When I Let You Go (Let Me Book 6)

by Lily Foster

  That’s what I hoped, anyway.

  Veronica Petrov.

  It took some effort just to track down her last name, which is saying a lot, given that I assigned the task to my man Rupert. And once I had the name, I didn’t have much else. No social media accounts—not one. Veronica was the antithesis of everything society attributes to Millennials. No publicly posted selfies, no blogs recording her every night out or her feelings on inane subjects. And she certainly wasn’t entitled or lazy, given that she was known to work three jobs at once.

  I was starved for the woman, for any information I could get. All Rupert came up with was that her credit card was used once in the past month, at a craft store in Westchester County. In a way, her anonymity was something I envied. If you wanted to get the latest on me, all you had to do was type my name into a search engine and at least ten very recent posts with pictures would pop up. Veronica was off the grid and I wanted to exist there—with her.

  “How are you doing?”

  “What are you asking me, Melanie?”

  She laughed, taking me in. “I’m asking you how you’re doing,” she repeated. When I didn’t answer, she said, “Like are you lonely? I mean, you’ve hardly left the city this entire summer…Should I alert our friends that you’re on suicide watch or something?”

  Handing her a vodka rocks, I answered, “Yep, let Samantha Paulson know that I need a shoulder to cry on.”

  Melanie threw her head back, shaking it from side to side as she smiled wide. “That traitorous bitch would cream herself and drop your weepy ex-wife in a heartbeat.”

  “How is Cecilia?”

  “Managing, I guess. But you and I both know she’s only ever wanted you. Her world’s been rocked off its axis.”

  “Is she seeing anyone?”

  She raised a brow and frowned. “Are you looking to reconnect?”

  “No,” I said without a nanosecond’s hesitation. “But you wouldn’t be happy about that?”

  “My feelings are irrelevant here, Dylan. I just don’t think you were ever truly happy with her. I love the girl like a sister but her happiness shouldn’t cost you your own. Know what I mean?”

  “We won’t be getting back together.” I knew that as fact.

  “Are you still seeing that skinny bitch from California?” I smiled, shaking my head. “Nice try, by the way.” In answer to my confused look, she said, “Blonde hair, tall, killer body.”

  “Think I was going for a Kasia look alike? I wasn’t.”

  “No one would blame you.” She stood and went over to the office window, looking down on the peons below. “Her funeral was really sad. That crap usually doesn’t faze me.”

  “You were there?”

  She nodded. “I saw you but I left you alone. I figured listening to me talk about how fuckable her brothers are would grate on your nerves.”

  Melanie was as genuine as they came. I smiled, grateful to her, grateful to have someone who knew me so well and who was honest with me to a fault.

  “You’re no longer appreciating the ladies, Mel?”

  “I’ve always preferred dick, you know that,” she said, shooting me an annoyed look. She turned and sank back into her chair then, a dreamy look on her face. “But yes, every single member of that family is delectable. What a gene pool.”

  “What are you doing in town? Isn’t everyone we know in the Vineyard?”

  “Yes, but I kind of hate them all, including my husband. He’s on a mission to get me with child and I…I—”

  “Don’t want kids?”

  “No, I can’t say that with conviction.” She was about to go on but shook her head. “Forget it, it’s dumb.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I miss Christian.”

  Christian was Mel’s college boyfriend and was still a close friend of mine. Now I got to see him no more than twice a year, those rare times when I was out west and not bogged down with work. Melanie never asked about those trips though, so I was surprised.

  “I know it’s ridiculous to waste my time thinking about him, and I haven’t been. It’s just lately…I keep hoping to run into him.”

  We both knew the man now lived in San Diego, happily married to a very beautiful and very sweet-natured girl. Cora and Christian had three boys, all athletes—confident little shits, like their dad. From my vantage point, Christian looked like he was living the dream.

  Melanie took in my doubtful look. “I know I won’t run into him, stupid. It’s just that lately I’ve been feeling unsettled and it’s horrible. My husband is a good person. He tolerates me with a freaking smile on his face. But I regret what I did because I know I threw away my chance at happiness. Christian was it for me.”

  “So having a child with Jonathan—”

  “Closes the door on that chapter of my life. And that’s fine. I mean, I know Christian isn’t even thinking about me…From what I hear, he’s deliriously happy.” I didn’t answer because she didn’t need me confirming the fact and pouring salt in her paper cut. She drained her glass and looked down as she spun the ice cubes in the crystal tumbler. “Who needs him anyway? Kind of a baby, don’t you think?” She looked up at me smiling. “It’s not like I fucked his father.”

  “Yeah,” I deadpanned, “he totally overreacted.”

  “And his stepfather was hot. I kind of blame Christian for the whole thing.”

  I nodded and stood up. “Absolutely.” I had a conference call scheduled in ten minutes, so I had to cut this short. “Can we grab dinner one night next week?”

  “No can do. I have to head up to the Vineyard sometime in the next few days. Jonathan’s parents are going to start bitching and putting ideas in his head if I stay here. I don’t think his mother likes me,” Mel said as she saluted her mother in law with her middle finger.

