by Shen, L. J.
“Hold still,” the woman murmured. He hiccuped. He was drunk. The door was pushed open. Chase came tumbling in, his black dress shirt ripped open, supported by a slender woman who clutched his shoulder to keep him upright.
“Didn’t take you long to get over me,” I said, my fingers balling into a fist beside my body. Every one of my muscles shook with anger. “Again.”
He lifted his head at the exact same time the woman did. They both stared back at me.
Katie.
It was Katie.
God, I was such an idiot. Now was a good time to put the engagement ring on his table and run for my life. Still, I was rooted to his floor.
“You’re here,” he said tonelessly.
“You’re . . . drunk,” I retorted, looking at Katie with what I hoped was an apologetic expression.
She smiled, depositing Chase against the door so she could come and give me a small squeeze. “Hey. Don’t worry. It’s not awkward between us at all. My brother felt a little worse for wear after work and decided to go drinking with some friends. I dropped by the bar he was at before I went home and found him like this. Figured he’d need a good night’s sleep before the hangover kicked in.”
“Good call.” I nodded.
“I’ll leave you two to it.”
Katie left, and then it was just Chase and me. A very drunk version of him, anyway. I felt furious with the universe for bringing Chase to me like this. Barely coherent, when there were so many things I wanted to say to him in what was going to be the last time we ever spoke.
I slid the ring off my finger. It was weird. Throughout the weeks we’d been pretend-dating, I’d been careful to remove it at work, but I’d enjoyed flaunting it practically any other time. While I was on the subway and went out with friends and took Daisy for walks. I saw other people checking out the engagement ring while I held the pole on the train or flagged a taxi or flipped a page on my Kindle while waiting for a hair appointment. I could see the wheels in their heads turning. The stories they made up for this spectacular ring. I loved this part the most. The guessing part. My wedding obsession, I realized, was also about the meet-cute. The falling-in-love story. I’d wanted to sit each of them down and tell them about Chase. About how funny and gorgeous he was. About how fiercely he loved his family, how deeply he cared for his niece.
“So I thought I’d stop by and give this to you.” I handed him the ring.
He ignored my outstretched hand, blinking as he tried to focus on my face. “Keep it.”
“Chase . . .”
“Sell it. Give it away. You earned it.”
I shook my head, my heart clenching painfully. “It’s too much.”
“I won’t return it.” He staggered to the living room, collapsing on the couch and turning on the TV. ESPN was his default channel. “I can’t even look at it.”
He looked so tired that I thought arguing with him about this was less kind than keeping the ring.
“Listen.” I sat down next to him, feeling that he was drifting away from me and wanting to anchor him. “About Nina. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do, but please tell Sven to give her her job back. She needs it, and I don’t want to get into this with Sven.”
“What she needs is a lesson in manners,” he slurred, frowning at the TV boyishly. “And maybe a sugar daddy to pay for all that Prada she was parading around. I looked her up on Instagram. Is this you being Martyr Maddie again? Because I won’t stand for this kind of bullshit on your behalf.”
“We reached an understanding.” I slid the ring back onto my finger before realizing what I was doing. I ignored the warm current that ran through me as I did.
“Will it make you happy?” He swung his head toward me. The vulnerability in his expression nearly broke me. I nodded. “Fine. She can have her job back. I’ll talk to Sven.”
“Thank you.”
“But I’ll also give him some friendly advice to make you her boss. Seems fair, everything considered.”
I didn’t argue.
“How’s your dad?” I asked, stalling. Leaving him like this, drunk and bitter and hurting, was impossible.
He gave me half a shrug. Right. Stupid question.
“I just want you to know I’ll be there for you and your family, no matter what. As a friend.”
“I don’t want to be your friend.” Chase held my eyes, sobering up for a fraction of a second. “I want to be your everything. Even that’s not enough. So thanks, but no thanks.”
He is drunk, my mind screamed at me as my heart lurched for him. Plastered. Hammered. Tanked up. He doesn’t mean it.
