“Sir,” I call to the driver, clearing my throat. “Can you take me to the main airport, please?”
Slade turns around. “The private jet is ready for you.” He sounds confused.
“I want to go to the regular airport,” I repeat with as much strength as I can muster. “I no longer want to go back to L.A. I need to get to New York.” My voice comes out strong and determined, and as words leave my lips, I feel an immediate sense of relief—as though I’m doing right.
I have a weekend before work Monday morning, and I want to go home—my real home—and sort this out. I actually believe every word Vincent said, but I need confirmation and answers from someone other than him. Angelo is in New York. It’s time I hear the truth straight from his lips.
Not least, I’m sick and tired of running away from my past. It wasn’t until I saw Vincent again that I realized how much pain I was carrying. Until I clear it up, I can’t move forward with my life the way I need. I grip my purse, bringing it to my chest as I try not to bawl.
21
EVE
LaGuardia is gray and cold. Within twenty minutes of landing, I’m sitting in the back of a yellow cab telling it to take me to Seventy-Fifth Street and Second Avenue.
I enter Janelle’s boutique hair salon, smiling wide, all of her white chairs are filled with clients getting cuts, color, and blow-dry. The place evokes a cool downtown style with 90s supermodels like Christie Brinkley, Claudia Schiffer, and Naomi Campbell gracing her walls in oversized black-and-white prints.
The salon is located uptown and designed to cater to rich girls who don’t want their hair done by their moms’ snooty colorists. I smile, trying not to roll my eyes at these teenagers and early twenty-somethings scrolling their phones, probably checking out the latest social media posts while having their hair brightened blonde. As Janelle likes to joke, these little shits are the ones paying top dollar for her services. So, as far as she’s concerned, God bless ‘em!
Before the girl at the front desk—who looks more model than human—can ask me who I’m seeing today, Janelle comes barreling toward me from the back of the salon.
“You bitch! You came without telling me!” she squeals, jumping up and down and throwing her arms around me. “How was Nevada? Ohmygod you look gorgeous!” She takes my hand, dragging me to the couch by the door.
We sit with our knees touching. She’s still the light to my dark. The free spirit to my seriously focused.
“It was cool,” I start. “I got a lot done—” I open my lips to continue, but the words catch in my throat as tears gather in the corners of my eyes. She encases me in a warm hug. Janelle smells like a floral vanilla. It’s different from her usual scent, but it’s still my sister.
Letting me go, I take a hard swallow as she pulls the clip from my hair. “You need a haircut.” She grins. “I love it long like this, but let me trim your ends. I know we’ve got a shit ton to talk about, but everything will be better with good hair and some wine.”
I can only nod, afraid that if I even try to speak, I’ll cry. Luckily, Janelle knows this by just looking at me. “Quick wash first. I’ll squeeze you between clients.” She turns around, raising a hand in the air.
A young girl with a white crop top and pink streaks in her platinum hair comes running to us nervously. “Yes, Janelle?” She bites a glossy pink lip.
“Hi, Angeline. Wash. Two shampoos.” Janelle’s voice is commanding as she stares at the girl in that no-nonsense New York way. I missed this and can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve been here. I’m quickly escorted to a chair in front of a small white sink. Once seated, Angeline places a warm towel behind my back—a nice touch.
The water turns on and I try and relax. The moment she scrubs my scalp with her fingertips, I have to try not to moan out in pleasure. Holy shit but this girl can wash!
Finally sitting in Janelle’s stylist chair, Angeline taps my shoulder. “Can I bring you a coffee or tea? We have cappuccino, latte, regular, and decaf. Teas include green, black, and chamomile.”
I turn to Janelle, smiling at her as if to say—damn girl, you did well!
“I’ll take a cappuccino. Skim, please,” I ask politely.
She walks away as my sister begins trimming my ends. Janelle tells me it’s called dusting. “Hopefully you won’t notice any change in length, but the hair, in general, will have bounce and freshness.”
There’s so much I want to tell her. I open my mouth to start.
