by Lori L. Otto
I can’t even imagine her doing anything like that to me, but I know the Trey and Coley bubble is pretty impermeable right now. It’s new and exciting; sweet and tantalizing. It’s pretty sturdy, and I don’t feel that changing any time soon. But later, will it weaken? Could she waver? Could her passion for life–for me–be directed elsewhere? I just… can’t.
But are there really relationships that are made to survive unfaithfulness like that? The answer has always been no for me. Maybe it’s not so black and white. Maybe the answer is more complicated than that. Like some relationships can’t survive the death of a child, or even a job loss or a move across the country. It could be the strength of the bond two people have. If it’s really strong enough, maybe it could actually survive an outside affair. It’s something I’d rather not consider for myself, but that is the question Max has posed.
“Like,” I begin, “I don’t think there’s anything that could break up my parents. Not that I think either of them would be unfaithful, but if that ever happened, I honestly think they could survive it.” And I do. If I believe that of my parents and strive to have that with my own wife one day, then… maybe the answer could be yes.
“We aren’t talking about the match made in heaven. I’m talking about you and Coley. Could you forgive her?”
The reality is that it’s not something I can wrap my head around today. It makes me feel queasy just thinking about her doing that. I shake my head. “No, but–”
“Then stop trying to get me to forgive him, okay? Be friends with him all you want, but please tell him to move on. I have. How would you like it if I decided to hound you for the next year and a half to take back Zaina because I firmly believed I knew better than you did?”
“I’d be pissed and annoyed,” I answer meekly. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Max. I never really looked at it that way.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “I wish it had never happened. I wish I could forgive him. I just can’t move past it,” he admits.
“I don’t know what it takes to move past something like that,” I say aloud. “Maybe more years together. More life experience? A bond forged together by children? Who knows? And while I hope I never have to consider such monumental forgiveness, I do hope to have that connection with someone–with Coley–someday. The years. The experiences… even the kids. I want it all with her.”
He stares at me from across the room. “You’re really sure about her, aren’t you?”
“Unwavering in my confidence, Max. I’ve never felt such a part of another person before. Where her needs may as well be my own. She’s like an extension of myself, but better in so many ways. She’s delicate and beautiful, feisty and expressive, sexual and sensitive. Spontaneous and exciting. I love being around her, and I like myself even more when I’m with her.”
When I look up at Max, he’s smiling from ear to ear. “I don’t want to admit that I think there’s a spark between you two that I never once saw with you and Zany. I want to be an advocate for her, I do… but five minutes with you and Coney, and I knew there’d be no use in even trying. Not because she had no chance–even though that’s true–but because I want you to be happy, Trey… I want you to have what Jon and Livvy have. What Will and Shea have. Fuck, what your mom and dad have… And with some relationships, when the love is strong, it leaks out and surrounds the people who come near them. That’s what happened to me tonight. I had every intention of confronting you about Zany… but any negative feelings I had before I walked in here were gone after a few minutes with the two of you.”
“Well, to be fair, Coley has no enemies.”
“And neither do you.”
“Well, it’s obvious that’s not true after what happened yesterday.” I sigh.
“Asher Knoxland doesn’t count as a human being, Trey,” Max says assuredly. “Jon told me what he did to Jenny.”
“He’s ruined so many lives.”
“But he won’t ruin any more. And fuck him. He was your only enemy for his own selfish reasons–not for anything you did to him.”
“I apparently started dating the girl he wanted.”
“Fuck that. He didn’t own her, and she wanted you. Look, you’re the best guy I know. And if Coley’s got the same character and values you have, then nothing but great things can come out of this relationship.”
“You called her Coley,” I tell him.
“I can be serious every now and then. And seriously… I like her. For her and for you.”
“Thanks, Max.”
“Didn’t you get up to eat?” he asks, only after taking the last bite of food.
“I suddenly wasn’t hungry. Do you want to help me with something? Now that you’re awake?”
“What?”
“I have to move. I can’t stay in this place knowing what happened here. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what I saw. Will you help me start looking for places online? I want to narrow it down so I can just go to a few places tomorrow and get everything sorted out.”
“You’re going to go out in public? Tomorrow?”
“My skin is crawling. I don’t know if I was in shock earlier, but all of a sudden, being inside this apartment is about the last place I want to be. A woman was brutally raped right there. Coley and I were victimized, right in this living room. I don’t like it here anymore.”
“Sure, I’ll help,” he says. I hand him my iPad and give him some parameters for my search. “Do you think you might get rid of this couch? Because it’s super comfy.”
“No, Max. You’re not taking my couch.”
“Fucker.”
chapter twenty-three
“It’s really fun having your dad on security detail,” I tell Coley with a hint of sarcasm as we sit in the backseat of his unassuming sedan.
“Without him, you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, Jackson,” my father says from the front passenger seat. “He’s the only reason you were able to sneak away from your apartment today, and his adept driving skills are the only reason we’ve escaped the paparazzi the few times they’ve spotted us. So I’d be thanking him, if I were you.”
