by Lauren Rowe
“Sasha! Whew. I was getting nervous.” He bounds across the room toward his cousin and hugs her. “Is Mimi watching TV upstairs?”
Sasha swallows hard. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Sit down, sweetie.”
Savage’s body stiffens. “What’s wrong?”
“Sit down.”
His chest heaves. “Just tell me, Sasha.”
“Sit down. Hello, Laila. It’s so good to see you.”
“You, too.” I hug her and take a seat on a couch next to Savage, who looks like he’s suddenly having trouble breathing.
After taking a chair across from us, Sasha says, “Adrian, Mimi hasn’t gotten out of bed in over a week.”
“What?” Savage whisper-shouts.
Sasha’s face contorts, like she’s holding back tears. “She hasn’t been doing well, Ady. Even before the move, she was in a state of rapid decline. But now that she’s here, it’s like she’s exhaling with relief. It’s like she thinks she’s reached the finish line.”
“No,” Savage says, his voice tight. “No, Sasha. That’s not why I bought Mimi the house—for her to give up! I bought it so she’d have a reason to keep going!”
“It doesn’t work that way, honey. She says she’s ready to go now.”
“No!” he shouts, this time not whispering. “No! We’ll tell her no. Have you told her no?”
Sasha smiles through tears. “Actually, I’ve been telling her yes. I’ve told her she’s free to go, whenever she wants. I’ve told her we’ll be okay and she’ll always be with us.”
“No, Sasha!” Savage pulls on his hair, his body convulsing. “Why the fuck did you tell her that shit, without asking me first? I never agreed to you telling her that! You should have consulted me!”
“She’s in pain. I don’t want her to feel pain anymore.”
“Well, neither do I, obviously! But Mimi can’t go yet.” He chokes up. Pauses. Pulls himself together. And finally says, “I still need her, Sasha. You don’t. But I do.”
I scootch over to Savage on the couch and put my arms around him and he pulls me fiercely into him, his body wracked with tremors.
Tears spill down my cheeks as I hold him.
“Why didn’t you at least tell me she hasn’t been getting out of bed?” Savage chokes out, his voice tight and pained. “You let me think everything’s been fine. You said she was tired because of the move. You didn’t say she’s ready to go!”
“I didn’t want to worry you. I knew you were coming today. So, why worry you before then?”
“Because you promised you’d tell me when it was time for me to drop everything and come! You swore to tell me that, Sasha!”
“I’m telling you now. You both have had a busy shooting schedule for the show and I didn’t want you dropping everything for nothing. I knew Mimi was determined to hang on to see you both, in person. I knew that.”
“But I would have had more time with her, Sasha! Fuck the show! I only signed on to do the goddamned show in the first place for Mimi—so she could watch me on her favorite show while lying in bed in the master bedroom of this house.” He’s shaking. Fighting tears. “Are you telling me she won’t even make it to see the first episode?”
Sasha swallows hard. “I doubt she’ll still be here by then.”
Savage makes a garbled sound that breaks my heart. His body quaking, he pulls out his phone, pushes a button, and brings the phone to his ear. His chest heaves. His Adam’s apple bobs. And then, “Nadine Collins, please. This is Adrian Savage. It’s an emergency. Thanks.” He waits. And as he does, Sasha and I look at each other, both of our cheeks wet with tears. Savage inhales sharply before saying, “Hi, Nadine. Thanks for taking my call. Listen, I’ve got a family emergency on my hands. I’m in Chicago with my sick grandma. She’s like a mother to me. The only mother I’ve ever known. And I’ve just been told her time is a whole lot shorter than I realized. Sing Your Heart Out has been her favorite show since the beginning. She’s never missed an episode. So, I’m calling to beg you, literally, beg you, to please send me the first episode, so I can sit down and watch it with her right away. I’ll sign whatever you need and promise whatever you want. But I need this favor from you, Nadine.” His chin trembles as he listens to whatever Nadine is saying on her end of the line. His shoulders soften. His chest lurches. He whispers, “Thank you. I appreciate that. Thank you. Bye.”
Savage hangs up and takes a deep breath. “She’s sending it now.”
“That’s good,” Sasha says. “Mimi will be so happy to share that with you.”