“Just sit tight for now, okay? Let me do your hair. Tonight, when I’m home, we’ll talk. I’m assuming this is about Vincent, right?” She shakes her head in anger.
I pull out my e-reader and open up an old favorite, reveling in the comfort of a good book while my sister takes care of me. I can be the big boss all I want in L.A. But within a second of being near Janelle, I’m back to being the baby. I would expect that feeling to annoy me, but it doesn’t.
Forty minutes later, she tells me to lift my head and take a look. My hair is shining; dark waves fall down to the center of my boobs. I feel like...me.
She hands me a set of keys. “Go to my apartment. I’ll be there around eight.”
“I may go see Angelo early tonight.” I step in for a hug.
“He’s going to be thrilled. Always complaining that you never come home.” She raises her eyebrows accusingly.
“Yeah, I know.” Guilt rises up. It’s been seven years since I’ve been back to the city. If Janelle hadn’t come to visit, I probably never would have seen her. But, I’m here now.
I tip Angeline as she hands me my luggage. Walking the few blocks to Janelle’s apartment, I let my mind wander to Vincent.
Deep in my gut, I know that he’s right about my work. I’d be happier doing something that actually helps people. It’s not as if real estate transactions were ever my dream. In fact, it came to me by happenstance. A friend in law school mentioned that Crier, the best firm in Los Angeles, was hiring. I went ahead and applied. When they offered me a job in their real estate department, I felt like—how could I turn it down? The money was phenomenal and it was so well known. So, I said yes. And now, here I am.
Using my legal degree to actually benefit the world is obviously more my speed. But I couldn’t do it just because Vincent said so. Can’t he see that? This is something I’ve got to think about for myself. I’ve spent the last however-many years of my life planning to be a lawyer; making partner was always the big goal. And it’s so close, I can smell it. Sure, it’s nothing like I thought it would be. And Vincent’s not wrong that I’m unhappy. Still, it was always “the plan.” Truthfully, I’m not even sure why making partner is so important. I can continue practicing law in a different capacity, and like he said, be my own boss.
Finally getting to Janelle’s, I take the elevator up to the third floor and walk down the narrow hallway to apartment 6B. The space is a small one-bedroom, overlooking a courtyard with a wooden bench and patchy grass. It’s not fancy, but it’s just right—so much warmer than my apartment back in L.A.
A small photo of us hangs in her hallway; it’s the two of us on the Blue Houses’ stoop making kissy faces to the camera. I smile in surprise, having no idea she had this picture. We look so young. My baggy sweatshirt reaches my knees. God, I’ve come a long way. We both have.
I drop my things in the corner of her blue and white bedroom and pull out my phone from my purse. Disappointment ravages through my chest; he still hasn’t called. Of course, he hasn’t. I tried not to compulsively check my phone, but now that I’ve broken the seal, I’ll probably be staring at it every other second.
Dialing Angelo, I let him know that I’m home. He’s surprised, but also excited. I ask him to meet me for dinner tonight at a small Italian place I noticed on my walk over to Janelle’s. We agree on six o’clock.
The restaurant is warm and cozy, complete with interior red-brick walls and candles lining the white-clothed tables. I scan the nearly empty room, finding Angelo at a table i
n the back corner. Walking toward him, he stands to greet me. We talk regularly, but I haven’t seen him face to face since he brought me out to California. To my relief and happiness, he still smells and looks the same. Red and blue striped shirt and dark slacks. Aqua de Gio cologne. I couldn’t stop my smile if I tried.
After a long and drawn-out hug, I take my seat across from him.
“Look at you! Fancy and gorgeous,” he says with pride, lifting up a cup of tap water and taking a sip.
“Oh, please.” I shake a hand in front of my face dismissively. “You know I just clean up well.”
I took my time getting dressed this evening by putting on my makeup as meticulously as I could and choosing the classiest outfit in my suitcase. I guess I just wanted to show Angelo that I really and truly changed my life. Maybe I also wanted to prove it to myself.
My white button-up shirt is sheer, but not see-through. With my jeans in Janelle’s washer, I opted for a pair of tan straight-leg trousers and nude Louboutin round-toe pumps.
