“Honestly, Jamison?” I whisper, glancing back at him over my shoulder, “I’m just not sure you can.”
He stares at me with his unreadable blue eyes as I turn away from him and step out into the warm summer night. I stagger down to the curb, hailing a cab as it whizzes by. I’m barely holding it together as I sink into the backseat of the taxi, breathing hard.
“Where to?” the driver asks, glancing up at me in the rearview mirror.
I’d been planning on heading back uptown to spend the night at my Riverside Drive studio. But suddenly, the idea of being in a mostly-empty apartment tonight is too much to bear. There’s only one place I can go now that will give me the comfort I so desperately need. The last place to feel like home before Jamison’s house here on West 10th Street.
“Penn Station,” I tell the driver, “Just drop me near the New Jersey Transit terminal.”
The driver nods and takes off toward Midtown. I settle back against the shabby backseat, holding Gigi’s carrier close as we fly through the gathering night. On the streets of New York city, the bars and restaurants are overflowing with couples in the throes of love. But I feel as though my own burgeoning love story has just come to a screeching halt. This week was a brief glimpse into what I could have had with Jamison in another life. A life without contractually bound love, and convoluted PR schemes, and the interests of a gigantic corporation looming between us. Gathering my things, I hurry down into the belly of Penn Station. I’ve made this trip from the city many times before, but scarcely has it felt so urgent.
“One ticket to Little Silver,” I tell the woman behind the behind the counter.
“Round trip?” she asks, eyeing me through her half-moon glasses.
“…No,” I tell her, “Just one way.”
She prints me my ticket without another word. I walk off slowly, ticket in hand, waiting for the train to arrive and carry me home at last.
Chapter Twelve
“Lee,” my dad says from my bedroom doorway Wednesday morning, “I’m heading out to work. There’s some coffee in the kitchen if you want.”
“Thanks Dad,” I reply, not looking up from my laptop, “I’ll get some in a second.”
“You, uh, sure they’re not gonna mind you working from here all week?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe.
“Not at all,” I tell him, not stirring from my cross-legged position on my childhood bed, “My assistant is forwarding all my calls to my cell, and I can manage everything else remotely.”
“You can’t avoid him forever, you know,” Dad says, cutting through my breezy small talk, “Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to talk to Jamison about where you two stand.”
I take a deep breath, finally granting my father my full attention.
“Dad, I told you, I’m just taking some time to think,” I remind him.
“You also told me that Loudon’s lawyers are expecting a final answer from you two by week’s end,” he replies, “It wouldn’t kill you to check in with Jay and see what he’s thinking.”
I know that my dad is right. I can’t just keep shutting Jamison out like this. His calls and texts were incessant over the weekend, after I first fled New York. But as the days have gone by, his communications have dwindled. The last I heard from him was yesterday morning. A simple text that just read, “I’m sorry, Leah”.
But I can’t help that I’m not ready to forgive him just yet. He’s given me plenty of pretty words to tell me how sorry he is, but what I really need is for him to take action. Even if he’s right, and I did just overreact out of some desire to bail out of our relationship, that doesn’t explain his manipulative move with Svea. Or their hours-long playdate last week, either.
“I’ll sort everything out in my own time,” I tell my dad, “I promise.”
“What happened between you guys, Lee?” Dad asks sadly, “You seemed so happy when you called to tell me the news about your engagement. You seemed so sure.”
“I thought I was,” I tell him quietly, “But now… I don’t know. Is it even possible to be entirely sure about another person?”
“Of course it is,” Dad says, coming to sit at the foot of my bed, “I was sure about your mom. And I know she was sure about me, too.”
“Yeah, but you guys had this perfect, storybook romance,” I smile sadly, “I’m talking about regular, flawed, normal people like me and Jay.”
“I know we made it look easy,” Dad chuckles, “But your mom and I had our struggles, too. Every couple does. Not everyone has to overcome the, uh, complications you and Jay have been faced with. But all relationships take work, Lee. Hate to be the bearer of bad news.”
