Emilia flicked a tear from the corner of her eye. “I can't have kids,” she whispered.
“But you had Lyra,” I said matter–of–factly.
“Jeremy had always mentioned that he wanted to give Lyra a little brother or sister, but it was a plan for the future. We both knew that. When you came into the picture—back into the picture—he wanted a kid of his own right away. He wanted a kid so much that even before we got married, we decided we would start trying.” Emilia’s hands were trembling and she calmed her nerves with another sip of her wine.
“When I got pregnant with Lyra,” she continued, “it was a miracle. I suffer from uterine failure, and conceiving on my own is nearly impossible. But I guess you had super sperm or something.” She gave me a small smile. “Most of the doctors said I would lose the baby, and the others didn't believe I would carry to term. I had her four weeks early and she is my little miracle.”
I wanted to reach across the table and hug her. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”
“We had so much love in our relationship, but we had so much going on, too. We had only been dating a year, your music career was starting to take off, and I didn't know exactly when to tell you.” Her lips quivered. “I kept getting sick, so I was taking antibiotics, and it was cutting the effect of my birth control. When I turned eighteen, I paid thousands of dollars to have the doctors tell me I couldn't have a baby, so I didn’t think there was any harm. I was only taking the birth control to regulate my period. I should’ve been smarter.”
I bowed my head and waited a few seconds, taking in all the information she gave me. “So now?”
“Now I can't have any kids. We've been trying for a year. I've done fertility treatments. You name it, we've tried it. It's impossible for me to get pregnant now.” Her voice cracked on the last part.
“But that alone shouldn't be reason for divorce.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this. A year ago I had sat outside a house with Pop, wishing I had stopped their wedding.
What is today might not be a year from now.
“I'll never be able to give him a kid. Jeremy's young and he wants kids of his own. I had to let him go. I can't give him what he wants and I shouldn't hold him back. I’ll never be able to truly make him happy, so I had to let him go.”
“I'm sorry.”
Emilia giggled and took another long sip of her wine. “Why are you sorry? If anything you should be thrilled, no? You get Lyra all to yourself now.”
One second she was trembling, and the next she was laughing? “You quit your job, you moved into this massive home and you’re getting divorced, but you didn't tell anyone. Is everything okay?”
“Everything in my life happened so quickly. I met you. I fell in love. I got pregnant. You went to London. I had Lyra and became a mom. For the past five years, I've worked to support her and give her the best life possible, but I’ve realized that I have all this money my parents left me and I can finally use it and be active in her life.” She shrugged. “Why not cherish the small moments? I will find work once Lyra’s in school full time, but until then I want to spend as much time with her as possible, especially now.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” I shook my head. I understood where she was coming from and why she was divorcing him, but why hadn’t she told me?
“Would it have mattered?” She waved her hands. “You had a chance to stop my wedding.” She looked down to the table. “I put our love in a tiny box inside my heart and shut it. I never planned to open it.” She looked up at me, her eyes glassed over with tears. “I gave you an out. I asked you to tell me not to do it and you said we were broken and that we couldn't work out. Then, you showed up on my wedding day and you drove off. You drove off, Weston, so I'm sorry if you weren’t the first person on my list to call when I decided on divorce.” She bowed her head and ran her fingernails through her scalp.
“I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be.” Her voice was hoarse, filled with pain. “I know I was selfish. I was twenty–two with no family here, and I kept thinking about your future and what would happen if I lost Lyra. It was just easier to keep her from you, so I get why you're angry and why you still give me the cold shoulder. But you can’t expect me to turn to you when this is the first real conversation we've had in a year.”
I reached across the table and placed my hand over hers. “Em . . .”
“Don’t,” she whispered. A lone tear trickled down her cheek.
“I still lo—”
“Don't say it, Weston.”
“Mommy! “ Lyra shouted, her little feet pushing off the grass as she sprinted toward us. Emilia quickly pulled her hand away from mine and wiped the tears from her face. “Is Daddy staying for dinner?”
“Lyra, Daddy just took you to Max’s. You can’t be hungry already?” Emilia asked.
“No, I’m not, but I want to show Daddy my room here and my new Lego set,” Lyra said, dancing around. “Can Daddy stay for dinner?”
Emilia smiled and her eyes twinkled as they filled with tears. She brushed them off with her fingers and nodded. “If your father would like to stay for dinner, he can.”
Lyra looked over at me, her hands clapping. “Please, Daddy?”
I knew the conversation I was having with Emilia wasn’t finished, but I also knew she needed to take a break. “Come on, princess, show me around.” I stood and followed behind Lyra as she led me through the house and toward her room.
That day the sun set over the ocean as we sat down and had dinner as a family for the first time. Dinner was easy, relaxed and I saw new days for us on the horizon. But what I didn’t know was that behind that wonderful evening with Lyra and Emilia, there was a storm brewing.
