War and Love

by Winter Renshaw

  “Of course.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear and watch the screen go dark when she hangs up, but before I place it back on the charger, I pull up my photos. Scrolling past the recent ones from my getaway with Tierney, I find a whole myriad of photos Jude and I had taken together—mostly selfies—and I study our faces, our smiles, the positions of our hands, all the things that probably don’t matter at this point, but still, a part of me wants to know if any of it was ever real for him.

  Swiping a few more times, I stop when I come across a photo of me that he took when I wasn’t looking. I’m sitting at a little wrought iron table outside a coffee shop, reading a book I’d picked up that morning. There’s a wildflower—one he’d picked for me on the way—tucked behind one ear, and I’m completely engrossed in my tome.

  I swipe again. And again. Stopping when I find another photo he took of me when I wasn’t looking. This one’s from the week of Cameo’s wedding. I’m dancing with my grandmother at the reception—Jump, Jive and Wail I think it was, and he snapped the photo mid-twirl.

  By the time I finish going through the rest of the photos, I find a handful of other candid shots, all of them almost artistic in nature, framed and angled perfectly, capturing the beauty in all of these mundane little moments.

  Why would he do that if this entire thing was nothing but a meaningless charade?

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Jude

  “Vinnie, hand me that basin wrench, will you?” I ask, crouched beneath the sink in a remodeled hospital bathroom.

  It’s been a week since I left The Jasper, guitar in hand.

  I keep expecting to get a knock at the door. I keep waiting for her to come and find me, to demand to know why I walked out of her life … but the knock never comes.

  Today marks four days back with Premier Plumb and Supply.

  It also marks four days working at Lenox Hill Hospital on the Upper East Side—Love’s stomping grounds.

  Every morning when I get here, I search the sidewalks for her face. When I leave for lunch, I do the same. The end of the day is no different. I don’t even know what I’d do if I ran into her … guess I just want to see if she’s okay.

  “Hey, Vinnie,” I say, turning the wrench. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done before?”

  Vinnie lets out a big-bellied chuckle. “Can you get more specific? I’ve done a lot of shit in my day, kid.”

  He always calls me “kid” despite the fact that I’m thirty and he’s only got about twelve years on me, if that.

  “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done to a woman,” I say, “like a girlfriend or your wife or something.”

  Crouching down and grabbing a strap wrench from the box between us, he groans as he rises, his knees popping.

  “I dunno, kid,” he says. “I did a lot of shit in my younger days, but I’ve been married thirteen years now and never once cheated on my old lady, so I like to think that makes up for it. Why do you ask? You do something? You having lady troubles?”

  I sniff. “Something like that.”

  “Lay it on me. Maybe I can help.”

  “It’s a long story. Complicated.” I twist the wrench again and check the fitting to make sure it’s secure before climbing out from under there.

  “Kid, the day is young. It’s you and me for the next eight hours.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re being nosy or if you genuinely want to be helpful.”

  Vinnie chuckles. “Little of both, maybe. If I’m being honest.”

  “This guy basically hired me to date his ex.” I can’t give him specifics due to the NDA, but I can give him the gist of the situation.

  “Ooooh,” Vinnie claps his hands together. “I knew it was going to be good, but I didn’t know it was going to be this good. She find out?”

  “Nah,” I say. “I ended up liking her. She ended up liking me. I was going to break it off because it was the right thing to do, only I never got the chance. Her ex basically removed me from the situation.”

  “Damn.”

  “She thinks I left without saying goodbye.” I dig around in the tool box until I find the connector o-ring I’m looking for. “Just hate that I hurt her, and I hate that I never got to say sorry.”

  “Listen.” Vinnie splays his hand flat and leans close, like he’s about to give me some advice under the table. “Women are the weaker sex—but only physically. Their hearts are Teflon. I swear to you. They can take a hit emotionally and you’d never be able to tell. Resilient, that’s what they are. Anyway, I assure you, she’s going to move on and she’s going to forget all about you. You’ll just be that jerk ex that she’s always afraid she’s going to run into. Don’t beat yourself up about the way it went down.”

  We finish up this bathroom before starting on the next and by the time we’re finished with that one, it’s lunch.

  “You want anything from the deli?” I offer Vinnie before dodging out.

  “Nah. I’m hitting up the cafeteria today.”

  I check the time and head toward the deli up the street from The Jasper. Love and I used to stop there sometimes, and every once in a while she’d pop in there for blueberry bagels and coffee.

  Every day this week I’ve grabbed lunch from there. I suppose it’s because it’s the only place I can go where I still feel her. And sometimes, I swear I see the two of us standing in line, my hands around her waist. She’s smiling, resting the back of her head against my shoulder as she studies the menu even though she gets the same thing every time.

  But today, just like the last few days, I hit the deli, stand in line, order my lunch, and leave without a single sign of Love.

  On the way back to Lenox Hill, I take a detour past The Jasper and kill the extra fifteen minutes I have left, stopping at the fountain.

  Two kids splash in the water, dipping their hands over the marble ledge and laughing, and two teenage girls take a selfie in front of the sculpture of the couple under the umbrella. I sit for a moment, taking it all in. The sights. The sounds. The reminders of some of the happiest weeks I’ve ever known.