Savage opens his mouth, but whatever he was planning to say gets lodged in his throat. He hangs his head and breathes fitfully for a moment, while I rub his back and look at Sasha through tears.
“Ady, she’s at peace,” Sasha says. “She wants to see you and Laila together. She wants to hear you sing to her. She wants to kiss you and hug you. But then, she’s excited to get to see Jasper and my dad again. So, please, don’t make a tearful plea for her to stick around. This isn’t about you. It’s about her.”
Savage inhales a deep breath and raises his head. “I understand,” he says softly, resolve settling in his jawline. “I’ll make sure Mimi knows I’ll be okay.”
“Good. Thank you.” Sasha rises and extends her hand to her cousin. “Come on, sweetie. Maybe you can carry her around the house, so she can point out all the little nooks and crannies where she and Jasper fell in love.” She looks at me. “Did Adrian tell you this is where Mimi met her husband, Jasper—when Mimi’s mom worked here as a live-in housekeeper?”
“He told me a little bit,” I say. “But no details.”
Sasha says, “Mimi and Jasper were both sixteen when they fell in love here, in this house. She got pregnant with my father, so they ran off together to get married, against the wishes of Jasper’s family. In fact, Jasper’s family disowned him.”
“Oh, no. Did they ever come around and accept Mimi and their baby?”
Sasha shakes her head. “They never did. They acted like Jasper, and his family, were dead to them.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“Even after Jasper died, way too young, they didn’t help his young widow with her two young sons—my father and Adrian’s. They pretended Mimi and her two little boys didn’t even exist.”
“That’s terrible.” I look at Savage, suddenly understanding his motivation to purchase this sprawling house for Mimi, during the last weeks of her life. He wanted revenge against Jasper’s family, obviously. He wanted Mimi to get the last laugh against her cruel in-laws. He wanted Mimi to be the mistress of this grand home, if only briefly, and perhaps get to enjoy a torrent of memories, too, about the beginning days of her love story with Jasper.
“Jasper’s family tried to pay Mimi off to ditch Jasper,” Sasha says. “But when she refused, they tried to pay off Jasper to leave Mimi and deny the baby was his. Jasper was their first-born son, and, apparently, they’d had an heiress in mind for him, ever since birth. But Jasper and Mimi said they’d rather be poor, but happy together, and that’s precisely what they were.”
Savage motions to the grandeur around us. “And now, fuck ‘em all. Mimi owns their fancy fucking house. She sleeps in their fancy fucking bedroom. She’s queen of this entire fucking castle, and they can all rot in hell.”
Twenty-Four
Savage
“Mimi,” I whisper, plastering a smile on my face as I race to her bedside, past her caregiver, Stuart. How did I not realize how much my grandmother has been deteriorating during our recent phone calls? Now that I’m seeing Mimi in person, it’s clear how pale and whittled away she’s become. No wonder Sasha looked downright pained when I talked cluelessly last night about my plan to cook raviolis with Mimi in her fancy kitchen tonight. Based on the way Mimi looks right now, it’s clear I’ve been willfully blind these past few weeks. Seeing what I wanted to see.
“Ady,” Mimi breathes with an exhausted smile, as I lean down to hug her.
“Merry Christmas,�
� I whisper into her white hair. “I love you so much, Mimi.”
“I love you, too,” she whispers. “Forever and always, my sweet boy.”
When we disengage, Mimi’s dark eyes find Laila, who’s standing tentatively a few feet away, her body language suggesting she doesn’t want to intrude.
“Come,” Mimi says. “Sweet Laila. Welcome.”
Laila steps forward, swallowing hard. Somehow, she manages to squeak out a heartfelt little “Merry Christmas, Mimi,” before bending down and taking my beloved hummingbird into her warm embrace. “I’m so happy to be here,” Laila whispers. “I love you so much, Mimi. I already do.”
It’s more than my already beleaguered heart can take. I turn away and breathe deeply, determined to stuff my emotions down. But when I see the faces of Sasha and Mimi’s favorite caregiver, Stuart, reflecting my own heartbreak back to me, I lose it. With my back to Mimi, as Laila continues chatting with her, I put my hands over my face and try to regain control.
“Are you and Adrian happy?” Mimi says behind me.
“We’re so happy,” Laila replies. “We couldn’t be happier.”
