“Well, I don’t know what’s going on with him and Regan. But no one else here seems to think he’s missing. I talked to a source at his office, she said he sent out a company-wide email this week, saying he was back from his break and that he can’t wait to share all of the exciting ideas he had while he was away. So, it appears he was just on vacation. So, I think we can scrap that part of the—”
“I’m sorry, are you high? Who goes on vacation for months? Nobody,” she yells.
The flips my stomach has been doing intensify.
“I haven’t heard a single rumor about him being an alcoholic or on drugs. Honestly, I think there’s a real story in whatever is happening with The Rivers Family and their resurgence—”
“Kalilah. No one gives a shit about their resurgence if they don’t know the details. If you’re not up to it, come home, pack up your office, and find a job at The Huffington Post.” And then, she hangs up.
I drop my phone like it’s on fire and fall backwards on my bed. I can’t afford not to have a job. Tomorrow is pay day, but by the time the sun sets, most of it will be gone. Fear makes my throat constrict and I force myself to face the worst case scenarios.
If I don’t write the story, at the very worst, I lose my job. But I’d have at least one more paycheck and I own my place outright. Taxes aren’t due for months. I may not be able to find a job as a journalist, but I could keep food on the table while I sold my place. And with the money left over, I’d have a nice nest egg until the I could figure things out…
If do I write my report, at the very worst, Remi wouldn’t forgive me. But I’d have a job, it might even be the promising beginning of a career I’ve always dreamed of. But all of that would probably mean causing real harm to the fragile peace Remi and I have forged.
I don’t even have to think about it to know which one of those poisoned pills I’d rather swallow.
I just need to think about what comes next. I decide to go for a walk to clear my head.
CONVERSATION TWO
* * *
I leave my hotel with no particular destination in mind. So, when I find myself standing in front of To Be Read a few minutes later, I’m surprised.
I planned to never come here again. I have so many painful memories about our time here; I thought being back would send those old feelings, that I avoid like the plague, flooding back. But my feet guided me, anyway. As I stand here, the only thing flooding me is love.
I had loved it here.
It had been the best summer of my life.
I love living in New York, but this feels like home. And now that Remi and I are both be ready to give us a go, it also feels like a solution.
It’s still vacant, just as we left it.
I wonder why Lister never sold it or found someone to re-open it.
I also wonder why he never wanted to know his daughter. I can’t imagine what makes a man do that. Paul may not win any awards for father of the year, but he at least made time for Bianca.
My feet, guided by my heart, lead me through the huge grassy square that’s the heart of Rivers Wilde.
I can see Bianca running across it, flying her kite. We have a great park in our neighborhood in New York, but nothing like this.
I pass the massive arcade of food stalls called The Market that would put an international festival to shame. Bianca has always been fascinated by other people’s backgrounds. She has a more adventurous palate at nine years old than I do at thirty-one.
Oh, she would be in heaven.
This could be a real fresh start. Not one made borne out of a moment of crisis, but a decision made in a moment of clarity.
And that’s why, a few minutes later, I find myself standing at the other place I never thought I’d go. In front of David Lister’s house. It is in spite of my nerves that I find the courage to take a deep breath and ring the doorbell.
He answers the door himself and if it wasn’t for that trademark scowling smile, I wouldn’t know it was him. The words I’d rehearsed die on my tongue as my alarm at his appearance rises. He’s stooped, and pale, his cheeks nearly hollow. His pajamas, a dignified navy blue ensemble, look like they’re draped on a clothes hanger instead of a human body. His dark eyes are watery and red rimmed as he takes me in.
“You look just like your mother.”
“I do?” I’m surprised at the tenderness in his voice.
“You better come in. Standing up for too long is tiring.” He shuffles away, leaving the door open and I follow him in.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m not dressed. Just doesn’t seem like it’s worth all the effort on the days I’m not going out.” He says wearily over his shoulder.
“I don’t mind at all.” I look around the room, trying to see every picture. See if I can see glimpses of myself in him when he was younger. I see nothing but strangers faces staring back at me.
“Have a seat.” He points to the small loveseat across from his reclining chair.
I hesitate for a second, not sure that this was a good idea after all.
“Go on. You came all this way, don’t chicken out now.” His eyes twinkle with humor as he lowers himself back into his chair.
“I’m not chickening out of anything.” I sound defensive, but I don’t care. My nerves are flying around like bats in my stomach and sit I down because I’m afraid my legs might give out on me.
“You’ve got more courage than me. I’ve never been able to work up the nerve to come and see you. Even though there were so many times I wanted to.”
“You did?” I clutch the bag in my lap to my chest, I didn’t expect that.
“Of course. I owe you an apology. It’s too little, too late. But I do.”
His admission surprises me. I, of course, can list my grievances against this man in my sleep. But I’ve never imagined he would feel any remorse.
So, I ask the one question I promised I wouldn’t.
“Why didn’t you want to know who I was?”
He doesn’t even blink.