  And when it’s time to leave, I pass the fountain one last time, tossing in a quarter for no reason at all.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Love

  With an armful of grocery bags, I maneuver the Fifth Avenue sidewalks, making a beeline for my building the second I spot it. By the time I reach the lobby, my arms are dying. I thought about having my groceries delivered, but I needed to get out of the apartment today. I needed to do something normal and ordinary and productive.

  Passing under the black awning and heading toward the lobby, I glance toward the fountain for a split second. And in that split second, I spot a man with Jude’s sandy hair and tall swagger, but it’s only the back of him.

  From here I make out a stained white t-shirt and ragged jeans, and then he’s gone.

  I doubt it was him, but only because I see him everywhere. I see him in places he couldn’t possibly be. It isn’t fair the way my mind constantly plays tricks on me when all I want to do is forget he was ever a part of my life.

  Sometimes I think about what I’d say to him if I ever run into him, and I always decide I’d ask one question and one question only: why?

  Nothing else matters.

  Heading inside, I make my way to my apartment and unload my groceries with shaky arms that tell me I need to incorporate push-ups into my daily routine.

  The buzz of my phone in my purse fills my quiet apartment as I place the last item in a cupboard, and when I retrieve it, Tierney’s name flashes on the screen.

  “Hey,” I answer, cradling the phone on my shoulder as I reach for a stack of mail I’ve yet to sort. “What’s up?”

  “Love, it’s Josh.” Tierney’s husband is on the other end, his voice breathy and his words hurried. “Tierney’s in labor and we’re en route to Lenox Hill, but we don’t have time to stop at home and grab her overnight bag.”

  She wasn’t due
for two more weeks … I bet she’s freaking the hell out right now.

  “I’m on it,” I say. Tierney’s voice is muffled in the background, but I can hear her rhythmic panting followed by the distinct sound of a woman in severe pain. My uterus cringes in sympathy. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Ordering an Uber, I collect my keys and wallet and book it to the lobby to wait for my ride. Tierney lives in the Upper West Side, so we zag across the city before zipping back to 77th where the driver deposits me at the main entrance of the hospital also known as “The Lenox Hilton.” At least that’s what Tierney told me after she toured birthing suites that came complete with private chefs.

  I locate the maternity ward and drop her bag off at the front desk, texting Tierney and Josh’s phones to know it’s there, and then I find a spot in the waiting room and grab a Better Homes and Gardens magazine from a stack on the table beside me. It was either that, Hi-Lites, or Country Living.

  I’m halfway finished with an article on how to roast rutabagas the proper way when Josh bursts through the waiting room doors in scrubs, a delirious smile on his face. Scanning the waiting room, he finally finds me.

  “It’s a boy!” he says.

  “Holy shit, she had the baby already?” I rise from my chair, feeling as dazed as Josh looks. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, Tierney’s as impatient as they come. It’s only fitting that her firstborn child is too.

  Josh makes his way toward me and I give him a congratulatory hug. He hasn’t stopped beaming since he burst through those doors.

  “We thought she was going to be delivering in the lobby. Barely made it up here in time,” he says with a soft chuckle, though I can only imagine how terrified he was at the time. “They’re still cleaning him up, but I’ll come back and get you in a few so you can meet him.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  * * *

  “This is for sure your kid,” I say. Holden Joshua Castle is the spitting image of his mother. “Dramatic entrance. Full head of auburn hair. Loud voice. Loves to sleep.”

  Tierney watches as I cradle her baby in my arms and sway back and forth, soaking in his sweet perfection. Baby Holden rests in my arms, sleeping with his little hands tucked against his face, not a care in the world. He’s completely in the moment, as he should be. He doesn’t care where he came from. He’s not worried about where he’s going (yet). He’s just here. With us.

  Studying his button nose and rosy lips and chubby cheeks, I see more than a newborn baby. I see a new beginning. I decide right here, right now that as soon as I leave this room, I’m only focusing on the things that matter, things that make my life better.

  Nothing else is worthy of my time or energy.

  I promise to live in the moment and embrace it.

  I promise to be present so I can experience life in real time and not in flashback reels in my mind as I lie in bed at night thinking of all the ways I could’ve handled things differently.

  “Love?” Tierney asks.

  I glance up from Holden. “Yeah?”

  “Can I have my baby back?”

  Chuckling, I carry him back to the hospital bed, back to Tierney’s warm embrace, teary eyes, and swollen face.

  “What kind of parents do you think you’ll be?” I ask when Josh comes back from making calls.

  Tierney shrugs, her gaze still glued to her baby like she can’t believe he’s real. “The kind that wing it?”

  “We didn’t read a single baby book,” Josh says. “Didn’t take a single class.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed by that or concerned for the welfare of the child?” I tease. The two of them are the most laidback couple I’ve ever met. They won’t be helicopter parents who pawn their child off on nannies and keep their child psychiatrist on speed dial in case of. “I kid. Holden’s a lucky little guy. He’s going to have a blast with you guys.”

