by Megyn Ward
Ellie has curled up and now puts her thumb in her mouth. Gram gives me a stern look. She disapproves of Ellie sucking her thumb. We’ve discussed this, and even though Gram thinks encouraging her to stop would teach Ellie self-discipline, she honors my decision. It doesn’t prevent her from continuing her silent argument with me. She’s a great Gram and I love her.
I put my hands on my hips and give Gram the well? look.
She drops her gaze to her lap, then motions for me to sit on the chair next to the chaise. “I may not want him here, but the truth is, he’s desperate. I gave him a stipend to live on and he had some assets from his own investments. But he and That Woman have run through it all.”
I hate what’s coming. “They still have the monthly stipend.”
She looks pained. I understood why Jonas might think she needed to go to the ER. “They could live on the stipend, I suppose. But they’d have to live in a middle-class apartment. They couldn’t afford their own home. He’d have to give up his Ferrari and drive a Chevy or somesuch.”
“And that’s the consequences of his choices.” I don’t feel at all sorry for him or Simone.
Gram watches Ellie’s eyes flutter close and open in a battle with sleep. She shifts to me. “It’s true. But I feel complicit in his situation. I raised him and gave him everything he wanted. He’s used to luxury.”
I nod. I’m pretty comfortable with the opulence I’ve been around most of my life. I didn’t start out wealthy. Simone talks about living hand to mouth to pay for my acting lessons. But by the time I was five, I was earning bank in commercials and soap operas. I was fifteen when Liesa’s Life started and Jonas provided the setup. It made money quickly and paid for our travel, the clothes, restaurants, cars, entertainment.
When that ended, I came here and we’ve got the surroundings of the very rich. My house is the best of everything, including fine linens and décor. It would be hypocritical of me to say too much about Jonas making his own way.
I move over to the bed and start rubbing Ellie’s back. She’s still fighting sleep. “I understand how you feel you helped create his dependency. But it’s never too late to learn autonomy. He’ll be a better person for making his own way.”
Gram pats my knee. “I know you mean well. And I suspect you’re right. But how would you feel if Ellie desperately wanted something you had the power to give her and you deliberately held it back for her own good?”
Damn. Gram snuck inside my brain. She knows more than she lets on. Or else, my brain is so focused on Blake everything anyone says seems directed toward him. I don’t answer.
Gram’s fingers play on the fine satin of the lavender gown in her lap. “This brings me to a delicate matter.”
I clench, fearing what’s coming. “And that is?”
She exhales and gives me a sympathetic stare. “I won’t be around to help you out when you’re Jonas’s age.”
“Gram—.”
She puts a hand up. “Hear me out. I know you and Kylie are nothing like Jonas. Kylie was raised by a woman I regret never getting to meet. She’s a go-getter and I don’t worry so much about her.”
My gut twists with the comparison. I love Kylie and admire her so much. But there is a prick of jealousy because she seems to have her life all figured out.
Gram’s face softens. “I know you’ve got steel inside you. I’ve seen the way you are with Ellie. You were protective of Kylie and strong at the end of Liesa’s Life. You sacrificed a lot so Kylie and Zach could be together.”
I stare at the white coverlet and trace my finger across the embroidered pattern, awaiting the but that seemed inevitable.
“But.” There is was. “You need an independent source of income. When I’m gone, the bulk of my estate rests with Jonas.”
I already know this. But I don’t want to think about a time when Gram isn’t with us.
“You need to think about Ellie. She may not need wealth, but she needs stability. If you can’t provide a home for her, you might end up having to get help from her father.”
I won’t look Gram in the eye. She’s never asked who Ellie’s father is and I’ve never offered to tell. Not many people even knew Blake and I were friends, so I doubt Gram suspects it’s him.
I glance briefly at Gram, then back to the white coverlet. “In two years Ellie will be at school. It seems best if I can wait until then to go to work.”
There’s a touch of steel in Gram’s voice. “By then you’ll be a full-fledged recluse.”
