by Lily Kate
All I feel are the bitter dredges of a survival instinct, something telling me to go to sleep until the pain is bearable. Squeezing the pillow to my chest, I turn off my phone, and I drift off alone.
Chapter 33
TYLER
Two weeks have passed without a word from her. I’ve tried hundreds of times to get in touch with Margaret.
I tried all the obvious ways first—calling, texting, emailing. No response. I can’t imagine she’s not getting her messages, so she must just be deleting them on sight, and I can’t blame her. I shouldn’t have left when I did, but at the time, it hadn’t felt like I had a choice.
I realize how it must have looked to her in retrospect. I just never expected she’d shut me out completely. If I’d have known, I’d have waited longer, explained to her in person before acting in a rage and booking the first flight back to New York to take care of any business keeping me from Margaret.
And now, it seems, I’ve done it.
I’m back in New York, back to my life that should feel like it has everything, and yet, I have nothing. I couldn’t pull Jess out of school, so she’s staying with my parents in Harp’s Haven for a few weeks while I finish up my business here. It’s taking longer than I thought, and every day I spend here has me antsy, on edge. But if I don’t finish this now, I’ll be looking over my shoulder forever, and I can’t have that.
I came here to finish a job. So finish it I will do.
As I wait in the conference room for others to file in, I glance at my phone, debating one more attempt to the front desk of the Lilac Inn. I already know how this phone call will go, however, since I’ve had it twenty times before...and counting.
Either Emily will answer and hear the sound of my voice, then hang up immediately, or Luca will answer, hear the sound of my voice, and hang up immediately. I’ve been around this rodeo plenty.
I even sent her a letter—a personal, handwritten note, but I doubt it ever got delivered to her room. If Emily’s screening her calls, I’m sure she’s screening the mail, too. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Emily’s screening Margaret’s phone and deleting my calls and messages as they come in.
“Good morning.” A man’s voice startles me from my thoughts. “Mr. Daniels, pleasure to meet you.”
“Tyler.” I survey the young man’s bright eyes, the excitement and optimism bubbling through. “How are you, Seth?”
“Very well.” Seth sits back in his chair, a bright, ambitious young man—the same sort of man I’d been upon arriving in New York City so many years ago. “I have to say, I was surprised by your call. I thought you’d keep the company until the day they buried you.”
“You and me both,” I say with a laugh. “Are you married?”
“No, single.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Let me know when you meet someone, and I’ll explain everything to you.”
He laughs. “I don’t know, Tyler. I don’t think I could give it all up for a woman.”
“Then you haven’t met the right one,” I say, and my voice comes out suspiciously like a growl. I try to recover with a forced laugh. “Just you wait. Give me a call when it happens, and we’ll talk.”
With a hint of alarm, Seth nods. “Tell me more about the company.”
“You have everything you’ll need in front of you.” I nod toward the thick packet I’d had my people send over to Seth’s office awhile back. He’s had plenty of time to review it, and we both know it. “The company’s growing and bringing in revenue like crazy. I’m selling it to you for a bargain. We both know that. I’m not here to negotiate; I’m here to sign the papers.”
Seth leans forward. He’s a smart man, a young guy who invested in the right cryptocurrency at the tender age of twenty-one—a young man I know is in the market to buy businesses. I’m just hoping he’ll buy mine.
“Why me?” he asks.
“Excuse me?”
“You and I both know this deal is too good to be true.” Seth pushes the papers into the middle of the table, his eyes not bothering to glance at them. “Why me? You could’ve called up anyone with this offer, but you chose me, and I want to understand why.”
He’s smart, Seth. Smart enough not to argue with the price, smart enough to leave negotiation off the table. It’s merely one of the reasons why I called him first. The other reason goes deeper than that. When I came to New York, I started in maintenance. I worked my way up the ladder. Seth was my replacement for the first apartment building I serviced. He knows what it’s like to work his way up from nothing.