“I cared very much about your mother. I met her when I was going through a very difficult time. She was far too young, and I was far too old, you see. I could have gone to jail. I had a business, a family. I just couldn’t risk everything for a lapse in judgment.” He doesn’t even sound sorry. He’s just telling me the facts.
“So you abandoned her. And me.” My tone is biting, and he casts his eyes to his lap.
“Yes. I did,” he admits and somehow, it doesn’t hurt as much to hear it as I had imagined.
“I see.”
“You have to understand. My wife and son both died in a horrific car crash about a year before your mother came to see me about you—after you got in all that trouble. I wanted to help, so I gave her the bookstore. But I couldn’t do more than that, Kalilah. When I looked at her, all I saw was my karma. I had convinced myself I lost them because I betrayed my wife. It was irrational, but I was grieving. So, I kept my distance. But every time she’s asked me for it, I’ve helped her. But, I’ve had my own struggles.”
He sounds like he expects me to feel sorry for him. And I guess on a basic human level, I do.
I glance around the room and imagine how different my life would have been if I had grown up in this house.
I may have had a nicer roof over my head, but this man wouldn’t ever have been the father I needed. His explanation sounds more like excuses and they leave me cold.
They’re also not what I want from him.
“Mr. Lister, I came here today because I want the bookstore. And I want you to give it to me.”
CONVERSATION THREE
* * *
“Kal, this is some shit,” Kelli says, her tone thoroughly scandalized by what I’ve just told her.
“Trust me, I know. I am ankle deep in it and sinking further every day.”
“Oooh wheeee, honey. You know how to fuck up, right! You go big or go home.” She chortles.
“You’re not helping, Kelli.” I moan misera
bly. I have a low-level thrumming of panic inside of my head. I called her because she knows what’s at stake, in a way that no one else does.
“I’m sorry. Let me just make sure I’ve got this completely straight, okay?” she says soberly.
“Okay.”
“So, you didn’t know he was the story when you went to see him, right?”
“Right.”
“Now you’re lying to Jules to buy time to find an angle that doesn’t include him because she stuck her neck out for you. But also, you’re moving back to Houston to run a bookstore some dude just gave you.”
“Right.”
“So, what about this story? Is it not newsworthy?” she asks.
“Of course it is. But I can’t be the one to tell it.”
“So, you’re going to let someone else get this huge scoop on the man you love and write it instead?”
“I don’t know if anyone else will get the scoop.”
“If Jules sent you down to Houston to chase this story, then trust me, it’s a big enough scoop that you’re not the only one with it in your sights. Someone will write it. But that someone won’t be you.”
The thought unnerves me.
“Kal. Tell him about the assignment. Ask him if he’ll consider giving you the story. This could be his chance to get ahead of a story you can’t bury.”
“Yes! Oh my God, Kelli. You’re right. I mean, he’s very private, but if he could have some assurances about the story and maybe…”
“You need to tell everyone the truth,” Kelli says as if it’s that simple.
“I know,” I say.
“Then why haven’t you?” she asks.
“My life feels like it’s all balanced on a less than firm foundation. I don’t want to lose it all again.” I admit my deepest fear.
“Kal.” Her voice is gentle. “I only say this with love. You can’t begin your relationship on the back of a lie. And honestly, if you tell him, he might help you. Give you the story.”
“Oh, God. He’s going to hit the roof.”
“That’s not the end of the world. He’ll be mad, but then he’ll get over it. Don’t let your fear lead you down a path of bad decisions. You’ve got a second chance. Do it right.”
Her words make perfect sense. I know it’s the right thing to do.
“I’ll tell Remi first. If he doesn’t want me to write it, I won’t. And then I’ll call Jules and tell her what I’ve decided.”
“Kal… I’ve known you a long time. And as talented as you are and as much as I want you to succeed in this career, I am so glad you’re choosing love.”
I laugh nervously. “Well, let’s hope love chooses me back.”
“If he has any brains, he’ll never let you out of his sight again.”
“He’s already threatened that.”
“I’m glad he loves you that much. You deserve that. I know you’re afraid, but I promise, it’s not going to be as scary as you think.”
My heart swells with love for her. She’s such a good friend.
I just hope I’m making the right decisions.
THE FUCK UP
When I hang up with Kelli, I open my laptop and start writing. It’s just an outline, but I think Remi might like the direction I want to take. I’ll show this to him and explain everything. As I write, I see how, with the right angle, the seemingly sordid chronology of events, really just paints a picture of the typical American family. Sure, they have more money, but these aren’t rich people-problems. This could be a chance to lift the veil. Show the human side of a family that only ever shows the public a perfect face.
Worst-case scenario he says no. I would lose my job, and probably never work as a journalist again. But, after my conversation with Lister, I have a plan. I’ll be okay. I love Rivers Wilde. I love Remi.
I walk to the window and look out over the square. It’s got a lot more stores than it did when I lived here. There are more cars, more people, but it still looks like the idyllic slice of suburbia that I’ve never seen anywhere else.
Bianca would thrive here. It would mean amending our custody agreement, but I could make a convincing argument.
