There’re actually a lot of them with many good reviews.
I put one on and listen.
The host interviews an author of historical romances, who has been rejected by thirty traditional publishers and then turned to self-publishing.
She talks about the desperation she felt when she published her first book, the desperation to sell even one book.
But much to her surprise, readers started discovering her books and downloading them like crazy.
Of course, some of her initial success had to do with beginner’s luck, and her second book didn’t sell as many copies until she researched and planned out a good marketing strategy, which relied heavily on social media advertising.
Now, she sells about fifty thousand books a year, “more than what she would’ve ever sold through any publisher.”
I sit, listening to her talk in amazement.
As soon as the episode is done, I turn back to my laptop and continue writing.
Chapter 33 - Jackson
When she ghosts me…
I keep trying her phone without much success. I keep texting her, but again I hear nothing.
At first I thought that I would be able to get through eventually, but now I’m starting to think that this isn’t just a fight and that she’s actually not interested in seeing me anymore.
A couple of times, I go over to her place and ring the doorbell. No one answers for a long time, until they do.
It’s Julie and she tells me that Harley has no interest in talking to me.
My world turns to black.
I miss her and I want her, and I can’t have her.
I’ve made the terrible mistake of bringing that up and now she has shut me out of her life completely.
I feel like such a fool, I also get angry. I didn’t do anything that terrible. I just posed a question.
I wasn’t questioning her.
I was just leaving the field open for her to admit the truth in case she hadn’t before.
My jaw clenches from the rage that’s boiling up within me.
I’m angry at Woodward, I’m angry at Harley.
But mostly, I’m angry at myself.
I let him get to me.
I let him and his vile thought intrude on my life.
And now…the one good thing I had in it is gone.
If she won’t answer my calls and she won’t answer my texts or the door, and the emails I send to her go unanswered, maybe she’ll at least read my letters.
I pick up a pen and paper and start the first letter.
Even though the market for my particular property doesn’t look promising, I give the realtor the okay to list it for sale.
It’s priced low for a quick sale, and if this goes through then I won’t make much more than a million dollars in profit.
That’s not that much on a property that cost me thirty.
But at least I won’t have a large mortgage hanging over my head and it will give me some cash flow to deal with the Minetta situation.
After the photographer comes through, the realtor hosts the first open house, and I take the Bentley for a drive.
I go nowhere in particular, just north. I drive all the way to North Riverdale before I turn around and head back to Manhattan.
Once I’m back in town, I again circle around and stop by Harley’s place.
Again, she refuses to meet with me.
Again, I promise myself that I’m going to give up, but I know that I won’t.
I come back home just after the open house is complete.
“Uh oh,” I say when I see the realtor’s disappointing look. “That bad?”
“No, not at all.” He shakes his head and puts on a brave face. I roll my eyes.
“It will pick up. It was just a bad day.”
“Okay,” I say, not really believing his bullshit.
But what choice do I have?
When he packs up his stuff and leaves, I plop on the couch and make myself comfortable in front of the television.
I watch a few episodes of whatever, lost in a mindless stupor.
The only thing that gets me off the couch is the delivery guy who shows up with food from my favorite Indian place.
Then, suddenly, around nine that evening the doorbell rings.
I’m not expecting anyone and I jump up excited.
It’s her.
It has to be her.
I glance at myself in the mirror and straighten out my hair.
The doorbell rings again.
There’s no time to change clothes; these sweats will just have to do.
I open the door with a big wide smile on my face.
It quickly evaporates once I see who is on the other side.
“Expecting someone else?”
“Hoping for someone else,” I say without missing a beat.
“Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that.” She pushes right past me and walks into the foyer.
“Yes, please come in,” I say sarcastically.
“I will, thank you.” She waves her hand and walks directly to the kitchen.
She grabs a glass from the cupboard and helps herself to some water from the tap.
“Don’t forget, this is my house as well.”
“Was,” I correct her.
She spins on her high heeled boots to face me.
Pushing her sandy blond hair up with one hand, she takes off her dark sunglasses.
That’s when I see it.
Her left eye is entirely black and blue.
“Oh, shit, what happened?”
She opens the freezer and grabs a bag of peas.
Pressing them lightly to her face, she gives me a shrug.
Her scarf slides off her perfectly tailored jacket from Saks Fifth Avenue, no doubt, and exposes more bruises.
“Aurora, what happened?”
“Just a side effect of being married to a European royal.”
“This is not funny.”
“It’s not the first time.”
“Why are you still with him?”
“Because he buys me diamonds, cars, and houses and I get to have dinner with the Queen,” she says with her usual dry sense of humor. “Because I love him, you idiot.”