I snap my head up. Does she know how hard it is for me to leave the compound? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Gram studies me. “Why don’t you take Ellie out anywhere except isolated beaches? How come you don’t join friends in the evenings for dinner or dancing? You only force yourself out when you’re helping Kylie.”
Anger rises. “Keeping track of a three-year-old in public is difficult.”
“I manage fine. At high tea last week Ellie was such an angel. People stopped by the table to comment on how well behaved she is.”
Pride does a drive-by before I settle back into defense. “And every time I go out in public, someone thinks they recognize me.”
Gram latches onto that. “Is that so bad?”
I jump up and start to pace. “Of course it’s bad.”
“Why?” She challenges me.
“Because I’m done with that life. I am not that self-centered whiny brat who thinks the world revolves around me. More importantly, I’m not the actress and daughter who allowed people who should have loved me to manipulate and control me. And what if some crazy fan notices me with Ellie? That exposes her to all kinds of things from inappropriate comments to kidnapping.”
Gram scowls. “Should we add paranoia underneath agoraphobia on the list of your mental issues?”
I spare a moment to aim angry eyes in her direction, then bend over to pick up my sleeping daughter.
I’m nearly to the door when Gram sighs. “This isn’t the topic I wanted to discuss this evening.”
I hate when Gram and I fight. It took me so many years to find someone who loves me like she does and I’m not sure how many years we’ll have together. Fighting steals our time. “What do you want to talk about?”
Gram’s look of weariness cracks my heart. “You must be able to support yourself because I don’t trust Jonas to take care of you.”
“I’ve never had someone take care of me until you.” Blake should have.
He’s the one you want taking care of you. And you taking care of him.
Gram sounds tired. “Yes, I could leave enough in a trust for you and Kylie. But then, at some point you’d end up like Jonas. Ashamed, broke, and desperate. The best I can do for you is force independence.”
Ellie’s dead weight is warm against my chest, her wispy breath puffs on my neck and I hold her tight, bracing for Gram’s announcement.
“If you haven’t made a rent payment by the first of the month, I’m afraid you’ll have to move out.”
“You’d do that to Ellie?”
A lump travels down Gram’s throat. I know this is as hard on her as it is on me. I also know when Gram makes a decision, it’s no use arguing with her. “Ellie is always welcome here. Between me and Deborah and Jacob we will happily provide daycare.”
I’m trembling. She’s making me go out to the world and expose myself again. I can’t do it.
Like she can read my mind, Gram sighs. “It’s for your own good.”
Chapter 20
Blake
I start after Lauren but Erika grabs my hand. She pulls me back and kisses me sweetly on the lips. “She said the place is private. Maybe we don’t need to rush out.”
I hardly look at Erika, still struggling to get to the door and chase Lauren. I have to tell her how much I love her. I can’t let her think she was only a weekender for me.
Erika runs a hand down my arm and slides it to the waistband of my shorts. She smiles in a pouty way she might
think looks sexy. “We could say a proper hello.”
I want to shake her off of me. When did she get so sexually aggressive? She’s always waited for me to make the first move. Passive, might be a good term for her.
I tug against her. “I really need to talk to Lauren. I’ll be right back.”
She won’t let go of my arm. “I just got here and I haven’t seen my Blakey for three whole days. Don’t you have some sugar for me?”
Okay. I never liked her little girl act. But now she’s laying it on like cake frosting that’s so sweet it hurts your teeth. I jerk loose from her. “I said, I’ll be right back.”
Fuck. Her big brown eyes open wide and get all watery. Her full, pouty lips tremble. “Did I do something wrong?”
I love Lauren. She’s the most important person to me. But I owe Erika more than to be treated like yesterday’s stinky fish. I’m an asshole.
I make myself stay in the dive shop with Erika and pray I can catch up to Lauren later and explain.
Oh god, please let it be okay.
“No,” I say to Erika. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She lowers her chin. “But you’re mad at me?”