By the time I’m done writing. I’m excited.
After we get past this evening, I’ll show him and we can plan the future we’ve always dreamed of.
Chapter 37
THE TRUTH
REMI
* * *
“You have a beautiful home, Remington. Thank you for inviting us.” Gigi smiles nervously, but genuinely as they walk into the front hall of my house.
“Yes, thank you for coming back from your months long sulk just in time to host a dinner party weeks before my baby is due,” Hayes says irritably.
“I’ll try to time my life crisis better next time, Rivers.”
“This would be a good time to tell Gigi who else is here,” Hayes says, none of the lightheartedness in his companion’s tone is present in his. I’m not surprised or unprepared.
He made me promise to name my firstborn son after him before he agreed to bring Gigi today. I know that this is going to be a fucked-up day. But, there’s no hiding from it anymore.
And whatever Gigi suffers today will be tempered by seeing Lucas again.
I walk to stand in front of Gigi, her smile has gone from hesitant to nonexistent in the space of a moment.
“Who’s here, Remington?” Her voice is cool and even, but her eyes are wide with trepidation.
“My family is in the sitting room.”
She turns to look at Hayes. He turns his unsettled gaze on me.
“Remi, maybe we should rethink this.”
“Maybe you should help me keep things moving exactly as we planned,” I say in a stony, unforgiving voice. There’s no turning back.
“She’s terrified.” Hayes walks over to Gigi.
“There’s nothing to be terrified of, Gigi,” I promise her. “Tonight is going to be a difficult one, but I think you’re the person who it will be least difficult for. I know there is no love lost between you and my mother.”
“That’s an understatement if there ever was one. And it’s not just your mother. It’s your grandfather, too.”
“Yes. I know. Well, my grandfather is dead. So, it’s just her you’re going to see. Well, Regan and Tyson are here, too. They’re expecting you. My mother is not. She wouldn’t have come or stayed if she knew she had to see you,” I say with blunt honesty.
“What in the world is going on?” She raises her voice and takes one stiff, deliberate step back from me.
“Hayes is the only person I’ve fully briefed on everything.”
“What is everything?” she cries loudly, panicked. She looks to Hayes, her expression alarmed. “What is going on here? What have you been keeping from me?”
“Come to the sitting room. I’ll tell all of you together.” I don’t wait for her to agree, I just continue walking and know that Hayes will bring her along.
As soon as I open the wide, wooden double doors that lead to my formal sitting room, my mother jumps out of her seat and strides toward me. “What is going on? Who was at the door and why in the world—”
Her words die in her throat at the same time the sounds of their footsteps tell me that the Riverses are in the room now, too.
“What are they doing here? What is this?” She turns those dark, enraged onyx eyes on me and if looks could kill, I would be halfway to dead just from that first glance.
My heart pounds in my chest. A hard drumming that steadies me as adrenaline rushes in and keeps me from running out of the room. I’ve never been more afraid of anything in my life as I am of the conversation we’re about to have.
I inhale sharply through my nostrils and tell her. I’m not drawing things out tonight. Time is of the essence.
“They’re here because—”
“It doesn’t matter why they are here,” she shrieks and spins on her heel and walks back toward her seat. “I am leaving. I will not breathe the same air as
this vile woman.” She snatches up her purse and walks back toward me.
I step into her path. “You are not going anywhere,” I say sternly.
I look over my shoulder at the Riverses. Gigi’s eyes are glassy and she’s clutching Hayes’ arm like her life depends on it. I gotta hurry this up.
I look back to my mother and say sternly, “No one’s leaving until we’re all done.”
She eyes me like I’m an offending stain on her pristine white blouse. Her nostrils flare as if a malodorous wind just blew through.
“This had better be good,” she says and then stalks back to her seat.
“Will you please have a seat?” I say to the Riverses.
They walk over to the chairs I’ve set up next to my family.
Regan and Tyson watch me with wide-eyed awe.
“You guys okay?” I ask them before I get things started. Regan nods yes, Tyson just looks down at his lap. He’s taken the news terribly.
I never realized how much he missed my father, too. He was just a baby when he left. But he’s refused to see him. Until tonight. I haven’t pushed because I’ve thought it might be for the best.
My father’s been extremely cooperative. I think he’s just happy to have a clean bed and all his meals. Being here for the last week hasn’t done anything to jog his memory. Rivers Wilde was only in the early stages of development when he left. Nothing here would look familiar. Certainly not his children. We’ve already had two sessions with a psychiatrist. After all of this time without any medical care, it’s been an essential piece in trying to help him get the tools he needs to rebuild his life.
We’ve told him his real name. Told him he’s from here. Yet, I haven’t found the courage to say the words “I’m your son.” And maybe that’s because it doesn’t feel like an honest thing to say.
I’m not his son. Not really. I’m the son of the Legend of Lucas Wilde. But he’s not real.
I’ve grappled with that all week. Does that mean I’m not real either? Kal shot that question down vehemently and convincingly.
The Rivals Page 60