A Delicate Truth

by McKnight, Zoe

  Should I call him and thank him? Elle would say no, that he at least owed me that, and on some level, I agree, but I call him anyhow and leave an appreciative message.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  At seven-forty-five Dylan is ringing my buzzer.

  I stumble out of bed and make my way to the intercom to buzz him in. Then I quickly brush my teeth in the time it takes them to ascend the four stories to my apartment.

  I open the door. He’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he always is in the morning. Morgan, however, is in his arms, dead-asleep. She’s just like me, not at all a morning person.

  I take her from his arms, carry her to my bedroom and rest her down. She’s still wearing her Cinderella pajamas.

  “She refused to change out of them,” he says.

  “Want some coffee? Wait. I don’t have any. Tea?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah, I have some down in the car. I have to be going.”

  If I could cook, maybe I could lure him to stay with the scent of an omelet or pancakes. But I have no such skills so I just say okay and thank him for saving me a trip.

  He starts for the door, then turns back and says, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “What?”

  “How come you never told me?”

  “Told you what?”

  “About you and Vaughn.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I just didn’t think you would’ve cared.”

  “And why wouldn’t I?”

  “Why would you?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “What would you have said if I told you?”

  He jams his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I just wish you had.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. I don’t know … Forget it. I shouldn’t even be saying any of this.”

  “No, no. What are you saying?”

  He shifts on his feet. “I just thought it was something you would’ve told me. Not that I ever expected it. But after everything we’ve been through, I just figured…”

  “I wanted to tell you but I just didn’t want you to question why I was telling you.”

  “And why would I question it?”

  “I mean. It’s just that you and Gayle and—”

  “What does Gayle have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t know. I just got the impression that, beyond Morgan, you didn’t care about anything that happened in my life.”

  “I’ll always care about what happens to you, Blair, and not just because of our daughter. You should know that. I mean I said it in the let—”

  This is the first time he’s mentioned the letter. For all he knows I never even received it. I’m sure the last thing he thinks is that it’s laying in the drawer of my nightstand. Or that it’s been read so many times it’s worn with creases and some of the words have faded. But I know it by heart. Line-for-line.

  “You did get it, didn’t you?”

  I nod.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he says. “It really was none of my business.”

  “I never said that.”

  “But it’s not. There was no reason for you to have told me.”

  I stop him. “Dylan, I read your letter. More times than you know. And I’ve been thinking about you. About us. Ever since that day back in November. I never said anything because … well, because I know you’re in a new relationship now and because I know how much I’ve hurt you and there’s nothing I can say to make it right at this point. But you have to know that even before Vaughn and I split, you’ve been on my mind and…”

  I hesitate. Have I said too much? Oh what the hell, the die is already cast. “…and I still can’t stop thinking about you.”

  There, I said it. I hold my breath in anticipation.

  He studies me for a moment, then stares down at his shoes. The silence is killing me, but I won’t speak first.

  He looks up, jingles his keys in his hand and says, “Uh … I’ve got to go, Blair. I’m late. I … I’ll talk to you later.”

  In a flash he’s out the door.

  I’m speechless. How could he just leave like that? And not even acknowledge any of what I said. He practically dragged it out of me then leaves me hanging. I couldn’t be more embarrassed if an entire audience had just witnessed that. I sit in a daze. Did he really just leave? “I’ve got to go, Blair.” Really? I almost want to laugh. I feel like a complete fool. How will I ever face him again?

  Just then my buzzer rings. I press the intercom and hear his voice. “It’s me. Can I come up?”

  What? Did he forget to pour some salt on my wounds?

  “I’m sorry,” he says as he re-enters. “I can’t imagine how that must have sounded.”

  I stand with my arms folded, still feeling the sting.

  “I didn’t mean to come across that way. I … I just didn’t expect to hear you say that.”

  “I was just being honest.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “What?”

  “Downstairs, it lists your maiden name. Does that mean it’s official?”

  “Yes. Yes, our divorce is final.”

  “Did you mean what you said? About thinking about me all of the time?”

  “Dylan, please. Don’t do this. I can’t have you playing with my feelings.”

  He steps towards me. “I’m not. Did you mean it?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

  My heart pounds in my chest. “Are you serious?”

  “Very.”

  “What about Gayle?”

  “I care about her. But … but it’s nothing like what I feel for you. It never was. Back in November, at my house … I can’t get it out of my mind. I tried, but—”

  “But what?”

  “But, I can’t. Blair, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. The only woman I ever wanted to be with.”

  “I thought you were through with me.”

  “I was, only because I had no choice but to be. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. I couldn’t allow myself to want you when you belonged to someone else.”

  He steps toward me, and kisses me. And yes, this kiss is different. Different than the ones two years ago, different than it was in November. I can’t explain how, it just is. I feel every bit of confusion, sadness and frustration peel away, layer by layer. I open my eyes to make sure this isn’t one of my dreams mocking me. No, this is for real. Dylan is really standing here in my living room, in my arms, kissing me.

  “Are we really going to do this?” he asks.

  “You don’t want to?”

  “There’s nothing I want more, but I need to know that you’re all in.” His expression is grave. “I need to know.”

  “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

  “Mommy.” We look up to see Morgan standing in the hallway. Her eyes light up when she sees Dylan. She runs towards us.

  No one could have told me a year ago that this is where I’d be. I have so much less, but I’m fulfilled in a way I never imagined possible. I have everything I need. My daughter. Dylan. And now, a family.

  Acknowledgments

  My eternal thanks to my closest friends for their enthusiasm and support of this second book. And, also for their unending patience as I tossed ideas, thoughts and questions at them time and time again. Your willingness to read drafts and offer insightful feedback is so greatly appreciated. Without you I wouldn’t have made it through the process. THANK YOU!

  And, thank you to all of those who read Living in Glass Houses and gave me the confidence to deliver another novel. To the book clubs who welcomed me and for all of their overwhelming support. The discussions and debates over the characters, as if they were real people, was testament to my passion to write stories people can relate to.

  Finally, a special thanks to my Mom and Dad, not only for being amazing parents, but for becoming my two closest friend
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  About The Author

  Zoe McKnight was born and raised in New York. After graduating from Hofstra University with a degree in business, she launched a career in marketing and public relations. Author of Living in Glass Houses, she currently lives in New York City. To learn more, visit www.zmcknight.com.