I pulled him into an awkward couch hug, kissing his neck, inhaling his Chase smell, diluted by the alcohol he’d consumed tonight. “That’s a lot to ask.” I smiled sadly, pressing a kiss below his ear. I felt his words inside my body as he answered me.
“It’s more than I deserve.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MADDIE
November 2, 2009
Dear Maddie,
This is goodbye. I feel it in my bones. I’m so sorry I won’t be there to see you walking down the aisle. To help with your little ones should you decide to have children. I am so terribly sorry I will not be there for the breakups, and for the teenage drama, and for the small victories, and all the realizations that unfold throughout life, like thinly wrapped chocolate pieces. They all taste different, my darling Maddie. Every single lesson life teaches you is a gift, no matter the hurdles it puts in your way.
I love you, Madison. Not only because you are mine, but because you are wonderfully good, considerate, bright, and sweet. Because you are creative and your laughter reminds me of Christmas bells. Because you are all the best things about your father, and all the great things about me. You make me selfishly proud.
Before I say my final goodbye, I have another, last fun fact about flowers for you. The pretty pink pom-pom heads of the mimosa pudica look gorgeously brilliant and fuzzy, but they are actually quite sensitive. The pom-poms will fold up shyly when they are touched. They’re vibrant and blossoming—but only from afar. They are, essentially, untouchable.
Don’t shy away from the world. You will get hurt. You will hurt others, even if you don’t mean to. Pain is inevitable through life. But joy is too. So seize the day.
Love hard.
Get lots of sleep.
Eat well.
And remember our flower rule: if it doesn’t make you grow or blossom—let it go.
All my love,
Mom. x
Three days later, I took the train to Philadelphia to see my dad. I hadn’t talked to him about Chase since we’d gotten back together a few weeks ago. It had seemed redundant, seeing as we weren’t going to last. Dad and I had a routine. We met at Iris’s Golden Blooms, where I helped him sort out his bookkeeping twice a month, and in return, I got a nice Chinese meal at a corner restaurant near our house, followed by industrial Costco ice cream in front of the TV while he filled me in on our small-town gossip. Dad had a girlfriend. A sweet lady named Maggie, whom I was super grateful for, because she kept him busy and happy and gave him all the attention I couldn’t. She also understood us on another level and never once complained about the fact the flower shop he owned still held his late wife’s name.
Today wasn’t any different. I went through the motions: bookkeeping, Chinese food, ice cream from a tub you could hide a body in. Dad asked if I wanted to sleep over at their place. To his delight, I accepted. New York reminded me too much of Chase. Every street corner and skyscraper was soaked with a memory of him.
The next morning I went to the cemetery. I wasn’t big on graveyards. They were too much of a reminder one day I’d be a resident. But for Mom, I went once a year, on her birthday.
Which happened to be today.
I always brought baked goods, a balloon, and—drumroll, please—flowers. Lots and lots of flowers. This time, I arrived with lilacs and tulips and marigolds, laying them on her tombstone
after scrubbing it clean to the point of blistered knuckles. Then I sat down next to a paper plate full of muffins I’d baked at dawn, brushing the cold stone as I filled her in on Layla’s shenanigans.
“I forgot to tell you. I was also chosen to design the Dream Wedding Dress at work. After marrying half the kids on my block, I finally created my own, personal dream dress. Know the best part, Mom? Even when my boss didn’t really like the design, I stood my ground and made it happen. But the thing is, I’ve come to understand that maybe the perfect dress I’d been obsessing about is not the thing I should be most worried about. I think I just let go of my dream man. And . . . it frightens me.”
