For a few moments, nobody speaks. Then Eliza breaks the awkward silence.
“Blake told me what happened,” she says.
“I’m guessing he would have had to. Given that he needed some way of explaining his missing fiancée. So it was either the truth, or tell you that he murdered me,” I retort. I no longer have a reason to be nice to this woman.
“Contrary to what you may think, I do have a sense of respect for you. That’s one of the reasons why I thought you were good enough for Blake. And I saw the way you and Tyler looked at each other at that ball. I’ve never seen my youngest son so taken by anyone. And I’m not here to plead his case,” she rebuts. “Just to give you this.” She hands me a slip of paper with a phone number. “It’s Tyler’s new number. His father gave it to me. I am sorry for what happened with you and Blake. The day he left, Tyler came to see me. I’ve never seen him so passionate about anything in his life, until he spoke about you. Contrary to what he believes about me, I do want him to be happy.”
“And Blake?” I ask. “Why did you insist that Blake leave that other girl? You knew he was seeing her, didn’t you? Yet you still pushed him into marrying me. Why?”
She lets out a pained sigh. “I thought I was helping him, giving him focus. Blake was never very good at making life decisions. I thought he needed my guidance. And whatever you believe, you have been the best influence on his life to date.”
“So that was how you showed maternal love, by manipulating and controlling his life?” I spit angrily. “And using me as a pawn.”
“You are entitled to your own perception, but you and I both know that Blake did love you.”
“No, Blake only loves himself, a side effect of his mother telling him he had the right to be God. You turned him into a narcissist.”
Eliza eyes me with contempt. This conversation is horribly nauseating. Bile rises thickly in my throat. I suppress the urge to gag. Eliza bids me farewell and its moments later that the sickening conversation has me with my head over a toilet bowl.
Weeks drift by. Slowly, the letters, cards, flowers and gifts from Blake taper off, when it becomes apparent to him that he won’t be receiving a positive reply. He didn’t ever even knock on my door once, just tried to buy me from a distance. The unwanted items start arriving every second day, then every third. By six weeks later, I receive only one gift and one huge bouquet of flowers. But strangely, I also receive a second bunch that week. This bunch is very different from the huge ornate rose and lily bouquets that Blake has been sending. This one has African proteas, deep red carnations, brilliant white baby’s breath, and kale flowers. It’s exotic, yet simply arranged, tied together by only a piece of olive green rattan string. I don’t throw those into the dumpster. Those I place in a vase on the coffee table.
Mac has thankfully agreed to let me lease out the spare bedroom on a permanent basis. It saves me from having to return to Cuba with my tail between my legs as the girl who didn’t make it in the big city. Or worse, rent a bedroom in a crack house or whorehouse, which is all I can really afford in this part of town at the moment.
Each day, something reminds me of Tyler. Whether it’s the smell of a hot dog, the play we sat in on, or the times where I go to Brooklyn Bridge Park to leave the world behind and daydream about him.
One day, walking aimlessly through the city, as I find myself often doing these days, I walk past the old, dilapidated theater. The signage above the building has been replaced with a new one. I notice the graffiti on the door and outer walls has been removed, and the glass in the gilded doors replaced.
The new marquee boasts the name of the theatre’s latest production. Romeo and Juliet: A Modern Day Love Story. Squinting, I try to make out the smaller print beneath. The writing is ornate. I can just barely see the words. TE Amo. I’ve seen that exact same font, those words, somewhere else. I just can’t think where. My brain has been like a sieve these past few weeks.
Occasionally I run into Eliza, and sometimes she calls me to check in, in a very bizarre twist of events. Every time we speak, I ask her if she has heard from Tyler. And every time, she says no. I ask Jackson as well when I see him. Same answer. The number that Eliza gave me all those months ago is still tucked safely away in my drawer. Still yet to be dialed. It’s a stupid notion, I know. To have the number, to want to be with Tyler so badly, and yet to never pick up the phone. The stubborn side of me doesn’t want to dial it. The stubborn part of me wants him to come back for me of his own volition, not because I asked him to. I have seen Blake once, which was necessary. He looked miserable and lost. That made me both happy and sad at the same time. The feelings I had once felt for him never returned when I saw him. But the memories of Tyler and I, the memories are the things that truly bring me to my knees.