Mimi exhales, like the weight of the world has been lifted from her tiny shoulders. “Ady?”
I take a deep breath and turn around. “I’m right here. And I’ve got great news for you.” I pull a second chair to Mimi’s bedside, next to the one Laila is now sitting in. “Mimi, I was able to get a copy of the first episode of Sing Your Heart Out, so we can watch it together.”
“Oh, how exciting.”
“Oh, come on, honey, tell Mimi our really good news,” Laila says, her eyebrows raised. And when I look at her blankly, she leans into my ear and whispers, “Tell her we’re engaged.”
My heart lurches. “Ooooh, yes. Of course.” I shoot Laila a grateful smile and she winks at me. And then, I take my grandmother’s hand in mine and say, “We were going to wait to tell you this on Christmas, but I think Laila’s right—we shouldn’t wait.” I smile broadly. “Laila and I are engaged, Mimi.”
Mimi gasps and her eyes prick with tears, as Sasha behind me whispers, “Oh my God.”
I continue, “I asked Laila to marry me three nights ago at our house. We were having a nice dinner and, suddenly, I realized I don’t want her to be my girlfriend. I want her to be my wife. So I asked, and she said yes.”
“Of course, I did,” Laila says, gripping my free hand. “And it was the easiest decision I’ve made in my life.”
Tears flood Mimi’s dark eyes. “Praise God,” she whispers. Her eyes drift to Laila’s hand, presumably looking for a ring, so I say, “We don’t have a ring yet. We’re going to get one when we get back home.”
“Adrian figured I’d want to help pick the ring out,” Laila explains.
“Well, that and I asked Laila, spur of the moment, without a plan. You know me, Mimi.”
The skin around Mimi’s eyes crinkles, letting me know she’s thinking, Yes, I do.
And just like that, it hits me like a ton of bricks I wish this story were real. I wish I’d asked Laila to marry me, spur of the moment, over dinner the other night. I wish I’d been smart enough to realize, back then, that I can’t live without her. That I don’t want her to be my girlfriend—I want her to be my wife.
“I did have one condition for Adrian,” Laila says. “One thing I told him he’ll need to do before we say ‘I do.’” She looks at me. “I told him, ‘You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met and I don’t want anyone else, ever. But if we’re going to have a shot at living happily ever after, without some of the traumas of our childhoods getting in our way, then I think we should both agree to go to therapy.’ I think Adrian could use some help with anger management, honestly. And I could certainly use some help dealing with a few things from my childhood, as well.”
My heart is galloping. “I had no problem saying yes to that, Mimi.” I look at Laila. “I told her, ‘No problem. I’ll do anything to make this work.’ I wanted Laila to know she can always trust me—that I’d never hurt her or do anything to push her away or scare her. I wanted her to know I screw up sometimes, yes, but I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything, ever, so I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Holy fuck,” Sasha whispers.
Laila’s flushed. She says, “When Adrian said all that, I told him, ‘Well, it’s not like I’m perfect or anything. I’ve got some major hang-ups and insecurities I haven’t dealt with very well. So, I think this idea would be good for both of us.’”
“I’m so proud of you both,” Mimi says, patting Savage’s hand. “Don’t let the past rob you of the future you both deserve.”
“We won’t, Mimi,” I say.
“Good.” Mimi looks at Laila. “I’m guessing you’ve started to figure this out, sweetheart, but, still, it’s worth mentioning. When Adrian promises something, he sometimes messes up and breaks his promise. But once he does that, if he promises again, that’s when his word becomes unbreakable. He sometimes needs to make a mistake, once, to figure himself out.”
Laila looks at me and says softly, “Yeah, I’m starting to realize that about him.”
“Don’t put up with his crap, Laila,” Mimi says quietly. “But when you can, show him patience and grace, and you’ll be greatly rewarded.” With that, Mimi’s eyelids flutter, and it’s clear she’s exhausted her energy for now.
“Sleep now,” I say, gently caressing her cheek. “When you wake up, we’ll watch the first episode of the show.” I sing softly to her—the little lullaby I always sing to her—and soon, it’s clear Mimi has already drifted off to sleep.
I address Stuart, Mimi’s caregiver. “She’s gonna wake up, right?”
“I’m sure she will,” Stuart replies.