“Let’s just say that you remind me of someone.” I give him a wry smile. “I know you’ll take this company good places.”
“This is about that apartment complex in Brooklyn, isn’t it?”
“You did your homework,” I say, approving. “I signed off on your hire once I gave notice.”
“I saw your name on all the work logs. I just hadn’t put two and two together.” Seth gives a bright, genuine grin for the first time. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“So, do we have a deal?”
“Where do I sign? He leans forward. “Any advice for me?”
“Fletcher comes with the company. He’ll watch your back for anything related to the business.”
Seth eyes me with caution. “I sense there’s a caveat to that.”
I purse my lips. “No,” I say finally. “It’s just what I’ve said. He’s the best businessman around.”
Understanding flickers in Seth’s eyes. “I see. Business comes first.”
I pull out a pen and offer it to him. “Are we ready to sign?”
Chapter 34
MAGGIE
A few weeks have lessened the sting of Tyler’s disappearance.
The ache is still there, a burning hole in my chest that hasn’t yet scabbed over, but I know from experience that’ll take a while to heal. And when it does, it won’t disappear entirely. It’ll scab over, a pink little scar over the place where my unreturned love for Tyler is destined to live locked away safely behind my wound.
“Mom!” Mila shrieks from her room. “Mom, can you come here?”
I pull myself to my feet, setting the magazine down as my eyes flick toward Emily. “Barbie Mayday or Ken disaster?”
Emily snorts with laughter. She reaches for a cookie and flips through a second magazine as her fingernails dry. “Both?”
It feels good to laugh again, to sit around and eat cookies, flip through pictures of celebrities, and pop on a movie while I’m in my sweatpants. Emily has been good about being around a lot, keeping my mind free from the loneliness that creeps in at night. The times when I’m in my bed alone, feeling the cold other half that once had the potential to be so warm, are the worst.
That loneliness isn’t new, but it’s harsher. It’s a steel blade, battling back sleep and bringing forth memories. The memories are the worst. Tyler’s hands on me, his mouth at my ear, his words whispered so carefully it’s as if he’s next to me.
When I open the door to Mila’s room and see Jess’s wide eyes staring back at me—there are memories there, too. Sweet ones, happy ones, and there’s a pang of longing every time Mila and Jess get together to play—quite often, for which I’m glad—but something is missing still. The four of us have turned into the three musketeers. And though the three musketeers are great, there are supposed to be four pieces to this puzzle, and we’re making do with what’s left behind.
“Mom,” Mila says again, drawing my mind back to the present. “Jess’s mom was supposed to visit her for Thanksgiving, but she’s not coming.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” I say. I’m not all that sorry about Anastasia—having met her, I can’t say I’m all too impressed with her personality—but I feel for Jess. To hope for something and be let down sucks. “Are your grandma and grandpa having something?”
“A quiet meal,” she says, likely parroting back what her grandmother has told her. “They weren’t planning anything because they thought
I’d be with my mom, but—”
“Can she come to ours? Please?” Mila begs. “Pretty please? It’s awesome,” she says, turning to Jess. “We have like, three tables piled with food. The whole dining room is decorated, and we get to drink apple cider and bubbly grape juice at night. Then we light a fire and decorate the Christmas tree once the grown-ups are done eating.”
Jess’s eyes widen. “Really?”
I find myself nodding, the memories, the promise of a family gathering warming the coldness that’s been shivering along my spine these past few weeks. It’s the distraction, the moment of good cheer that I need. To remind me I’m lucky—I have so much when others have so little. Before I know it, I’m joining Mila with the promises of a wonderful holiday.
“If you’re interested,” I tell Jess, “I can talk to your grandparents and invite them. I know Mila would like someone to play with—it’s boring if she’s stuck around adults all day. Plus, we invite the guests of the inn, so it’s like a big party. It’s warm, and we roast marshmallows over the fire. We have every kind of dessert you can imagine, and...” I stop, feeling embarrassed. “Of course, if you’d prefer to keep it just your family, I’d understand.”