I stare at her, shaking my head.
“Aren’t you going to offer to take my coat?”
“Can I take your coat?” I ask, absentmindedly.
She rolls her eyes and walks back out of the front door.
“Ah, it’s finally here!” she says, coming back with a suitcase.
I suddenly snap out of my trance. “Aurora, what are you doing?”
“I’m staying here.”
“No, you’re not.”
“This house is mine.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I helped you pay for it behind my husband’s back. So, letting me stay here is the least you can do.”
It’s more of a statement than a request, but I’m used to her crude manners.
Confronting her head-on isn’t always the best approach.
“Why don’t you go stay at a hotel?”
“I want to be near family,” she says in that whimsical way of hers.
“I’m not your family.”
“Jackson, we got divorced. That doesn’t mean we ever stopped being family.”
I take a deep breath and follow her to the guest room on the first floor.
This has always been one of her favorite rooms.
I place her suitcase by the door.
“Fine, but you can’t stay long.”
Finally, her nonchalant demeanor changes and she whispers, “Thank you.”
Chapter 34 - Jackson
Surprise…
Running her long manicured fingernails along the quartz countertop of the kitchen island, Aurora looks around the room.
She is dressed in a short black dress with long black sleeves, which ties in the front.
Dark charcoal leggings and matching ankle boots.
Her Louis V
uitton purse lays on the dining room table while her Louis Vuitton suitcase is tucked away in one of the downstairs guest rooms.
How the hell did this happen?
Only half an hour ago, I went to the door thinking that Harley had finally forgiven me.
And now…my ex-wife is shacking up with me.
As she looks around, she finishes her glass of water and quickly pours herself another.
“Particularly thirsty?” I ask.
She pulls out her phone and enters something into an app.
“I’m tracking my water intake now. I’m aiming for one and a half to two gallons a day.”
“That seems like a lot.”
“It’s actually not. Apparently, most people are dehydrated and they don’t even know it. So, they end up thinking that they’re hungry when they’re not.”
I nod.
Ever since I’ve known her, Aurora has always been doing one health-related challenge or another.
Once she ate only cabbage soup for two weeks straight, the cayenne pepper, lemon water, and something else cleanse.
And, of course, there were the usual suspects, too.
South Beach Diet, Atkins, and who knows what else.
She has always been a beautiful woman with long legs and a trim figure. I’m not sure if any of these efforts were necessary, but she loves researching and trying out the latest diets and “approaches to healthy living,” as she used to call them.
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask.
I guess if she’s going to stay here, I have to play host.
“Um, sure, why not?” she says. “But let me see what you have. I’m actually in the middle of this thirty-day Whole30 challenge.”
“What is that?”
“No processed foods of any kind. No sugar. No grains or legumes. No dairy. And I don’t eat meat anymore.”
“So, what does that leave?”
“Lots of healthy options. Leafy vegetables. Fruits, though I’m trying to limit them. Eggs. Fish.”
“How’s it going?”
She opens my refrigerator and scans the empty shelves for possible options.
“Well, actually. I can’t remember what day I’m on, but the first week was really hard, but then I got used to it.”
I pull out a bag of kale and a box of organic free range eggs. She nods in approval.
“What are you going to do after it’s over?”
“Will definitely keep away from the processed foods as much as possible and the dairy.”
“But you love cheese.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but I quit eating meat because of the way that animals are treated, and the dairy industry isn’t that much better. They forcefully impregnate cows so they can give birth every year and then take away their babies.”
Given all of her faults, Aurora has always had a very kind heart when it comes to animals.
“How are your horses?” I ask. She often posts pictures of herself riding around her ranch in Luxembourg.
“They’re wonderful. I miss them terribly, of course. Oh, Elizabeth, my black mare, you would absolutely love her. She reminds me a lot of you.”
I smile.
Some would take that as an offense being compared to a horse, but I know that from Aurora, it’s one of the highest compliments she can offer.
“How’s that?” I ask.
“Well, she was saved from a barn fire when I rescued her. She was sort of shut down for a while; it took her a long time to go out into the pasture with the others.”
Wow, I did not expect this conversation to go there so quickly.
My jaw clenches up as I consider how to respond.
“I didn’t mean that in a mocking way, Jackson. All I wanted to say is that I’m glad that you’re…feeling better.”
“I need a drink,” I say, reaching for a bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet. “You want one?”
She narrows her eyes, thinking. “Um…yes…no. No, I’m going to be strong.”
Aurora was never much of a drinker, so I’m a bit surprised that she has developed a problem.
“Are you…quitting?”