I shake my head, hating what I’m going to do to her. She loves me. Or at least, she says she does. She’s built her life around me. Planned her future as my wife.
Damn it, she’s even picked out her wedding dress and had me taste cakes. This is going to be bad. And not something I should do moments after her arriving in Cayman.
“Let’s get cleaned up. I’ll take you to dinner.”
She brightens. “I love seafood. Do you know a good place?”
By the time we get to the parking lot, Lauren is long gone. I want to leave Erika standing on the hot pavement and race after Lauren. She’s hurting.
Because you hurt her.
Again.
I never wanted to. I only want to make her smile. Build a world for her that is safe and sunny and full of support. She’s had so much betrayal and manipulation.
“I had the taxi drive by your hotel and I dropped my bags there. I didn’t know how long you planned to stay so I brought enough clothes to last a week.”
Bags? Plural? For a week on the island? Kylie and Diana had one bag each when we were ready to fly back to the States. One bag of everything they’d need. How did all of Erika’s girly-girl quirks ever seem tolerable to me?
Because I let myself forget my friends. It hurt to remember Kylie and Diana and the fun we had. The way we turned up the music and danced in our little hovel late at night. Every day felt like a party. Until it didn’t. But even then, we had each other. Our own little family. They never pouted and pretended to be helpless.
And Lauren. Damn. There was never a woman so strong. She’d been shit on plenty and I wanted to make sure that never happened to her again. But she took it and stayed standing. Fearless.
Doesn’t take a PhD in psychology to understand I’d chosen Erika because she was nothing like the women I love and care about. Now that I’m thinking about it honestly, I remember how Deb and Ken cringed when Erika latched onto my arm and leaned into me the night they’d come to NYC to meet her. The rain beat on the sidewalk and Erika had pleaded with me to go to the curb to get a cab and she’d run from under the awning when I’d open the door of the taxi. Mom had marched to the curb with her arm out, beating me and Dad to the punch.
They didn’t often ask about Erika when they called. When I lived in Cayman and they’d been to visit, they’d immediately liked Kylie and asked about her long after I’d gone back to school. Eventually, my noncommittal replies had stopped them.
And here I am, with Erika in the passenger seat, chattering away about how weird it is to drive on the left and how the man next to her on the flight smelled like cigars, and what her bestie thought about the centerpieces she’d picked for the wedding and wait until I see them because they are spectacular. I swear it’s a sugary version of the worst of Liesa Temple with all the inappropriate emotion heaped on inconsequential things.
Lauren is out there in pain. I can’t help her.
The more I ignore Erika, the more animated she becomes until I’m ready to snap. We pull into the hotel and I ask the valet to leave the car out since we’re only going to shower and go eat.
Erika winks at the valet. “We might be a little bit longer than he thinks.” She holds up her hand and shows him “just a pinch.”
He grins and is clearly charmed. Erika is a cute girl and she is nice to people. I’m the worst kind of prick to ask her to marry me and then dump her like this.
I try to soften my voice but I don’t want to take any longer than necessary. “We’ll be back down soon.”
“Yes, sir.” He thinks I’m a jerk.
I am.
Despite Erika bouncing after me and planting little kisses on my arms and neck, I manage to duck into the shower. Erika, of course, she needs more time. It takes her far longer to get herself ready to go out than necessary. I feel bad I told the valet to leave the car out. I hadn’t thought about the stages of Erika’s preparation.
I hear the hair dryer, so I know when that step is accomplished, but what takes another hour is beyond my understanding. I know enough to tell her she looks great, but Erika doesn’t look nearly as good as Lauren when she jumps off the dive boat after a day on the ocean.
The valet gives me a sly grin when he hands me my car key. “You’re a lucky man.”
Lucky. Right.
I love a girl that I only succeed in hurting. I don’t love a girl who is devoted to me.