She shakes her head. “Maybe you can talk to them?”
“Of course,” I tell her, backing out of the bedroom as the girls continue to play. “I’ll call them right now. We’d love to have you.”
As I return to the living room, I’m left with the nagging thought that Tyler would love the party. He’d love the laughs, the cozy evening as we flick on Christmas music and set to decorating the tree. The past three years, we’ve gotten lucky with the first snowfall landing sometime post turkey dinner and pre-Christmas tree decoration.
He’d love the finished product—the moment when we shut off all the lights except the tree and sit together as a little family, admiring the twinkle and glow while Bing Crosby croons in the background.
We’d put the girls to bed after that, and we’d share a glass of wine, I imagine.
We’d retire to our own bed where we’d make love until the moon rises high in the sky, and we’re both breathless with exhaustion.
Then, we’d fall asleep in one another’s arms and rest, peaceful, until the morning sun returns.
That’s what would happen...if Tyler loved me.
But, he doesn’t, I think, shaking off the daydream.
Though I’m lucky in many things, love isn’t one of them.
This Christmas, I’ll be spending another holiday climbing into bed at night, alone.
Chapter 35
TYLER
“It’s done.”
Anastasia’s eyes crinkle as she opens the door. “What’s done?”
“I’ve got the fund set up.”
“What fund?”
“You gave me a number,” I say to her, “and I met it. Now, I’d like you to sign this for me.”
Anastasia glances down at a simple document I had my lawyer draw up for me. Essentially, it lays out a custody arrangement that allows me to move Jess to Maine full time. The part that’s not listed on there is the money—but we both know I’m good for that. I have plenty of money. What I need is freedom.
“It’s like we discussed. You can arrange to visit Jess when you’d like; I won’t keep you from her. But you will sign over your parental rights completely.” I struggle to keep my voice even. “In return, I’ve set up a bank account with a million dollars. It’ll pay out an even sum every month until Jess turns eighteen. Child support,” I manage to spit out.
Her chin tilts upward. “How do I know—”
“I’ve met your terms, now you meet mine,” I tell Anastasia. “Otherwise, you won’t see another dime from me until this is finished.”
Anastasia’s eyes darken. “This is still about her, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is.”
There’s a moment of surprise when something flashes through Anastasia’s eyes, though it isn’t hurt. It’s annoyance, as if she’s lost a game I hadn’t known we’d been playing. “You never loved me like you loved her.”
“No,” I find myself admitting. “I didn’t. And you didn’t love me, either.”
She doesn’t dare argue with me because we both know it’s true. I would have married her for Jess, but never out of love. The only woman I’ve ever truly loved is Margaret.
With an exhale, Anastasia grasps the pen and signs on the line. “I still think you’re making a mistake. You gave up your company, the city...for what?”
I gape at her for a moment, but my expression fades as I realize a few years back, I had the same thought. The same mentality. For a moment, I feel pity. “For everything,” I finally answer. In a sudden burst of inspiration, I add, “thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making everything crystal clear.” I snap the pen against my palm, bouncing awkwardly on my toes in anticipation of my next move. With a last wave of gratefulness, I lean forward and brush a kiss against Anastasia’s cheek. “I hope you understand someday.”
She frowns, looking at me like I’ve escaped the looney bin. “When do the checks start coming?”
My heart cracks somewhat, and I’m surprised at my reaction. Maybe it’s true that some people will never understand.
“The first of every month,” I tell her. “There won’t be a problem.”
“Great.”
“Should I tell Jess to expect you for Thanksgiving?”
“Oh, shit,” she says, her nose wrinkling. “I’m going to Paris. Can you cancel for me?”
It’s the last straw. I turn, my shoulders heavy with all that she will miss in her daughter’s life, and I wonder if she’ll regret it later. When she’s old, and her beauty has left her and her travel days are behind her.