Chapter 23:
Blake
What happened to my fucking life? It all got so fucked up so fast. Now, sitting in the empty studio that once belonged to Aria, there is no place for me to be. True to her word, Aria packed her shit and left. And I arrived a day too late to go with her. I guess the last time we spoke solidified in her mind that our relationship was over.
Emily ignored my calls for weeks after she left me. I can only assume that she threw every gift I sent her away. Tyler, the fucker, has stayed gone. To be honest, I feel so fucking broken that I don’t even have the desire to fight him anymore.
And my mother, now there was the shock factor. The woman who I had spent my whole life trying to please, the very woman who’s family name I was trying to protect by living a lie. Even she wants nothing to do with me now. It may have something to do with the way I spoke to her about Emily last week when she called me. And probably even more to do with the way I spoke to Emily. But what fucking right does she have to choose Emily over her own son?
So here I am, drinking wine that comes in a box, because that’s all I can currently afford. Chayse hates me. I called the hospital and asked for my job back, but of course Jules, being the bitch that she is, said no. I can’t set foot in my apartment anymore, although when this box of wine finishes, it’s probably going to be necessary. I’ll need to find some shit to sell.
But how do I even show my face in my neighborhood again? Face the people that I once golfed with as a humiliated man? I’m probably just a joke to them now.
Emily. Her name floats through my subconscious often, reminding me of what I had. And lost. Now though, now that I know the true depths of her and my brother’s relationship, I don’t want her anymore. She’s tainted, spoiled. Used. Still, that girl had loved me unconditionally. No, cancel that. She had loved her perception of me. The one that I presented to the outside world. Never the real me. She never knew him.
Aria. I needed to find Aria. I think back to what she liked, the places she would go if she left here. She has family in Phoenix. I jump to my feet, excited for the first time in weeks about something. But how do I get there? I grab the keys to the BMW and race out of the empty space. First goal: get some cash. Second goal: find Aria. And I’m not stopping until I do.
Thankfully the BMW still has gas, and I floor her all the way to Providence. I just need enough money to get to Phoenix. Money, hope, and love. I’m going to find her, and fuck everyone else. I’ll scour every corner of the world if I have to.
Chapter 24:
Tyler
The beaches in Rio were beautiful. The canals in Venice, simply breathtaking. The peaks of the Andes, an awe-inspiring sight. For months I have immersed myself in my work. I’ve been surrounded by beauty; gorgeous women, exotic countries. But for months, I have also been utterly miserable. Trying to fill the days by any means necessary. I haven’t been able to bring myself to even speak to another woman. Emily’s face haunts my every dream. So much so that I haven’t even called my father, for fear of hearing that her and Blake are married now. Though, I do wonder if Blake has changed. If he was better, for her sake. Then again, for someone as amazing as Emily, why wouldn’t he?
My mother has attempted to call
me a few times. I recognize the number. I don’t answer her calls, and I delete every voicemail message without listening to them first. I don’t want to hear her gloat about how her precious son got the girl.
Sitting in Hokkaido, Japan, in a park, alone on a bench, I stare up in awe at the rows and rows of blooming cherry blossoms. One week. That’s all they have. One week of majestic bloom. It’s the end for the trees in Hokkaido. The petals float in the hundreds from the tree branches to the ground. Fleeting beauty, absolute ethereal love, kind of like what Emily was to me.
My first thought at every destination was, Emily would love this. I have one more job scheduled in Morocco, before I have a few weeks off. I have contemplated going back to New York so many times. It’s been a year since I last saw her. Our last conversation eats at me. How we ended things before I left. The memory of the day we spent in my apartment is the only comfort I have now.