“Do you think…” I start in a rush, struggling to find the right words, “Do you think I’m… incapable of opening up to someone else? Of truly letting someone in?”
“Well…” Dad sighs, “You’ve grown up to be a pretty self-sufficient young woman, Lee. I’ll say that.”
“I guess it’s always felt safer to just go it alone,” I reflect, drawing my knees into my chest, “It’s certainly less complicated.”
“It’s a lot lonelier too though, isn’t it?” Dad smiles sadly.
“Yeah…” I allow, “Yeah, it really is.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” he goes on, “It makes a certain sense that you’d balk at getting close to someone. Coming to really care about them, and all that.”
“Why do you figure?” I ask him.
“Because you know how much it hurts, losing someone who has your whole heart,” he says, taking my hand in his, “You lost your mom when you were just a kid, Lee. Most people’s first heartbreak is over some case of puppy love, but yours was with one of the most profound losses anyone ever goes through. It’s no wonder you’d want to guard yourself after that.”
“I…I never thought of it that way,” I say softly, looking up at my dad’s ruddy face.
“Yeah, well. That’s what you’ve got me for,” he smiles, planting a kiss on the back of my hand, “To point this stuff out to you.”
“What would I do without you?” I laugh, as he stands to go.
“Beats me,” he shrugs, “Probably just pay a lot more for therapy.”
I shake my head as he heads for the door, pausing to glance back at me just before he goes to work.
“I know you’re upset with Jay, and I’m sure he deserves it. But at least hear him out, OK Lee? I’d hate for you two to miss out on something great just because you’re both too stubborn to meet each other halfway.”
“I promise I’ll talk to him,” I assure my dad, “When I’m ready.”
But despite desperately wanting to be ready, I just can’t convince myself to pick up the phone and call Jay back. The days roll by, without another peep from him. I distract myself with work, plowing through all sorts of planning and team-building for Huntress of Tomorrow now that I’ve secured Elsie’s blessing to move ahead with my vision for the project. But even as I work, I find myself wishing I was back at Jamison’s side in our attic library. His input on this project wasn’t just something I tolerated, it was crucial. Illuminating. Something I’d come to depend on…
And whether I like it or not, it’s starting to dawn on me that I’ve come to depend on Jay himself, too.
I’m amazed when Friday afternoon rolls around. I’ve spent an entire week buried in my work, tuning out the rest of the world to avoid dealing with my wayward engagement. It’s already been a week since I packed my things and left Jay’s brownstone. We only have a couple more days to talk over our options for moving forward before Loudon’s lawyers will start knocking down our doors, demanding an answer. Like it or not, I need to talk to him. Today.
It’s early evening by the time I finally work up the nerve to give Jay a call. Wearing my favorite comfy sweatpants and a cotton pullover, I head downstairs to the cottage kitchen and grab a beer out of the fridge. If I’m going to do this, it won’t be without a drink in my hand. Just as I’m settling down at the table with
my cell and bottle of Brooklyn Lager, my phone starts to ring of its own accord.
My heart flies into my throat as I look down at the screen, expecting to see Jamison’s name illuminated there. But instead, I see the name of my friend Alice Phillips—the lawyer who looked over Loudon’s will for me. I haven’t heard from her in the couple of weeks since then. I have no idea why she’d be calling again now.
“Hey Al,” I say, taking the call, “How’s it going?”
“Superbly,” she answers excitedly, “For me and you both.”
“What do mean?” I ask, surprised by her ecstatic tone.
“This legal situation of yours has been driving me absolutely crazy,” she goes on, “I knew there must be some wiggle room for you, but I just couldn’t figure it out for the longest time. But Leah…I finally cracked it. I found you a loop hole.”
I sit silently in the cottage kitchen as her words sink in.
“You… You found…?” I stammer.