“I missed you, doll,” he tells me earnestly, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Finally, I notice the guilt swimming in his eyes. I swallow hard, knowing in my gut what’s about to happen.
“Angelo,” I start, clearing my throat. “I’m here for a reason.” The waiter steps over, dropping a basket of bread and a small plate of olive oil in front of us. We both look up to thank him before he walks away.
“I figured.” He shrugs sadly as if he has an inkling of what I need to discuss. “Talk to me.” With elbows resting on the table, he shortens the distance between us.
“Well, I’ve seen Vincent.” I stop to gauge his reaction—he’s surprisingly calm. “I’ve been helping him on the Milestone, as his attorney. And he hinted at some things about our past. So, I’m ready to hear it all from you. Because you know how much I love and trusted y—” my voice breaks. “And you swore over and over. You swore it, Angelo. And—”
He shakes his head, putting out a warm hand to cover mine. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He speaks quickly, defending himself. “I just wanted to help. Vincent knew how close me and you were...”
Tears drip down my face as he finally tells the whole agonizing story, hands moving quickly through the air as he delivers the painful details. After so adamantly swearing to those lies all those years ago—that Vincent was cheating and a liar, he’s shockingly forthcoming with the truth: it was all a sham. Then again, a lot of time has passed.
Finally, he stops. I stare at him in silence, noticing sweat beading on his forehead. It’s clear no one wanted to propel the lie, but neither Angelo nor Vincent thought there was a better option. My life was on the line because of our relationship. I was too young, too in love, and too invested in Vincent to just walk away from him.
“I trusted you, though, Angelo. And Vincent, he could have spoken to me.” I sniffle, dabbing the napkin under my eyes.
“Well, he told me he tried. But you weren’t going to give up on him. I mean, shit. If you stuck around and people found out about you, it would have been bad. And if you left to Cali and promised not to contact him, but you waited for him, that would have been fucked-up too.” He drops a heavy fist on the table. “How could he ask you to wait and give up your life? Plus, Eve, I was angry with him for takin’ you. I felt that he took advantage. It wasn’t fair—you finally got that school and deserved time to grow. Instead, he took you as his own. Hid you. I wanted you freed from him.” He licks his dry lips and I can feel my face turn down. “Come on, doll, you were just a kid.” He fidgets with his collar.
“Angelo, what me and Vincent had wasn’t just some small little fling.” I am angry and shocked that he would ever be so dismissive. “We were in love. Real love. The soul-shattering, once-in-a-lifetime kind.”
“But Eve, you were a baby. And so was Vincent. What’s love between two kids? Losing your virginity under the stars?”
Shock moves through my insides, but he continues, backtracking to explain. “You know, that love that feels intense, but then you take time apart from each other and the dust settles and really, it was all just surface?”
I turn away and he shifts his chair, leaning closer. “I’m not saying it didn’t feel serious, but I figured you were a lovesick child. Vincent is magnetic; we all know that. He’s all brains and looks and power. I figured you’d leave and find someone else to take his spot. Someone who doesn’t have gang connections for God’s sake.”
“You’ve got gang connections, Angelo, and I still love you. Or have you forgotten?”
“Doll, you know I fuckin’ regret it every damn day. I was a kid when I got into it with the Borignones and now I’m stuck paying ‘em and helping ‘em ‘til the day I die. They ruined my goddamn life. Did I want them to ruin yours, too?”
“No, Angelo,” I exclaim. “But…” I pause. “Vincent and I may have been young. But we were real. We were honest and open and it wasn’t about where we came from or who we knew; it was more than that. I love him for who he is beneath the exterior and he felt the same—” I stop, swallowing hard. Vincent loved the old me. And he loves the new me, too.
“We read books together,” I add, my voice cracking. “We studied; he helped me in my classes. We laughed. We spent months just talking and eating and making love. We used to dance together in his kitchen because he knew how much I loved to dance. He brought me to his gym to learn MMA. He always empowered me—”
Like an avalanche, my feelings for Vincent hit me so hard, I’m practically floored by the force of it. I love Vincent. Why am I running from him? How could I even consider letting him go? He isn’t trying to take my life away from me. He wants the best for me, still. I don’t want to run anymore.