“I do appreciate it, Martin. I’m just frustrated with the situation. I hope you understand.”
“I do,” he tells me, meeting my eyes through the rearview mirror.
I squeeze Coley’s hand in mine. “Thanks for coming with me today.”
“I don’t want to stay alone with Asher still out there–especially at your place. I think moving is a good idea. You didn’t like the last apartment?”
“I loved the building. I just didn’t like the location.”
“I agree,” her dad says. “It didn’t feel safe.”
“Three-twenty-one West 110th. Is this the place?” Dad asks me.
I look out the window up at the tall building, feeling nervous already. “This is the one.” I’ve been emailing the building manager all morning. By some stroke of luck, they have a penthouse available. It’s on the 22nd floor with amazing views and a nearly six-million-dollar price tag. With all the other places, I was looking to rent. But this place is for sale, and if it lives up to the pictures and the hype Max and I read about the building last night online, then I want to buy it.
Or rather, I want Dad to finally make that investment for me. I don’t have that kind of money yet. It’s why I asked him to come along, not that he realizes that yet.
“Really close to where you are now.”
“It’s nice being close to school… and I like the area. I’m used to everything here.”
“I like it.” Martin seems pleased with the corner locale right across from Morningside Park. I love it, too. It’s what I love about my current place, but this building is even closer to Central Park, too–only a block away.
“You’ve still got a Starbucks,” Coley says as her dad parallel parks in a designated spot.
“Let’s go see what they have,” Dad says. Coley and I pull up our hoods. Just as we’ve done all day, she and her father exit the car
first. If there’s going to be any commotion, it’ll come when people see me or my father, and we all decided we wanted Coley to be as far away from it as possible. “Do you know what we’re looking at?”
“Three-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath.”
“Square footage?”
“Well… over twenty-one-hundred square feet,” I tell him quickly.
“What? That’s huge.” I get out of the car when I see an opportunity where few people are on the sidewalk. Dad meets me inside a few seconds later. We’re all relieved that we’ve made it to this appointment with no crowd.
“Mr. Holland,” an impeccably dressed man says, walking briskly toward us. “I’m Mark Lenneman.” He shakes my father’s hand, even though I’m the one who’s been emailing him all morning. I guess he knows who’d really be paying. “Trey,” he says, finally looking at me. “Welcome to One Morningside Park–hopefully your new home.”
“If it’s as good as you say it is,” I respond, shaking his hand. “This is my girlfriend, Coley, and her father, Martin.”
“Now, will Coley be living here, too?”
“She’s welcome anytime,” I respond without hesitating, but my face still grows hot from being put on the spot like that.
“I’m a freshman at Columbia,” she says. “I have to stay in the dorms.”
“Right,” Mark says. “That makes sense. Well this condo should last you for years to come, Trey, whether it’s a bachelor pad or your first home with a wife and kid.”
“Condo?” my father asks.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Martin says. “They just started dating.”
“Just… as an example, sir,” the manager says, attempting to ease her father’s fears. “Now… I think this penthouse is meant to be yours. I mean, what are the chances that it just went back on the market last night?”
“The penthouse, Jackson?” Dad asks. “This isn’t a rental?”
“No, sir. This unit is for sale. It’s the best unit in the building. On the block, really.”
“Did you know this?”
“Yeah, Dad. I want to look at it. I want you to look at it.”
“A twenty-one-hundred square-foot penthouse. Huh,” he says. “New building. Park view. What are we talking, four-and-a-half mil?”
“You’re forgetting the thirteen-hundred square-foot terrace,” Mark adds as we ride up the elevator.
“That alone is bigger than your current apartment,” my father reminds me.
“Oh, I know. It’ll last me for years to come, though.”
“So upwards of six million. Am I close?”
“You’re good, Mr. Holland. Five-nine.”
Dad glares at me as we exit the lift directly into the penthouse. “Oh, wow,” he says, immediately distracted by the glass doors that lead to the patio. “This is all private?”
“Yes, sir. Feel free to explore.”
Both of our fathers head outside while Coley and I investigate the rest of the condo. “There’s so much light. And the ceilings are so high,” she says while we stand in the living room. “I love it. Do you like it?”
“Yeah. I mean, look at the floor. And there’s a fireplace?”
“Gas,” Mark says.
“Okay.”
“The windows slide into the wall like so,” he says, demonstrating for me.
“That’s awesome,” I say, smiling as I look at the southern view.
“The kitchen is great,” he says. “Stone countertops and incredible wood cabinets. A gas stove. Plenty of space. Do you cook?”
“Sometimes,” I tell him. “I would more in a place like this.”
“This area’s great for a dining room, or if you don’t need that, maybe a little home office. You could put a desk or two in here, but I can’t promise you’d get much homework done with these views.”
“I want a desk here,” Coley says, marching up to a window and planting herself in front of it. “I promise I’ll write my articles, boss. They’ll be the best articles you’ve ever read.”
“You want a desk, huh?” I ask her.
“Wouldn’t you love to work in here?”