“I found you a way out! It’s a little unorthodox, but hey, so is this damn will.”
“Um…What is it?” I ask her, taking a long swig of beer.
“Here’s the thing,” Alice says excitedly, “Loudon King’s will states that in order to become co-presidents of the company, you and Jamison have to get married. But nowhere does it say you have to stay married.”
“OK…?” I reply, not getting it. Or rather, not wanting to.
“So, you can get out of this on a technicality!” she says triumphantly, “Go through the motions of getting married, file the paperwork, blah blah blah, and then just get the thing annulled! Then you and Jamison King can just be business partners, you know, like any non-deranged human would have suggested in the first place.”
“Loudon King was not deranged,” I snap, before I can stop myself.
“Right. Sorry,” Alice says, “I didn’t mean to insult him, or—”
“He knew Jamison and I better than anyone. He was just trying to make sure we’d be happy. Since apparently we can’t be trusted with our own happiness…”
“Uh…Leah? Is everything OK?” Alice asks cautiously. “I thought this would be good news for you.”
“I’m sorry. Of course, it’s… Thank you so much for your help, Al,” I tell my friend, rubbing my temples anxiously, “I really appreciate you dedicating so much time to this.”
“It’s no trouble,” she assures me, “Always happy to help out a friend. Just let me know if you need anything else, OK? Divorce papers, for example?”
“Right,” I reply with a hollow laugh, “Will do, Al. Bye.”
I end the call, staring blankly at my cell as I place it back on the table. A week ago, a phone call like this would have felt like divine intervention. A miracle of the highest order. Salvation. But now? It’s just leaving me with a bad taste in my mouth. I take another long sip of beer, trying to nail down what has me so upset.
Obviously, there’s a huge social stigma around divorce, but I don’t buy into that at all. Divorce can be a hugely responsible thing to do. And I never felt that marriage itself was necessarily sacred…before. But now, the idea of getting married only to end it just as quickly…? The very thought turns my stomach. Especially since it would be Jamison I’d be entering into a sham marriage with. Jamison, who I actually care about. Very deeply.
That realization travels through me like a bolt of lightning. All at once, I’m on my feet, my hands pressed to my mouth. Of course the idea of going through some fake marriage charade with Jamison is appalling to me. But not because it’s dishonest or immoral. Because it’s Jamison. And I don’t want to have a fake marriage with him.
I want a real one.
In my mind’s eye, the scene of his proposal arises once again. But it isn’t the flowers, or the diamond, or the spectacle of it all that occurs to me in this moment. It’s the look in Jamison’s eye as he watched me find the ring. He was excited, and open—not trying to be suave, not putting on airs. It wasn’t the public, playboy persona of Jamison King that asked me to be his wife that day. It was the Jay I’ve known since I was a little kid. The Jay who used to pore over sci-fi classics with me in the gazebo, who knew exactly what would comfort me after my mom died, who was willing to share his entire life with me, no questions asked. That’s the Jay I know.
And that’s the Jay I want to marry.
I stand in the kitchen as the realization washes over me. Suddenly, everything about this past week makes sense: the way I reacted when I felt Jay betrayed my trust, my need to flee New York to keep my heart from getting bruised any further, my reluctance to talk to Jay about any of this. I was trying to protect myself from admitting the truth—that somewhere along the way, our engagement stopped being about sex, business, and convenience. At some point, it just started being about us.
I jump about a foot in the air as I hear the doorbell ring. Oh god. Did Jay get sick of waiting for me to call him back and come out here to confront me in person? I catch a glimpse of myself in the darkened kitchen window—no makeup, sweats, my red hair in a messy top knot. But there’s no time to pretty myself up, now. What's that saying about “being able to handle me at my worst…?”
“I’m coming,” I call, as the doorbell sounds again. Sweatpants be damned, I guess Jay and I are having this conversation right now.
Heart hammering against the chest, I swing the front door wide open, a breathless smile overtaking my face. But the corners of my mouth turn down at once when I see that the tall, handsome man I was expecting is actually short and white-haired.