They lied, but both of them thought it was the only way. And outside of that, they’ve always been honest. I want to forgive.
I move my hair over to one shoulder, gathering myself. “Regardless, you had no right to lie, Angelo. No. Right. You played with my life.”
He drops his head for a moment. “I’m sorry for the lies.” His eyes move to mine, watering. “So many times, I wanted to apologize to you, doll. But I figured it was just water under the bridge. You became an adult and made it so far in life.” He lifts his hands, gesturing to the new me. “Fancy job and decent boyfriends and that nice apartment. You stopped asking about him,” he shrugs. “I thought you just moved on.”
“But I didn’t. I never did.” Desperation tinges my voice.
“So, you think you still love him?” he questions.
I nod my head yes.
He stands, taking his brown wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans before sitting back down again. Opening the worn-in leather, he pulls something out. “This is yours. Vincent stopped by the pawnshop and gave it to me before he went into lockup. Wanted me to hold it for you.” I put out my hand as the thin gold chain collapses into my palm. A gold crucifix shines on top of the golden pile.
“I hung onto it ‘cause it made me think of you. It’s yours again, doll, if you want it.”
My hand stays open, eyes trained on the necklace sitting in the center of my hand.
“H-he tells me he’s out of the fold,” I tell Angelo.
“Yup.” He bunches a napkin in his hand. “I don’t know all the details, of course. But I know Tom stepped up. Antonio ain’t happy about it, either. It’s all anyone talks about these days—how the prince left his throne.” He lifts a hand, pushing his hair back. “Antonio’s gotten a hell of a lot crazier, too, since Vincent left. Anyways, maybe you gotta give it another chance. No one’s a kid anymore. If you still feel it with Vincent, who am I to say otherwise?”
The waiter comes to take our order, but my stomach is rolling; there’s no way I can eat right now. “I have to go, Angelo. I need to call him.” My chest squeezes as I finally clutch the necklace in my warm palm, swinging my head toward the door. Even if I don’t know all the details of how we’ll make it work, I can’t walk away.
Angelo lifts his hand, tell
ing me to wait. “And I’m sorry. With all my heart, doll, I’m sorry I lied. All I can say is I thought it was the right thing. For you.” He opens both his hands to me, pleadingly.
“Okay. I’m going to go now though, all right?”
We stand up and hug before I hesitantly pull away. Dropping the necklace into the small zipper pocket of my purse, it now sits beside the silver boot charm that I never leave home without.
“Bye, Angelo.”
“Always love you, doll.”
I pull out my cell phone as I move to the door. I have to call Vincent—now. I need to hear his voice. He has to know I love him. I still don’t have all the answers, but I can figure those out. He’ll give me the time I need. He just needs to know I’m in this with him.
The city streets pass in a blur, tears clouding my vision as I run through the hectic blocks filled with people. Upper East Side moms push wide strollers with huge wheels. People returning from work are hustling to cross the street before the light changes. Rumpled suits wave down cabs. I forgot about the New York City hustle, and the feeling is both heart-pounding and claustrophobic. I practically trip over a kid scootering on the sidewalk in my haste to get to Janelle’s faster.
The phone rings and rings, but Vincent doesn’t pick up. Taxis honk like mad at a traffic jam ahead. One Starbucks turns into the fourth I’ve seen. Still, he hasn’t answered. Where is he?
22
VINCENT
Thirty Minutes Earlier
I drop myself at the bar while Sam Hunt blares on the speakers, taking my phone out of my pocket and leaving it on the old bar top. I’m looking forward to getting completely hammered. I don’t make a habit of it, but now that Eve basically told me she isn’t ready to commit, I feel like this is the only viable option. My phone rings, blinking red. Checking the caller ID, I see it’s Slade.
“Yo,” I answer.
Redemption (Vincent and Eve #3) Page 14