Silence stretched across the crisp morning air. Birds chirped, and everything was coated with fresh dew. I drew a deep breath, closing my eyes. “You know, Mom, I finally figured out it wasn’t my fault. I know it sounds bizarre, and maybe a little juvenile at twenty-six, but there was always a small part of me that wondered if you were taken away from me because I was a horrible person. I no longer think that way. I see Katie and Chase and Lori, how they are losing the person they love most, and I get it. Life is like a game of russian roulette. You really don’t know how it’s going to pan out for you; you’re just here for the ride. Tragedy is like winning the lottery, but in reverse. But I can’t be afraid to live anymore. To let people down. To cower. No more Martyr Maddie for me. I thought if I was good and sweet to everyone, I’d prevent another disaster. But you can’t expect to win the lottery, so why should you be constantly worried about having another tragedy turn up at your doorstep? I’m done playing it safe.”
I kissed the tombstone, giving Mom’s name one last brush.
“By the way, you would have loved Daisy. She is a hoot. I’ll bring a picture of her next time I come visit. Do you know Chase was the only man who ever entered my apartment and didn’t get the pee-in-shoe treatment? Do you think it’s a sign?”
I looked around me, actually waiting for a sign. Like in the movies. A dramatic lightning bolt slicing the sky. A flower opening unexpectedly into full bloom. Even a phone call from Chase himself would have been sufficient. Which was why the stillness of everything around me made me chuckle. Kismet didn’t happen in real life.
Just as I turned around to walk away, a groundkeeper appeared from behind a tree, holding a leaf blower and sparing me a tired smile. He wore a black uniform. The tee that stretched across his chest read in white: Black Solutions.
“Thanks, Mom.” I smiled. For me, it was enough.
Chase: Is the offer to be friends still on the table?
Maddie: You mean the one you rejected?
Chase: *While highly intoxicated and nursing a shattered ego. Yes.
Maddie: Yes. I would love to be there for you.
Chase: What are your plans for tonight?
Maddie: Watch Daisy chasing after Frank the squirrel in her quest to make love to him?
Chase: Can I join you?
Maddie: I mean, you’d have to ask them but the bar is set pretty low for Daisy if she chooses Frank for a lover.
Chase: Plus, it would be consistent with my devilish reputation to bang her roommate.
Maddie: Oh boy. I would pay good money to see your face when Daisy and Frank go at it.
Chase: You need a hobby.
Maddie: Not all of us can afford entertainment in the form of exotic ranches on lakes and mansions in the Hamptons. Us mortals have to make do with less lavish time wasters.
Chase: You mortals also have Netflix.
Maddie: I withdraw the invitation to watch Daisy and Frank recreating Gone with the Wind.
Chase: What if I come bearing food?
Maddie: Sushi?
Chase: Naturally.
Maddie: We’re on. But no lip about my movie choice when you get here. I don’t like your sass.
Chase: Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.
Chase: Thank you for taking Katie and Mom for lunch. They appreciated it.
Maddie: Technically they took me.
Chase: You paid.
Maddie: Sneakily.
Chase: You’re good at sneaking into places.
Maddie: Like where?
Chase: My heart.
Maddie: Was shopping for sex toys with Layla. What did you delete? Where’d I sneak into?
Chase: Nothing.
Maddie: CHASE.
Chase: Platonic pizza tonight?
Maddie: Not sure I’m familiar with that topping.
Chase: It’s my least favorite and includes you fully clothed. Then I’ll go home to jerk off while you make use of your new sex toy purchases.
Maddie: Platonic pizza sounds good.
Chase: My turn to choose the movie.
Maddie: I want you to know that I will never forgive you for Scarface.
Chase: I was going for Love, Actually but didn’t want my mascara to get ruined.
Maddie: You wouldn’t cry during Schindler’s List. You have no heart, remember?
Chase: Yeah, because you stole it.
Maddie: What did you delete? I took Daisy for a walk and things got a little intense with Frank. She almost caught him this time.
Chase: I said I do have a heart.
Chase: I keep it in a glass jar on my desk.
Chase: Okay that is a Stephen King quote. But the sentiment is clear.
Maddie: I demand a rematch.
Chase: A rematch?