“Don’t look so happy to see me,” says Gregory Price, the King family’s lawyer.
“Mr. Price,” I say, trying to recover from the crushing disappointment tugging at my heart, “What a surprise… Do you want to come in?”
“Oh no, that won’t be necessary,” he says, handing over a thick manila envelope, “I just wanted to drop off the new contracts in person. Get them back to me sometime over the weekend, would you? Monday morning at the latest.”
“I’m sorry,” I cut in, holding the heavy envelope in my hands, “What new contracts are you talking about?”
“I just finished drawing them up with Jamison earlier today,” Price replies, “I think you’ll find that everything is in order.”
“Mr. Price, forgive me, but I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” I tell the dignified lawyer.
“Did… Did Jamison not discuss the details with you?” Price asks, his white eyebrows shooting up.
“Jamison didn’t discuss anything with me,” I say, fear mounting in my gut.
“Ah. Well,” Price says, “Everything is laid out there in the new paperwork. You’ll find his certified letter of intent right on top, there. I’ll just leave you to it.”
Before I can say another word, Price has turned on his heel and hurried back to his waiting car. I let the front door close slowly behind me as I step back inside, padding down the hallway toward the kitchen once more. Dread starts to tug at the corners of my mind as I sit back down at the table with the hefty envelope before me. I drain the last of my beer before opening up the envelope, letting a thick stack of papers slide out onto the table top.
Just as Price said, there’s a single loose sheet of paper topping the staggering pile. My heart leaps as I see Jamison’s name and address in the top right corner, but it falls just as quickly at the letter’s clinical, legal look. I try and memorize how I feel in this moment, before reading Jay’s letter. Because something tells me that once I’m done, everything about my life will change. And not necessarily for the better.
Finally, I manage to wrestle my eyes down to the body of Jay’s letter,
Dear Mr. Price and Associates,
I, Jamison King, am writing to formally withdraw myself from consideration for the role of president at King Enterprises. While I am of course honored to be thought of as a successor to my late father, I believe it would be in the best interest of the company for Leah Brody to take on the positio
n of president on her own. Ms. Brody has been an exemplary employee of King Enterprises for many years, and has unparalleled expertise in her field. I look forward to learning from Ms. Brody as I continue on in my role as creative executive of my family’s company.
With my withdrawal from the position of president, I am also dissolving any matrimonial obligation on Ms. Brody’s part. There is no reason for us to follow through with my father’s proposed marriage, as I am willingly giving the sole presidency of the company to her. I have no doubt that my father’s intentions in this matter were good, but I feel now that marriage should not be untaken as a matter of strategy or convenience. A marriage entered into under anything other than free will is no marriage at all. I only regret that I did not have the sense to come to this realization sooner, and do the right thing by Ms. Brody and King Enterprises from the start.
Sincerely,
Jamison King
The second my eyes land on Jamison’s signature, I read through his letter a second time. And then a third. It isn’t until the fourth read that the meaning of his message begins to sink in; Jamison has set me free. And instead of this freedom feeling like a dismissal, it feels like the ultimate gift. Clarity washes over me as I sit there at my old kitchen table. Without the intense pressure of Loudon’s will hanging overhead, I know more than ever what I want. And what I have to do.
I pick up my cell phone with steady hands and open up a new text to Jay.
“Thank you,” I tell him simply, knowing those two words carry the weight of all I’m feeling at this moment.
I hear my dad let himself in through the front door, whistling as he walks into the kitchen. He stops short as he sees me there, sitting before the stack of contracts.
“Lee, what’s all this?” he asks, looking warily down at the papers.
“It’s a new start,” I tell him, rising to my feet and walking past him.
“Where are you going?” he asks, baffled by my serene demeanor.
“I’m gonna go clean myself up,” I tell him, “And then I think I’ll get some fresh air.”
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