  A knock at the door steals our moment, and a second later, Tierney’s parents shuffle in, arms full of flowers and balloons. Heartfelt sentiments fill the room. Camera flashes. Oohs and aahs every time Holden yawns or makes a face as he soils his tiny diaper.

  Rising on my toes, I mouth to Tierney that I’m going to run and grab a bite to eat.

  Sneaking out of the room, I follow the signs to the cafeteria, which of course is in an entirely different wing and several floors below and this hospital is basically a maze, but I continue on my quest.

  Turning a corner at the end of a long hall, I stop short, nearly tripping myself, to avoid colliding with a man in a white t-shirt.

  “I’m so sor—” I’m silenced when I find myself staring at a familiar pair of dusty green eyes, only the rest of him is unrecognizable. His hair is messy, slightly longer than before, and it’s matted against his forehead like he’s kept it under a hat most of the day. His jeans, stained and torn, hang low on his hips, and a tool belt is secured around his narrow waist. “Jude?”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Jude

  “Love.” I say the name I never thought I’d get a chance to say out loud again. I always thought seeing her again would be surreal or dreamlike, but this is anything but. She’s standing so close I can smell her faded perfume and her favorite lavender conditioner. I can hear her breaths as they shorten and quicken the longer she stares at me. I could reach out and touch her if I wanted to—but I won’t. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

  The shock on her face fades, replaced with a line between her brows.

  Taking a step back, she says, “You don’t get to ask me that.”

  “Love,” I begin to say, but she bypasses me and continues down the hall. Following after her, I catch up with her next to a service elevator.

  She looks amazing: her blonde hair dripping in soft waves around her face, her lips slicked in cherry Chapstick, nothing but Levi’s and a t-shirt to complete her look.

  “How much do you know?” I ask, knowing full well this is dangerous territory. I’m not allowed to bring any of this up to her, let alone speak to her.

  Her arms fold across her chest. She won’t look at me. “I know enough.”

  Releasing a harbored breath, I say the words I never thought I’d get a chance to say, “I’m so sorry, Love.”

  Her glassy hazel eyes flick to mine for a second before returning to the carpeted floor.

  “There’s so much I wish I could tell you … but I can’t,” I say. “And I can’t even tell you why I can’t tell you.” I huff. “But I want you to know, that the parts that mattered? The parts where you felt something? That was real. I felt something too.”

  She says nothing, only stands there with her arms tight against her chest, worrying her bottom lip.

  “I miss you,” I say. “I think about you every single day.”

  I leave it at that because I’ve already said too much, and it seems to be falling on deaf ears anyway.

  We stand in silence for a minute, still and unmoving. I’m not going anywhere unless she wants me to.

  A moment later, Love finally looks at me again, her full lips parting as she begins to say something.

  “Goodbye, Jude.” Pushing past me, she heads back toward the hallway where we collided and I stay put until she disappears.

  I thought I’d feel better once I got the chance to see her again and finally apologize. Turns out I was wrong. Seeing Love so guarded, so closed off, so different from the woman I got to know, only adds to my guilt. And knowing she was right in front of me and I couldn’t touch her, couldn’t kiss her, sends a tightness to my chest that threatens to steal the air from my lungs.

  I can only hope she heard what she needed to hear tonight and that it’s all she needs to move on and find someone who can make her as happy as she made me.

  That’s all I want for her.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Love

  “Who’s next?” Cameo scans the sheet of paper I gave her this morning when we first arrived at my newly-leased Agenda W building for interviews.
>
  By the time her honeymoon tan faded, Cameo realized that being a stay at home housewife isn’t as glamourous as she thought it would be and promptly booked a flight to the city to help me staff this place. Plus, she thinks I’m falling apart ever since the Jude thing came to light and she said she feels like she needs to be here to get me through this.

  But I’m not complaining. Help is help.

  “Connie Berger,” I say, reading off the list. “But that’s not until one.”

  It’s been a week since I ran into Jude at Lenox Hill Hospital, and now that Agenda W is getting off the ground, I’m going to be spending a lot more time in Brooklyn. I’m bound to run into him again, and every time I step outside this building, I find myself scanning the area, wondering if he’s in the vicinity.

  I wanted to tell him off last week. And I was so close. But something stopped me, something held me back. Every time I tried, I couldn’t get the words off my tongue.

  Maybe it was softness in his eyes, the remorse in his tone, or the apology I wasn’t expecting … but I found myself speechless.

  And then I got the hell out of there.

  “Think I’m going to grab some fresh air and an iced coffee. Want anything?” I ask Cameo as she thumbs through honeymoon pictures on her phone and posts one on her Instagram with a “throwback Thursday” hashtag.

  “No, thank you.” She grabs her Dean and Deluca cup lifting it to show me.

  Only the best for Cam.

  Slipping my bag over my shoulder, I head out and walk two blocks to a Starbucks on the corner. It’s late July and literally hot as hell, but the sun feels nice as it warms the top of my head, and the cold coffee is going to be just what I need to get through the rest of the interviews this afternoon.

  Heading in once I get there, I find a place in line and peruse the menu even though I already know what I’m getting.