“Goodbye, Anastasia.”
Chapter 36
MAGGIE
Thanksgiving
“Deck the halls with bells of holly,” Mila sings at the top of her lungs. “Fa-la-la-la-la—”
“Boughs,” I correct, wincing as the shrill shrieking comes to a halt. “Deck the halls with boughs of holly.”
“Really?” Mila’s nose wrinkles. “I think it sounds better the way I sing it.”
Continuing on her merry little way, Mila grabs a small bag of tinsel from the storeroom where we keep our off-season decorations and carries them to the lounge. We’ve got a freshly cut evergreen set up in there, just waiting for eager hands to rest bells on its branches and stockings by the fire.
The weather has cooperated, whipping up a chilly day outside, the threat of snow imminent. I pause at the front door, leaning outside to sniff. “Smells like snow,” I say, grinning as I turn back to find Emily balancing a tray of burnt orange goblets on one hand. “Need some help?”
“Nah, just cracking open the bubbly a little early. Jax is putting the final touches on the turkey, so we should be good to eat in just a few minutes.”
“Mila,” I call to her. “Wash up! Almost time for dinner!”
“But Jess isn’t here yet.” She appears in the doorway, a frown turning her lips upside down. “At school, she told me she was still planning to come.”
I shrug, not allowing myself to think of Tyler. Today is a holiday—a pity-party free day for me. “Maybe her plans changed and her mother came to town.”
“Her mom is dumb,” Mila says. “She never comes to town. Why does she have to come now?”
“Mila,” I say sharply. “We don’t say things like that. Ever.”
“Sorry,” she says, twisting her hands meekly before her body. “I didn’t mean she’s dumb, I just meant that it’s not fair. Anastasia never wants to see Jess. Today, I want to see Jess.”
“We can’t be selfish,” I say, kneeling in front of her. “Thanksgiving is about being grateful for what we have. Just think—you get to see Jess almost every day. Sometimes, you get to see her a few times a day. Now, if her mother wants to spend the holiday with her, don’t you think it’s fair she gets to d
o that?”
“I guess.”
“Do you think you could try to be happy for Jess if that’s what happened?” I ask. “She’s probably very excited to see her mom.”
Mila shrugs. “Probably more excited to see her dad. He should be coming back soon, too.”
My blood freezes and, despite my promise to myself, I wonder aloud. “What do you mean by that?”
“He went back to New York to do some business things. That’s what Jess says. He’s coming back here, though, to live. That’s why she’s not too sad.”
“To live...”
“To live forever. Which is why I’m not sad either, and I guess Jess can spend today with her mom—since we’ll be friends forever.” Mila contemplates this in her six-year-old mind. “Forever is a long time. Thanksgiving is one day. Maybe we can have her over and show her the tree tomorrow.”
“Sure, sure,” I say, standing, not hearing a word she said.
Tyler’s coming back here to live? Forever?
I press a hand to my chest as my breathing speeds up. His calls have dwindled somewhat, but they haven’t stopped. Every night at nine thirty he still calls and leaves a message. I’ve never listened to one of them—I can’t bring myself to hit the Play button, despite knowing I’m being ruthless and stubborn. It would hurt too much. I needed a clean break.
I wonder if Mila’s misheard something, or if maybe his plan is still temporary—stay for a while, until Jessica finishes the semester. It’s tough to switch mid-school year, I reason. Surely that’s what’s happening.
Mila’s buzzing to wash her hands while Jax is shouting for all the inn to hear that the food is ready.
“Come get it while it’s hot,” he yells. “I’m carving the turkey in four minutes, and if you’re not sitting down by then...”
“Maggie?” Emily’s voice is soft. “Are you coming?”
She finds me standing at the front door, the threat of snow dancing around us as the wind bites at my nose and licks at my cheek. Somehow, the frigid chill is fitting, and I welcome the painful gusts.