The best seafood place I know is a hole-in-the-wall fish shack close to our old dump in the middle of the island. But Erika wouldn’t feel like she got a good experience there. Also, if I’m going to break her heart, shouldn’t I at least let her have an elegant meal beforehand?
It takes a half hour to get to the restaurant I have in mind at a dive resort on the west side of the island. The whole way, Erika is planning what we’ll do and see in the next couple of days.
“It’s sort of a pre-wedding honeymoon. Which is great, because you’ll need to take one of those job offers when you get back and won’t have time off for a year or so before we can take the honeymoon.”
She giggles. She fucking giggles. So. Much. Giggling.
I grit my teeth and try to steer the conversation to other things. “How’s the weather in New York?”
Weather? You can’t think of anything else?
Because your mind is on Lauren. What is she feeling? What is she thinking? Will you get a chance to explain? Will she forgive you?
Erika pauses and looks at me with a puzzled expression. “Weather? It’s May. The perfect time to be in New York. It’s so romantic. The flowers are in bloom and everything is wonderful. Except you’re not there.”
I keep my eyes on the road.
“So, that girl at the shop. She’s the one you’re going to ask to be your best man?” Erika throws it out there as if me having Kylie being my best man is something she’s cool with.
In fairness, she hadn’t openly complained about me asking Kylie, but she’d pursed her lips and been silent for a long time before saying, “Isn’t it weird to have a girl as your best man?”
“Not weird. She’s my best friend.”
She looked surprised. “Really? Because I’ve never heard of her. I mean, we have beers with Danny and Aaron all the time. They both seem like good friends. And they’re, you know, men. As in best man.”
That’s about as close to a fight as we ever came. Erika gave in, as usual. She bounced back to her usual cheeriness and I told myself how fortunate I was to have a girl who didn’t fight me on everything. I ignored the nagging voice that said a real person would push back on some things, some times.
I realize she’s waiting for me to respond. “No. That wasn’t Kylie.”
She shakes her head. “She really looks like Liesa Temple. I mean, Liesa if she shaved her head. She ought to let her hair grow. I thin
k girls who do that to their hair make themselves so masculine. I mean, we’re girls. We’re different from men. I say, viva la difference.”
I should keep my mouth shut but I can’t help it. “I like it. She looked plenty feminine to me.”
Erika flops back into the car seat. “Well. Should I be jealous? Maybe I should shave my head.”
She says it as if she’s teasing but I catch a bite. “You have great hair. Don’t cut it.”
That seems to satisfy her. At least enough she springs over to kiss my shoulder and run her fingernails lightly over my scalp. I used to like that. It sent chills across my head and down my spine. Now I’m annoyed and brush her hand away.
Erika loves the restaurant and I try my best to keep everything as neutral as possible during the meal. If she notices I’m closed up and uncomfortable, she doesn’t show it. Doesn’t bother with any conversation that means anything at all.
She keeps the chatter rolling with only slight encouragement from me. I can’t eat much of my crab cakes. They fall like a glob of paste to my belly.
How Erika manages to stuff her entire plate of garlic shrimp, fried prawns, and shrimp cocktail into her petite frame is a mystery I’ll never solve. But she insists on finishing up with dessert to split.
When the cheesecake arrives, my stomach is churning, knowing what I’m going to have to do when we get to the hotel. Erika, apparently unsuspecting, doesn’t seem to notice I eat one bite and set my fork down.
The drive back to the hotel is more of the same and I vacillate between guilt for dropping the ball on her, and wanting to reach across the small car, open the door, and shove her out. That would give me opportunity to turn the car around and head back to Lauren’s house.
But I keep my hands on the wheel and my mouth shut and we make it back to the hotel not long after the sun sets.
I turn the key over to the valet and we enter the open-air lobby of the hotel. Erika, who is dangling off my arm again, gazes up at me. “Let’s get a bottle of champagne and take it upstairs.”
I clench my jaw, irritated with Erika, worried about Lauren, and hating myself. “Let’s go to our room.”