“I would,” I admit. “I would love to have two desks by the windows. And maybe a small pub table right here where we can edit?”
“I love that idea. Dark wood.”
“Whatever,” I say. “Just give me a hard surface and two seats.”
Mark continues the tour, taking us into the smaller bathrooms and past the two standard bedrooms. A long hallway leads us to the master bedroom. The bathroom is great; there’s a ton of closet space, the living area is huge, but the best part is the view. Nearly the entire far wall is glass that opens up onto the covered terrace. At the moment, our dads are leaning against the railing, talking about something.
Sheer curtains are already built in and are pushed to the sides of the room.
“I’m in love,” Coley says.
“This is crazy,” I tell her. “And perfect. And a little crazy.” I open the door to the patio, letting her go outside first.
“No way.”
“This would all be mine?” I ask Mark. “This entire patio?” I look around at the vast expanse of outdoor space in awe.
“All yours.”
“The view is perfect. No prying eyes.” There are no tall buildings around. In fact, the closest one is my old apartment, which I can see from the edge of the terrace, across the park. “Dad, go look inside,” I instruct him.
“Tell me what you think,” he says.
“I think it’s perfect. There’s plenty of room for guests. Hell, Max could even live here over the summer, if he wanted, with that third bedroom.” I know he always feels so far from the rest of us when he comes home since his mom is in Queens, but this would be a good solution if he ever wanted to stay in Manhattan until he gets a place of his own–if he decides to move back after college. “And the view, well, it’s even better than my view now. I can see the entire island. Jon can help me figure something out with all this terrace space.”
He walks inside, and I follow him as he barely looks at the condo. We end up in the living space. “You’ll need all new furniture. Everything you have is too small for this apartment.”
“It’s fine for now,” I tell him, shrugging my shoulders.
He shakes his head. “This is home to you? This feels like home?”
“It does.”
“Let’s get the paperwork going, then,” he says to Mark.
“Do you like it?” I ask him.
“You don’t need my permission. You just need my money,” he says with a smile.
“But I want to know if you think it’s a bad investment.”
“I wouldn’t let you make a bad investment, Jackson. I’m envious of the terrace alone. You could get a tent and camp out some nights. I bet your nieces would love that. Jon and Livvy’s rooftop doesn’t have the view this place does.”
I start thinking about all the possibilities. Coley and her father come inside through the living room doorway and join us.
“Why don’t you let Aunt Anna and Livvy get you set up with furniture and decorations? Your mom would love to help, too. I think they were all planning a day of shopping tomorrow, anyway. We can donate your current things to one of the charities.”
“Can we keep the couch for Max?”
“We can store it in Livvy’s warehouse.”
“So, you’re getting it?” Coley asks.
“I am, I guess.”
“This is amazing. Just… amazing.”
“If you’d like to follow me down, we can get started on all the paperwork,” Mark tells us, guiding us into one of the elevators.
“What colors do you like?” I ask my girlfriend as we step inside.
“What?”
“Like, if you were decorating. I hope you’ll be spending a lot of time here. What colors?”
“Natural colors. Colors of the sea. Corals, blues, tans, maybe some pale yellow.”
“Sounds perfect. Dad, can you
let Anna know?”
“I will. Martin, why don’t you drive them back to Trey’s apartment while I take care of things here?”
“I have homework,” Coley says.
“Me, too. And packing, apparently.” Martin goes outside to start the car.
“Just get things organized,” Dad tells me. “We can hire some people to come in to help. We’ll get you out of there as soon as possible.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I give him a hug. “You’ll walk back?” I ask him.
“I’ll just get a car home. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“It’s move-in ready, Trey, so the place will be yours when the papers are signed.”
“Thanks, Mark. It was nice to meet you.”
“I look forward to you moving in!”
There is still a mob of people surrounding the entrance to my building when we pull up. Here, it’s impossible to blend in. Even with a hood on, a 6’4” guy with my build can’t sneak by anyone.
“How are we going to do this?” I ask. My only objective is getting Coley into the apartment safely.
Her dad turns off the engine and pockets his keys. “I’m walking my daughter in,” Martin tells the valet. “We’ll go first and hope no one recognizes her.” He opens the back door and helps her out, attempting to shield her, but the crowd goes crazy.
“It’s her!”
“That’s the girl!”
“Coley!”
“He’s still with her?”
“I think Trey’s in the car, too!”
“Surely it was a fling.”
“She could be a stripper.”
Suddenly, I can’t see her anymore because people are peering into the tinted windows. I decide to fight the crowd myself and get this over with. I can barely get out of the car. I have to push the door against people to open it. People are touching me and screaming, and someone pulls the hood off of my head, causing a flurry of flashbulbs. I endure the madness, weaving in between curious reporters and rude paparazzi until I get inside. I thought it would be better in there.
“Seriously, Jerry?” I say angrily, looking at the concierge. I normally don’t allow my temper to get the best of me, but I can’t believe the entire lobby is packed with people. “This has to be against fire code or something!”
