleted by spendthrift fathers. I won’t hold a grudge, Anika. Take your ring back, put it on your finger, hold my hand and come upstairs to say goodbye to my father. I know how smart you are, how hard working. I have plenty more ideas for the next step after Bennet Knight. I want you by my side.”
Anika looked at Marco.
In that moment, his handsome face hardly looked handsome at all. The harsh light of the cafeteria deepened the hollows of his cheeks and turned the gleam in his green eyes almost manic. She realized that he needed glamorous backdrops—beaches, and starlit nights—as part of his facade.
He had sold something extremely precious to her, her mother’s legacy, with hardly a second thought. He said he wouldn’t hold a grudge against her, but Anika couldn’t say the same. She stood up, leaving the ring on the table.
“Your father was always kind to me,” she said, fighting with all her might to keep her voice steady and calm. “He was a good man, and I’m so sorry for what’s happening to him. Goodbye, Marco.”
“You can’t be serious,” Marco said, as she turned and walked away. “Anika!” he shouted after her.
She forced herself to walk steadily out the front door, her back straight, and then she practically collapsed against the wall outside the hospital. The tears poured down her face, though she wouldn’t allow herself to make any sound. The Red Line, gone, just like that! How would she tell Gwen and Hannah and Calvin? What would she do now?
Her face was on fire. She was grateful for the cool night air. Summer was coming to an end, she could feel the first hint of fall in the light breeze.
God, she was a fool. She couldn’t believe the feelings she had allowed to develop for Marco.
But then she stopped herself. At least she had already planned to break things off before she found out about him selling the company. She wasn’t a complete idiot.
James didn’t know that, however.
Her heart stopped as she realized this. He only knew that Marco had proposed, and he likely believed that she had accepted.
Feverishly, she grabbed her phone and tried to dial his number again.
It didn’t even ring this time, just went straight to voicemail. Had he blocked her?
She tried calling Hannah. Hannah always kept her phone within a foot of her. She answered on the second ring.
“Hello?” Hannah said, and then whispering to someone with her, “Shh, it’s my boss.”
“Hannah!” Anika cried. “Do you know where James is?”
“James?”
Hannah said in confusion. “No, why?”
“I have to speak to him,” Anika said.
“I haven’t seen him or talked to him since the Red Line Dinner,” Hannah said, and then to her unseen companion. “Stop it right now! I’m serious.”
Anika could hear a low male voice murmuring something in a teasing manner.
“Alright,” Anika said, “sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no bother!” Hannah said,
But before she could hang up, Anika cried, “Wait, do you have his address?”
“Yeah,” Hannah said. “His apartment is on 84th Street. I’ll text you the address.”
“Thank you!” Anika said.
She flagged down a cab from the queue out front of the hospital. Hannah had sent the address promptly, and Anika showed it to the cabbie. He drove her over to a building on the upper east side, a tall red-brick complex full of converted lofts.
Hannah had said that James’s unit was 505, but upon entering the lobby, Anika saw she would have to get past the concierge.
“Can you ring unit 505 for me please?” she asked the short, slim, elderly gentleman.
“The owner of unit 505 is not at home, Miss,” the concierge informed her politely.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Anika asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t give out that information,” he said.
Anika looked around the lobby in despair. There was no convenient place where she could wait—it was really just a long hallway in front of the concierge desk, leading to the double bank of elevators.
“Thank you,” she said dejectedly, heading back outside the building. There were no benches or convenient planter boxes out front either. She seated herself at the far corner of the steps leading into the building, hopefully far enough out of view that the concierge wouldn’t immediately come out to shoo her away.
She could wait here, but it was only 9:30. It could be hours until James came home, if he came back at all. And in a neighborhood as nice as this, she would be asked to quit loitering before long.
She sat fidgeting for ten or twenty minutes, trying to think what she could do.