  “We’ll set something up next month.”

  Walking towards the door, she turned back to me and said, “I’ll see you at Margot’s event, right?”

  I’d forgotten. My mother was back living on the Upper East Side but a lot of things in her life had changed. She was now volunteering her time teaching yoga at a youth center in Chelsea and this event she was hosting was a pared down version of the lavish fundraisers she used to organize. She’d developed a bond with a group of teenage girls who attended the center, and according to Anna, she had a religious following at her Tuesday and Thursday afternoon classes. Some of the girls’ mothers had even started crashing the youth center, coming to Mom’s class. Mom told me they would sit after class and talk about goals, obstacles they faced in the form of race or class or gender, empowering yourself as a woman, and just life in general. It energized my mother, gave her a renewed sense of purpose.

  “Your mother told me this is the first real fundraiser she’s ever thrown. And it’s true, isn’t it? All of those galas where people like us used to get drunk and high and hook up, then we’d cut a fat check to orphans starving in Timbuktu?” Melanie smiled, adding, “This is the first time I’ll actually be contributing directly to improve someone’s life. Margot is inspiring me to be a better person.”

  “Thinking of volunteering at the youth center with her?”

  “I don’t think she’d let me through the door. I’d corrupt those little bitches.”

  I laughed to myself, imagining Melanie imparting her version of female empowerment to the next generation. That had disaster written all over it. Speaking of disasters, I had to attend this event to support my mother, but it would mean running into my ex and her parents. Great. “I hope the venue is big enough for me to avoid the Tates.”

  “I honestly don’t even know if they’re invited.”

  “Say what?”

  “Yeah,” Melanie said, shrugging her shoulders, “your mother and Bunny aren’t overtly at war or anything, but they’re no longer besties.”

  “That sucks.”

  “It was inevitable. I think your mom was developing an ulcer leading up to those monthly lunch dates. Cecilia and Bunny were
obviously plotting when they still thought there was a chance she could win you back. Your mom dragged me to a few of those lunches just to have a buffer and they were painful. Cecilia would inevitably wind up dabbing at her eyes, acting like she was holding back tears…Fucking nauseating. Then your mom got wind that Bunny was making your father’s affair public knowledge.”

  “Really?” That surprised me. It’s not like my mother kept it a secret, she did tell her closest friends about their split at the time, but it wasn’t in the tabloids or anything. And Bunny was a good person, like a sister to my mom. That kind of betrayal would have felt like a knife in the back.

  “Yes, really. My mother shut Bunny down one day when she heard her laughing with a few other women, totally at your mother’s expense, describing in detail how your mother found out about your dad and his,” she added air quotes, “Pippa Middleton look-alike.”

  Ouch. “I never thought Bunny was that low. I’m kind of shocked.”

  “I’m not. Bunny doesn’t know her place in the world anymore. Her only daughter is divorced. That’s like…I don’t know, death to people in our parents’ circle. And on top of that, her best friend is changing, evolving. I mean, my mother tolerates Margot’s new age nonsense, and they’re still tight, but even she’s dropped a few comments about the new wardrobe, new interests. She stayed with your mother out in Sag Harbor for a few days last year and was a little horrified. She described your mother’s yoga friends as homeless vagabonds.” We both laughed at that one. I could totally imagine Melanie’s mother, cross eyed and appalled, breaking naan with that rag-tag group. Melanie mimicked the closing yoga pose, palms together over the heart. “But I’m digging the new Margot.”

  “So is my father, thank the Lord.”

  “That burns Bunny’s toast too. Here she is, making sport of your parents’ marriage issues, while it’s plain to see that whatever’s gone down between them has made them stronger. I think a lot of those ladies are jealous…They’re too scared to throw their cheating husbands to the curb like your mother did. Margot didn’t cave in, she wasn’t afraid…She dropped his ass! And he crawled back!”

  I was back in time, back to the night I crawled to her with my tail between my legs. Not above begging when I realized I was in danger of losing the one person who meant everything to me.

  I didn’t get a second chance.

  My father was lucky.

  Melanie walked back over and planted a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you.”

  “How was Tom and Darcy’s party?” Mom asked as she poured me a glass of wine.

  “The Labor Day bash was good…A little heavy on the munchkins, but good.”

  My dad turned and looked up, smiling at my mother affectionately as she poured him a glass. “One day your munchkin will be running around on that beach and you’ll feel like the luckiest man on the planet.”

  There were times when I had to rein in the smart-ass comments that sat on the tip of my tongue, listening to this new, loving husband version of Vince Cole. I reminded myself that he was happy—I wanted that—and more importantly, my mother was happy.

  My mother’s brow creased in concern when she glanced my way. She would always worry about me. “Was everyone there married with children?”

  “No. Caleb’s wife Rene had a few of her friends from the network down and Darcy’s cousin was in from Chicago too.” I rolled my eyes. “Both of them were looking to set me up…I felt like a contestant on some lame reality TV show.”

  “Anyone interesting?”