Maddie: A movie of my choice which you should suffer through. I’m actually thinking of making it even more painful. How about Clemmy chooses it? Is she back from Wisconsin yet?
Chase: Last night, yeah. Let me call Amber and set it up.
Maddie: How are things between you and Amber?
Chase: I think she is starting to realize we are not going to happen.
Maddie: And Julian?
Chase: Julian and I are definitely not going to happen either.
Maddie:
Chase: He’s busy with the divorce. We haven’t really talked about us (idk what it is about you that inspires me to talk like a chick, but there you have it).
Maddie: I have a confession to make.
Chase: I was your best, huh? I knew it.
Maddie: I miss what we had but I’m so afraid you are going to break my heart again or dump me after this is all over.
Chase: ?
Maddie: Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Forget it.
Chase:
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHASE
“I’m seeing Clementine today.” Julian stood in the doorway to my office, still sporting the remainders of a black eye, a cut lip, and the sulky expression of a middle-aged tool who’d gotten his ass handed to him in a fistfight.
I looked up from my laptop, because we were talking about Booger Face. I pressed my index along my mouth.
“First time since?” I asked, leaning back in my executive chair. It had been a shit show since the moment Julian had found out about Wisconsin Dude. The CEO bullshit had finally taken the back seat, and the reality that his marriage—his family—was a sham had sunk in. He looked wrecked. Like reality had finally managed to snap some sense into him. Especially as Amber hadn’t wasted any time dragging Clementine to Wisconsin to hide from the social blow and had taken the opportunity to introduce the dudebro to Clementine as a “good family friend.”
Julian nodded, rubbing at his jaw. “I don’t know what to say to her.”
“How about that you’re fucking sorry?”
“Maybe without the ‘fucking’ part. Amber will kill me, and I think that’s a hundred bucks in the potty-word piggy bank.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Wait, what am I sorry about, exactly?”
“That she’s in this situation in the first place,” I said. “About the circumstances. Where are you taking her?”
“I don’t k
now. Amber just said to pick her up at five. Where should I . . . ? What does she like? Jesus Christ, I don’t even know what she likes.”
Julian fell into the chair in front of me with a sigh, not bothering to receive a formal invitation to come in. I stared at him like he’d just taken a shit on my desk. We were not exactly on friendly terms since he’d outed my father’s illness and I’d rearranged the organs in his face. We hadn’t even spoken since I’d come to rub the negative paternity test in Julian’s and Amber’s faces. (Literally. I’d shoved it into Julian’s nose and scrubbed it up and down. It would have been the highlight of my year if it hadn’t meant more bad news for Clemmy.)
“How about you take her for a burger, and Mad and I will pick her up and take her to the movies afterward?” I suggested. “It’ll soften the blow.”
Julian’s head snapped up. “You still seeing her?”
“Platonically.” I spat out the word like it was profanity. It seemed acutely unfair to get shoved into the friend zone like a pair of dirty socks after I’d given her enough orgasms to light up a refinery. I shrugged as if I didn’t care. I did care. “Her funeral.”
“Speaking of funerals.” Julian took a greedy breath, avoiding eye contact as he picked up a batch of black Post-it Notes from my desk and began thumbing them nervously. “Telling everyone about Ronan . . . that was horrendous. I apologized to him. Assured him I won’t be dipping my toe into the CEO scheme anytime soon. Just thought you should know.”
I said nothing. Understandably, I was suspicious. He threw his head back, staring at the ceiling with a sigh.
“I just wanted something of my own.”
“You had something of your own. A wife. A daughter. A good career.”
“A wife who hated me despite my trying to please her in every way. A wife whom I’d promised would become a CEO’s wife and, when it appeared that my promise was not going to get fulfilled, constantly threatened to leave me. I wanted the chief executive position because I thought it meant keeping Amber. She and Clemmy were the only things I had that you didn’t. In trying to keep them, I neglected them, spending all my time at work. And now I’m getting a divorce.” He threw his arms in the air, laughing bitterly. “Irony is a bitch.”