62
WESTON
The following Monday morning, I lay in my bed, staring up at the white ceiling. The shower ran in the bathroom, and though Rosie had asked me to join her, there was something else on my mind. Rosie was my “special lady friend” as Axel called her. It was the only way to describe her, really. We filled the void in each other’s lives. I’d seen her a few times over the past year when I needed a woman in my bed. The woman I loved shared a bed with a different man, so Rosie kept me occupied when I wanted Emilia. It was fucked up, to say the least, but it was the truth.
I met Rosie when she came into the studio to sing a chorus on the track I was working on. She was petite, and her skin was so fair I could see every vein in her body. We’d instantly hit it off, and she understood I didn't want anything serious. She was focused on her own career, so our casual hookups worked for both of us. I didn't know when the next time I’d see her would be, but instead of focusing on her, my mind was absorbed by Emilia.
After Rosie had showered, she dressed and left, and I sat at my kitchen table staring at the Keurig. Something with Emilia’s story seemed off. I wanted to know what Emilia was hiding from me. I sipped on my black coffee when an idea popped into my head. Since she wasn’t telling me, I would have to ask her ex–husband.
I didn't know much about Jeremy except that he was good to Lyra, he was Emilia’s soon–to–be ex–husband and that he worked for a financial firm downtown.
Grabbing my mug, I walked out of the kitchen and into my office. I dug through my desk until I found the portfolio that John, my financial guy, had put together for me. I would need a reason to see Jeremy, and this was my only in.
By Thursday morning, I had an appointment with Jeremy and a couple of his staff members. My meeting was scheduled for ten that morning. The only thing that was on my schedule for that day was to pick up Lyra from her play date at four. If it took me all day to find out what was going on, then so be it.
I parked my car and headed toward the large glass building where RG Financial Group was located on the tenth floor.
I walked out of the elevator and glanced around the office space. It was modern, white walls with exposed beams, and the only warmth came from the blood–red chairs that bled into the backdrop. The reception
ist quickly greeted me and then led me to the back conference room. We were almost at the door when Jeremy called out for me.
“Weston.”
I turned and he extended his hand when he was closer. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”
“Shall we.” Jeremy pulled back the glass door. Three of his account associates joined us. I sat on the end of the table and two sat on each side. “So, what can we do for you?” Jeremy asked.
I placed my portfolio on the table and slid it across to him. “I want to make sure I'm investing my money properly. The band won't be going on tour for a bit as we are all in different places in our lives, so my income won't be the same as it was last year. I'd also like for you to set up a trust fund for Lyra.”
Jeremy looked across at Tom, who quickly opened up a packet and slid it my way.
“Here is what my team has put together. You’re currently investing the majority of your income in a couple of stocks we don't see much potential in. Tom has drafted a plan of action and a projected earning for the next two quarters.”
I looked over the paper as the other associate began to discuss a trust fund for Lyra. I let them all speak and waited for our meeting to be over. I nodded graciously and pretended to be intrigued in what they had to offer, but there was no way I was letting Emilia’s ex–husband manage my money. I didn’t care how great he was.
After we were done, the other associates stood and I shook each of their hands as they left Jeremy and I alone in the conference room. Jeremy gathered his papers, putting them together in one folder before he turned to face me. “Weston, it was a pleasure to see you. I hope we can build you a better portfolio than what you have now.” He retrieved his business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. “If you need anything, please feel free to call. My cell phone is on the card.”
I shook his hand firmly. “Thank you. I wanted to tell you that Emilia told me about what happened to you guys and I'm sorry.”
Jeremy took a step back. “This was never about a portfolio was it?”
“No.” I scratched the back of my head. “I don't want to get into your personal business. Whatever happened between you and Emilia doesn't concern me. But Lyra is really attached to you, and as much as I hate to admit it, you were pretty much a father to her. I don't want her to lose the relationship you two had. I mean, if you and Emilia want to get divorced because you guys can't have a child that’s on you. I personally would've adopted, but who am I to say anything?”
Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed together. “You think she filed for divorce because she can’t have a kid?”
It was my turn to have that confused look on my face. “Yes . . .” I drew out slowly, watching his reaction. “That's what she told me.”
“It's a lot more than that, Weston.”
I fucking knew it. She had been lying to me. “Then what is it?” I demanded.
“It's not my place to tell you.” Jeremy grabbed his files from the table and turned to face me. “You want the truth, you'll have to find out from her, and find out fast.” He inhaled slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Regarding Lyra, I planned to stay in her life, but Emilia won't allow it.”
“Why won't she?” Nothing made any kind of sense. “You helped her raise Lyra.”
“She blames me for everything.”
“For what?” Jeremy was talking in fucking circles.
It's not my place to tell you. You out of everyone should know what she does when shit gets hard. She runs. This is her running. You want to know the truth, go ask her.”
Jeremy was right. If I wanted the truth, I would have to get it from her.
I left his office building and headed straight to Emilia’s house. Lyra was still at school and Em didn't have a job to be at, so I assumed she’d be home.
I slammed the car in park and jogged up her paved sidewalk. I rang the doorbell a couple of times and waited. Aerosmith blasted from inside, the music so loud you could hear it crystal clear from the outside.