I exhale a long breath and look at Laila and my cousin. “Do you two ladies want to go downstairs, drink some whiskey, and smoke a big, fat blunt with me? Because fuck me, I need to unwind.”
“Hell yeah,” Sasha says.
I look at Laila. “You’re not gonna rat me out to the producers for breaching the sobriety clause in my contract, are you, babysitter?”
“Dude, fiancée trumps babysitter.”
Smiling, I pull Laila to me and plant a little peck on her lips, and, to my relief, she puckers and returns my kiss. With a deep exhale, I rise along with Laila, and accept a big hug from my cousin. When Sasha releases me, I walk out of the room with her, my arm around my cousin’s shoulders, and with Laila trailing behind. As we head down the grand staircase, I tell Sasha how much I’ve missed her. I thank her for taking such good care of our grandmother and apologize for my initial reaction when I first heard the news about Mimi’s decline.
“It was a lot to process,” Sasha replies. She squeezes my trapezius muscle, the one near my neck that always tightens up the most, and says, “Ooph. You’re knotted-up like crazy.”
“This is the worst I’ve been in forever. The show is killing me.”
“Well, let me at that famous body!” Sasha says, like she always does. “And I’ll fix you right up!”
I chuckle and reply the way I always do: “Knock yourself out, Sasha.”
When we get to the base of the staircase, I turn around to say something to Laila. But she’s not there. On the contrary, she’s frozen in the middle of the staircase, looking like she’s just seen a ghost.
“Laila?” I say, my heart in my throat. “What’s wrong?”
Laila’s mouth is hanging open. Her face is pale. For a long moment, she doesn’t reply. “Sasha,” she finally whispers. “It was Sasha.”
“What?” I say.
“Sasha is a massage therapist,” she murmurs.
“Right,” I say. “I told you that.”
“I’d be happy to massage you first,” Sasha says. “Fuck Adrian. He gets enough attention, right?”
“You’ll be in good hands,” I say. “Sasha is the best.”
Laila remains frozen and pale on the staircase, not moving a muscle.
“I know it�
�s weird,” Sasha says, filling the awkward silence, “but my favorite thing in the world is working out knots.”
Laila blinks a few times in rapid succession, exhales, and slowly begins descending the steps. As she walks, I disengage from Sasha to meet her in the middle, perplexed by the expression of pure shock on her face.
“What is it?” I ask.
Rather than replying to my question, Laila takes my face in her hands, pulls me to her, and kisses me deeply. Passionately. Without holding back. Like she’s kissing her actual fiancé. The great love of her life.
I have no idea what’s prompted this reaction, especially on a day when Laila has barely spoken to me. Was it something Mimi said? Maybe that thing about me tending to fuck up once, but not twice? Or did Mimi’s frail condition remind Laila that life is short—that we’re all mortal and imperfect and flawed—and should therefore not sweat the small stuff, but, instead, grab happiness, wherever we can find it?
There’s no way to know, in this moment, what’s inspired Laila to kiss me like she forgives me. Like she loves me. And, honestly, I don’t need to know. All that matters is I’ve realized I’ve found the great love of my life, exactly as Mimi’s always wanted for me. And this kiss tells me Laila believes she’s found hers. And so, without asking why, or how long it’ll last, I take Laila, the woman I love, into my arms and kiss her in return with everything I’ve got. Everything I am. And everything I can’t wait to become, with her by my side.
Twenty-Five
Laila
Sasha blows out a plume of smoke from the joint she’s sharing with Savage and me and says, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
The three of us are chatting while smoking pot and drinking booze in Mimi’s comfortable family room. I’m sitting next to Savage on a couch, my legs draped across his lap, while Sasha is sprawled across a nearby armchair. And it’s blowing my mind to realize, the whole time I’d been certain Savage was some kind of sex addict player, his cousin was the “groupie” I saw him with that fateful day in Las Vegas. Sasha was the one walking arm-in-arm with Savage, saying she was thrilled to be there with him. Sasha was the girl who wanted to get her hands on his famous body. Because Sasha is a massage therapist. Holy hell. If I hadn’t seen Savage with his cousin that day, and hadn’t misinterpreted their conversation, where would I be right now? Would I be sitting here with Savage and his cousin, feeling swept away by my feelings for Savage? Or would our tour fling have ended when the tour did?