  I sat on that one for a moment, looking out into the distance. All four of the single women at the party were good-looking, going somewhere in life, and not one had a dull personality. Still, I didn’t feel so much as a hint of interest towards any of them. “Nice women, but no.”

  “How is Rene doing?” My mother asked. “I saw her on the Sunday morning program a few weeks ago.”

  My father added, “Times have changed. They’d never have an obviously pregnant woman on camera anchoring the news when I was your age.”

  I smiled thinking about Rene, my shock at seeing a very pregnant woman wearing a bikini for the first time. And it’s not like I’m hot for my friend’s wife or anything, but I thought she looked oddly sexy like that. “It’s weird. She doesn’t look pregnant until she turns to the side and then you’re like…Whoa, she’s huge!”

  “She must be due soon.”

  “Middle of next month.”

  Disappointed, my mother said, “That’s too bad.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I was just planning on inviting all of those girls to the benefit. I’m sending my final list to the engravers today.”

  “Invite her anyway. Rene’s always up for anything as long as the timing works out.”

  Mom took a sip of her wine, studying me before she spoke. “There’s something I wanted to run by you, Dylan. You know how the benefit is going to be like an upscale consignment shop model, right?”

  I nodded, because she probably told me all this already but obviously I hadn’t been paying attention. My father chuckled, taking in my expression. “Neither Dylan or myself have any idea what an upscale consignment shop model is.”

  “Well, a consignment shop is a place where women of means can sell their clothing, items that are couture level quality. The store pays you, taking a percentage for themselves after the item sells.”

  My father looked as if he’d just gotten a whiff of something foul. “Have you ever sold your clothes?”

  “No,” my mother answered, as if the notion was ridiculous. “I donate my clothes. But people fall on hard times, Vince, and consignment shops can come in very handy when you’re in need of fast cash.” My mother took a hearty sip before adding, “I know that when my father’s gambling problem was at its worst, my mother unloaded suitcases full of her clothing at those shops, along with my favorite riding boots.”

  I knew my grandfather was no angel, but I had only good memories of the man. He taught me to play Texas Hold’em, helping me to amass my version of a fortune while I was still in middle school. So I was only into reminiscing about him when it was on a positive note. Changing the subject, I asked, “So how does it work for the benefit?”

  “I’ve called on all the ladies, along with designers, to donate their very gently used formal wear. The designers are donating items that have been worn in their runway shows. The guests at the benefit are going to bid on the items and the proceeds will go to the scholarship fund.” She smiled, adding, “Simple.”

  “Your friends won’t turn their nose up at bidding on used clothing?” my father asked.

  “I’ve invited all my friends, new and old.” Her face soured. “Some of them would die before they wore a used item, you’re right. But it’s for a worthy cause, so they’ll bid, even if they just turn around and dump the items in the trash afterwards.” She brightened when she said, “I’ve invited a diverse group with a lot of young blood, and the response I’ve gotten so far has been great.”

  “I’m assuming you’re taking cash donations too, right? I won’t be bidding on any dresses.”

  “Of course, Dylan. And I’m expecting a nice fat check from both you and your father.”

  “How many scholarships are you sponsoring the first year?” Dad asked.

  “Just two. One of the girls from the center is graduating from high school with a near perfect GPA, but I’m most excited about the other recipient—her mother. Her name is Cheryl Harris. The scholarship will enable Cheryl to take a leave of absence from work so she can be a full-time student. She’s had a tough life but she’s never lost her motivation to better herself. And she’s so excited about this opportunity. Cheryl and her daughter Skylar will be attending classes on different campuses but they’ll be experiencing college at the same time. Isn’t that wild?”

  My father squeezed her hand. “I think it’s great, and I think you’re amazing.”

  Following a look that went on a beat too long between
the two of them, I was just about to get up and excuse myself from the lovebirds when my mother stopped me. “Wait Dylan, I wanted to ask you something. I reached out to Jake Wozniak to see if he was okay with me donating a few of Kasia’s earlier original pieces for the auction. I hope you’re all right with that.”

  I was surprised. “What was Jake’s reaction?” I didn’t know the guy well, so I wasn’t entirely sure how he’d take my mother’s gesture. Would he see it as a compliment or as an intrusion?

  “He seemed really happy about it. In fact, he asked if his daughter could attend.”

  “So he’s bringing his daughter?”

  I didn’t know how I felt about that. There was definitely no ill will between us, it wasn’t that. And I’d come to realize years ago, even before I knew Kasia was sick, that while I would always love her, I was no longer in love with her. You can’t be in love with someone who is deeply in love with another person, who has a life and children with another man. I wasn’t in love with her as much as I regretted the behavior of my twenty-two-year-old self. But care for the woman and want only the best for her? Not a day went by that I didn’t want her to be happy, with or without me.

  “I told Jake he’s welcome, but that it would be mostly women.” She shot us both a look. “But you two will be sitting at my table to support the cause.” She added, “I reached out to Kasia’s mother as well, so she’ll be bringing Rachel.”

  “Can I have one of the invitations, Mom?”

  “You have someone you want to invite?”