I began to bang on her front door. “Em!” I shouted. “Emilia, open up!” My hand ached from slamming it against the wood. I rang the doorbell a few more times. The conversation I had with Jeremy kept replaying in my head. “You want the truth you'll have to find out from her, and find out fast.” “She blames me for everything.”
“Emilia! Open the door!” I shouted until my voice was hoarse.
The music inside lowered, the knob on the door turned, and she yanked the door open. Her big brown eyes were red and puffy, her hair wild and tossed, and her small fingers laced around a bottle of vodka.
Her nose crinkled when she looked at me. “What the hell are doing here?” Her voice was sluggish. “You're supposed to pick up Lyra from her play date.” She leaned into the door for support.
I ignored her statement and walked inside. The scent of alcohol smacked me in the face as I passed. She was drunk. Fucking obliterated. “What aren't you telling me?” I barked.
“I don't know what you're talking about.” She slammed the door shut and moved to walk in front of me.
I quickly stepped in her view, blocking her from moving. “You're drinking. At noon! You're still in your pajamas and your eyes are swollen.”
“Wes—”
“I ran into Jeremy and he let me know that you aren’t getting divorced because you can't have kids.” I walked closer, the rage raising my blood pressure. “And then, I come here and you look like this. What are you not telling me, Emilia?”
She brought the glass bottle to her mouth and swallowed the clear liquid without a flinch as though she was numb to the taste. Her eyes swelled with fresh tears and she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
I never realized that a simple sentence could change my life forever.
A simple phrase. Words bunched together.
She had done it to me before when she drew I love you on my chest.
I don’t love you anymore.
Lyra is your child.
I'm marrying Jeremy.
Those simple words clustered together had changed my life. But what came out of Emilia's mouth rooted through me as it took my heart and destroyed it. Nothing could have prepared me for this.
She inhaled the courage to speak and my heart tightened in my chest. “I have cancer.”
My world stopped.
The air in my lungs vanished. It physically pained me to breathe. Emilia's gaze locked with mine and a lone tear dripped from her eye. My knees buckled, but I caught myself. “No.” My voice was barely a whisper. I shook my head in disbelief. “No,” I repeated.
“Fucking cancer.” She took another swig of the bottle.
“When . . . I stopped to clear my throat. When did you find out?”
She looked up at the ceiling. “Four weeks ago.” She shook her head and lowered her gaze to mine.
“Emmy.” I walked toward her to comfort her, but she held her hand up to stop me.
“Don't. Please don’t. If you touch me, I don't think I can take it. I don't think I'll be able to walk, let alone stand. I’m trying not to lose it but if you touch me I will lose it all.”
“Then talk to me.” I brushed my hands through my hair. “If I can't touch you, then talk to me.”
Her lower lip quivered, her head shook slightly. Emilia’s eyes closed, her chin lowered to her chest. “Lyra won't remember me,” she cried. “She’ll never remember her mother. What memory do you have from when you were five?”
I coiled her in my arms. Her knees buckled and I held on to her. Her whimpers grew louder and she let her soul bleed out. The vodka bottle she held slammed on the floor and rolled away.
“Shh, I've got you, babe.” My voice sounded strained even as I tried to keep my pain inside. Her cries were like sharp metal piercing through my heart. Cradling her close to me, I sat on the wood floor. She pressed her head to my chest and continued to cry out. “If something happens to me, Lyra won't remember. This is karma coming to get me.”
> My chest tightened, tears prickled in my eyes. I swallowed back my own fears of losing her forever and brushed her auburn hair with my fingers.
“Nothing is going to happen to you. I won't let it.”
63
EMILIA
Cancer.
I have cancer.
I have cancer, and I am going to die.
Those grief-stricken thoughts looped through my mind like a broken record. I was twenty-four years old. A single mother. And the same disease that took my mother’s life was now after mine. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, releasing all of the anger that consumed me. I wanted to run away from this life, from my fear of how badly this would all end. And then I wanted to hit the pause button on my life so not a single second would pass and I’d hang on to Lyra forever and ever.
The days when I wasn’t crying, I was laughing. At the irony, at karma. I had kept Lyra away from Weston for four years, and now the universe was trying to take me away from her, forever.
I’d gone through every emotion a person could, and now I didn’t want to be the bigger person in any situation anymore. I was angry at the world and everything in it. I constantly thought of Jeremy, and I understood that he just wanted to be happy and have a family of our own, but I didn’t have any more fucks to give. What he wanted wasn’t a concern of mine anymore. I had to save my fucks for the things that mattered most.
For Lyra.
For Weston.
Each day that passed was another day I lied to Weston. He knew that Jeremy and I divorced due to irreconcilable differences. What he didn’t know was the story behind those differences. He didn’t question a thing I told him, though. And that’s when I also learned that I'd become a really good liar.
The sweetest part of each passing day was that Weston and Lyra were forming a bigger bond. It was comforting to know that, in the event something was to happen to me, he would have her and she wouldn't be all alone in this world like I was.
Love Letter Duet: The Encore Edition Page 35