I’ve been so unfocused recently that I had to hire a PA just to keep my calendar in order. I was quickly earning a reputation as a flaky photographer. It’s been so long. Too long. Grabbing my cell phone, I dial my father’s number. He answers after two rings.
“Tyler?” he asks happily. I can hear his wide grin all the way from Japan.
“How are you? Where are you?”
“Japan,” I reply. “I’m wrapping up here in a few days, though.”
“Really? Where to next?”
“I could travel for a while longer. But I could also come home.”
“You could. Listen Tyler, a lot has happened since you left.”
“Like what?” I ask, equal parts hopeful and terrified.
“Just a lot. Your mother has sworn me to secrecy about everything. Ordinarily I wouldn’t pay her any mind, but this time, I think I have to.”
“Dad,” I say, getting impatient.
“Look, I think you should come home. See for yourself.”
“You may have already been told about what happened. I don’t really want to come home to see what I think I’ll see in the aftermath.”
“You may be surprised,” my father replies cryptically. “Listen, I have to go, it’s my tee time. Don’t let it be another twelve months before you call again.”
“Sure. Bye.”
I ponder over my father’s words for a few hours, staring at the falling cherry blossoms, before I dial Mary, my PA, and tell her to cancel the job in Morocco and book us flights back to New York. I hang up from the call both thrilled and filled with dread at what I’ll see when I get home.
Needless to say, I knocked back a few whiskey shots on the plane ride. The trip seemed eternal. But with every mile we flew at this ridiculous altitude, the tighter the knot in my stomach became. There was a reason why I preferred to run away from my life at home. By the time we arrived, my palms were sweaty. My shirt underneath my leather jacket soaked. So much for the easy going Tyler.
Mary has booked a town car to take me to my apartment and her to her hotel. I decide to give her a few weeks off to see her family in Texas. She gratefully accepts, and books the flight for the next day. Many a male photo editor has commented to me about how attractive Mary is. It doesn’t matter much to me, though. She isn’t Emily.
Arriving at my apartment feels good. I feel grounded again. Realizing that it would be better to face my demons than have them creep up on me, I dump my bags and immediately walk back out the door. Standing in front of Blake’s apartment, it takes me a good five minutes of just standing before I knock.
I presume, being the middle of the week, that Blake is at work. I hope so, anyway. A few seconds later, an elegant middle-aged woman opens the door and smiles politely and expectantly at me.
“I’m looking for Emily,” I say, confused.
“I think you have the wrong apartment,” she says curtly.
“No, it’s the right one. Doesn’t Blake Carson live here?”
“He may have before. We’ve owned this place for just over three months now. Before us, I believe it was vacant for some time,” she replies before smiling and closing the door.
What the fuck is going on? I know my father’s been sworn to secrecy. My mother, well, her I won’t even bother calling. Who else would know where she is? Then it dawns on me. Jackson. I flick through my contacts, praying that I still have his number, and practically jump for joy when I find it.
Jackson picks up after three rings.
“Hello,” he answers cheerfully.
“Jackson, it’s Tyler,” I reply.
“Hey man! Where are you? Are you back in town?”
“I just arrived. Hey, listen dude, do you know where Blake and Emily moved to?” To this day, I still hate referring to them as a couple.
“Blake and Emily? As in, together? Dude, what fucking destitute country have you been in that you haven’t heard?” Jackson’s voice rises in disbelief.
“Heard what?”
“There is no more Blake and Emily. Not since the day you left.”
“What happened? Wait, I don’t care. You mean Emily hasn’t been with my brother for the last year?”
“You really have been someplace with no cell service, haven’t you?”
“Where is she?” I ask, my heart pounding.
“Dude, Maia will hang me by my balls for telling you. She’s pretty pissed at you.”
“Jackson, please,” I practically beg.