“No. It’s a part of the thirty-day challenge. No alcohol.”
That doesn’t stop me from pouring myself a drink.
“But I’ll join you,” she says, reaching for one of the wine glasses. She pours her water into it.
When I’m about to take a sip, she stops me. “I wanted to say something first. Thank you so much for letting me stay here for a few days. Things are kind of tough right now and…I really appreciate you being my friend.”
We clink our glasses.
I pour a bit of olive oil into the pan and heat it up.
I toss the kale into it first, covering it with a lid.
“This is going to be a very healthy meal,” I say. “Probably the healthiest I’ve had in a long time.”
“Well, you sure don’t look it.” Aurora smiles.
“What do you mean?”
“You look…really good. Fit…as always.”
It sounds like she’s hitting on me, but she’s not.
She’s just stating her opinion.
Being with someone who has known me for a very long time gives our interaction a natural ebb and flow.
We know what we mean without any confusion.
There’s no second-guessing.
There’s no misdirection.
On the other hand, there’s also no surprise.
“So tell me what’s been going on,” I say, cracking the eggs into the pan.
I’m about to scramble them, but she stops me, wanting to keep hers sunny side up.
I don’t have a preference and let them all go.
“You mean this?” She points to her black eye.
I wasn’t exactly getting at that, but if she wants to start there, I won’t object.
“Andrew and I have always had a bit of a volatile relationship.”
“You don’t say,” I say sarcastically.
Andrew is Prince Andrew of Luxembourg, the nephew of the current Grand Duke Sebastian of Luxembourg, who is basically the King or the sovereign of the country.
They don’t have any political powers, but just like the English monarchy they live in big mansions, do philanthropic work, and are fodder for local gossip magazines.
“You know you don’t have to be with someone who puts his hands on you, right?” I say.
She laughs. “Oh, Jackson, I had forgotten how noble and innocent you are when it comes to marriage.”
“Is that really such a crazy thing to say?”
She laughs, that kind of laugh that is a cover for something.
And then she shakes her head and looks away.
Chapter 35 - Jackson
When we talk…
As we eat, Aurora opens up to me.
She has been married to Andrew for more than a few years now, and things were never that bad before.
They always had what she calls a “volatile” relationship, a code word for toxic, frantic, and out of control.
That’s one of the reasons why we never worked.
I’ve never been one for loud, explosive fights that last all night and into the next day.
A part of her thrives on chaos. She seeks it out.
Before me, she was involved with a married man whose car she lit on fire, and soon after me she met Andrew.
They partied hard, played hard, and fought even harder.
“He never laid his hands on me before, until this year. We were always able to just…break stuff to get his frustrations out.”
I nod.
“And he never cheated on me before either.”
“He’s cheating on you?”
“He denies it, of course, but I know that he is. He has known her for years. She’s part of the Swedish monarchy, his second cousin removed or something like that. You know how they’re all related. Well, there was this big party for New Year’s and I saw them together. In the corner, alone. Kissi
ng.”
“What did you do?”
“I confronted him about it that night in our room. And he got violent. That was the first time he ever hit me.”
Her eyes tear up, but she pushes her tears away.
“Why…why are you still with him?”
She shakes her head.
“I mean, you don’t need the money. You don’t need the title. You don’t need him.”
She shakes her head again. “I love him.”
I take a deep breath, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
Aurora and I have had our share of drama, but now I feel like our relationship has morphed into something resembling a brother and sister.
Very distant brother and sister.
She calls me when she’s in crisis.
She talks.
I listen.
Give her some advice, which she doesn’t follow.
And then I don’t hear from her for a few months, maybe a year.
There was a time, a long time ago, when I did hate her the way divorced people are supposed to.
And I had good reason.
When she first left, she took off without saying a word.
One day she was there, being a mother, not a very present one but still.
And the next, she just vanished.
Later that evening, I got an email from her saying that she’d flown to London and wouldn’t be back for a bit.
Lila, our daughter, was just a baby so she never really knew her, but when she got older she kept asking why she didn’t have a mother and I didn’t really have an answer for her.
Soon after partying her way around London, she was hospitalized and placed on a mental hold at a psychiatric hospital.
Apparently, she was going through a major psychotic breakdown as a result of postpartum depression.
I felt like such a fool for not paying attention to any of the signs and my heart softened a bit when it came to her.
She married Andrew two days after our divorce was finalized and refused to see Lila again.
I wish she had, but she always maintained that it would’ve been too painful and her therapist had advised her to think of Lila as a child she gave up for adoption, to me.
It turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I didn’t have to deal with custody issues.
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