Jackson sighs. “Only because I know how into her you are. But you did not hear this from me! She’s at the beauty salon. She stays in the apartment above it. But Tyler, you should know—”
“Thanks man, we’ll talk soon!” I hang up the phone and push the elevator button about a million times in the next few seconds, anxious to get back to the street. To get back to Emily. And find out just what the fuck is going on. I feel like such an idiot for leaving her and staying disconnected for so long.
Thankfully, Mary and the town car are still downstairs. I shove in next to her and give the driver the address, promising she can have the car back as soon as he drops me off. Mary offers to wait, in case I need a ride back. I tell her it’s not necessary before slamming the door shut.
Janie glares at me as I open the beauty salon door. “Is Emily here?” I ask.
“Why? Don’t think we don’t know what you did to her,” she rebuts angrily.
I don’t wait for a response. I walk around the side of the building and find the staircase. Reaching the top, I raise my hand to knock. It stops midair. A whole year has gone by. I really didn’t think this through. Then again, since I spoke to Jackson, I haven’t really thought at all. What if she’s in there with someone else? Enough running Tyler, time to man up. I raise my closed fist to the door, and knock.
Chapter 25:
Emily
“Emily!” Mac yells from behind my closed door. “Try to keep it down!”
“Sorry, Mac,” I say over the loud cries. Oh, how I miss sleep. What I wouldn’t give to have just one night of uninterrupted slumber. But that is no longer possible. I turn in my bed, leaning towards the recently acquired most important person in my life.
The bassinet’s netting billows softly with the spring breeze blowing in from the open window. The moonlight casts a beautiful glow over her porcelain skin.
“Oh Sadie,” I breathe, picking the small bundle up into my arms. Her cries immediately stop. She clutches with fervor for my breast. I run my hand over her dark hair, staring into her clear and sparkling brown and green-flecked eyes. Who knew that I’d be sitting here, staring at the only Carson grandchild, as a single mother, living with my gay best friend, and making minimum wage as a beautician? It’s not an easy life, but it’s mine, and mine alone.
And yet, who knew that I’d also be so happy? I’ve seen Blake once since Sadie’s birth. And once was enough. Help had come from the most unlikely source. Eliza Carson was supportive through every step of my pregnancy, and that had absolutely floored me. I wanted to hate her for everything that had happened between us in the past, but after a
while, the hatred became exhausting. And she truly had embraced the role of grandmother beautifully. I think this was a second chance for her. And she was grateful that I had allowed her that.
Maia and Jackson also barely ever left my side. Jackson behaved, when I was pregnant, as if I was made of some ungodly expensive crystal, not even allowing me to pick up so much as a toothpick unassisted. Maia would laugh and tease, “God help me when I’m pregnant!’
Tyler has been mentioned in passing, but most of the people close to me have seen the pained look that crosses my face at the mere sound of his name, so they’ve stopped saying it.
But looking at Sadie, watching her curl her long fingers around mine, I am finally happy. Once she settles down, I close my eyes. Welcoming the sleep that comes instantly. Tyler’s face still meets me in all my dreams. But that’s where I keep him, all to myself, where he’s not the person who left me. He’s just Tyler.
Mac takes care of Sadie on Thursdays and Fridays while I work at the beauty salon. At first I was apprehensive to leave her. She’s all I have in this world. But when I saw the love he had for her, how wonderful he was at taking care of her, and once he stopped dry heaving when changing her diaper, I felt more comfortable. Eliza insists that I don’t work, but I insist that I do. She has set up a trust for Sadie, for which I am thankful. I agreed because the conditions of our deal were clear. She’s welcome in Sadie’s life, on my terms only. And my only term was that she doesn’t mention me, or any of this, to Tyler. She had agreed. It’s a stupid rationale, but I wanted him to come back because he wanted to be with me, not have his hand forced by circumstance.
The next morning, as I’m racing around to prepare Sadie’s bottles and trying to pull on my jeans for work, I hear a knock at the door. Fuck! Nothing fits the way it used to. I curse as I shimmy into the tight pants, pull a tank over my head, and walk over to the door.
Scared of Forever (Scared #2) Page 15