by Liz Fenton
• • •
“Where is he? He said 11:45 and it’s 11:57!” Gabriela hissed as she, Jessie, and Claire stood in Jessie’s darkened bedroom, Jessie insisting that they not turn the lights on, terrified that Grant was going to find her. After the show, Claire had grabbed her hand and yanked her from the crowd, dragging her up the stairs as Gabriela trailed behind them. Jessie had paused outside of Lucas’ bedroom, holding up a finger before tiptoeing in and kissing him softly, not sure if it was the last time she’d kiss his sweet baby face. Earlier, she’d drawn the twins in for a tight hug, both of them wriggling out of her arms and exclaiming, “Mom!” in unison.
“I’m right here,” a voice came from the shadows of the bathroom, and they all jumped.
“Jesus!” Gabriela said as Blair appeared in front of them. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”
“It’s a pleasure to see you too, Gabriela,” Blair said, the moonlight showcasing his smug smile. “Good year?”
“Oh shut up. You know exactly how not good this year has been.”
“I’m sorry,” Blair said calmly.
“Are you?” Gabriela shot back. “Or have you been laughing at us from whatever godforsaken place you come from?”
“Being angry with me isn’t going to change anything, Gabriela. I simply gave you all the opportunity you wanted—another chance at the year you turned forty. What you did with it is on you, not me.”
“What kind of game is this?” Claire asked, her voice low but filled with emotion. “Do you get off on fucking with people’s lives?”
Blair ignored Claire’s question. “Ladies, you now only have three minutes to decide if you are staying or going.”
“What if we don’t know?” Jessie squeaked. “What happens if we can’t decide?”
“It’s a very difficult choice to make. That’s why your heart will make it for you.”
“What do you mean?” Claire blurted as her hands started to shake.
“As humans we often let our egos rule our decisions. We let fear stop us from reaching our true potential. We forget about love. But the heart? It never forgets. No matter what happens, no matter how hard things get, it always remembers.”
“Wait, so we aren’t going to tell you what we want to do?” Gabriela whispered. “I don’t understand. I’ve been stressing this whole time and I don’t even get a vote?”
Blair reached through the darkness and took her hand. “You are going to tell me, but not with words. In just one minute, you are each going to close your eyes and let your heart answer the question. Trust me, Gabriela, it will be the right one.”
“How can you know that? What if it’s not?” Jessie cried.
“If you learn one lesson from this, Jessie, I hope it’s that your heart is pure and true. Trust it, and trust yourself.” Blair glanced through the window at the glowing moon, the threat of an impending storm having disappeared. “It’s time, ladies.”
Gabriela reached for her friends’ hands and gripped them tightly, willing her heart to make the choices her mind could not. Tears streamed down Jessie’s face as Blair’s words sunk in and she realized how little she trusted herself anymore, and Claire exhaled and thought of her mother, and what she had asked her to do on her deathbed.
“And so it is.” Blair’s voice threaded through their minds like a heavenly song, calm and beautiful and hopeful all at the same time. It was the last thing they heard before everything went dark.
EPILOGUE
* * *
Nine years later
Gabriela’s feet burned as she flew across the white Cabo San Lucas sand, each touch scorching her a tiny bit before she lifted one foot up and pounded the other down, the heat providing the perfect balance of pleasure and pain as she propelled herself toward the casita. She reached the open glass French doors and put her hands on her thighs, breathing hard, but smiling widely. Running hard always made her feel alive.
“You still got it, girl!” a voice rang out, and Gabriela turned to see Claire watching her through oversized sunglasses from a blue-and-white-striped chaise longue next to a private pool, where they’d drunk too many margaritas the night before, laughing and telling stories until long after the sun had set.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Gabriela dipped her foot in the cold pool and kicked water at Claire. “And happy birthday, by the way.”
“Thanks, I’m really feeling my age after last night,” Claire moaned. “I can’t believe you went for a run! It’s already so hot, how can you do it barefoot?”
Gabriela lowered herself down and dangled her feet in the infinity pool. “There’s something about the heat that makes me run faster.”
“Even after all those shots we did?” Claire shook her head. “I could barely get myself from the bed to this chair! Is that how you stay in such amazing shape? Running even when you’re hungover?”
Gabriela shrugged. “How can I resist that glorious beach when it’s just ten feet away? Plus, I feel pretty good, considering.”
“You look pretty damn good too,” Colin called from the other side of the pool. “Get over here, woman!”
“I’m all sweaty!” Gabriela laughed.
“Just the way I like you.” A sly grin spread across Colin’s face.
“Gross!” Claire lifted her magazine to block them.
Gabriela perched on the end of Colin’s chair. “I can’t believe we’re all fifty,” she said, then muttered, “again,” thinking about how they’d let their hearts decide their fate that night nine years ago today.
Gabriela had awakened with a start the morning after the party. She’d shot up in bed, frantically searching her surroundings to understand where she had ended up—where her heart had decided she should be. She had felt both elated and terrified as she walked into her half-empty living room. They had stayed.
Gabriela’s iPhone pinged on the ceramic table. It was a message from Angelina, her agent. She was ready to send over the contract for the three-book deal Gabriela had just been offered by her publisher.
“Who’s looking for you all the way down here in Mexico?” Colin asked as he applied sunscreen to his already reddened face.
“You should grab a hat, my fair-skinned Brit!” Gabriela tossed her wide-brimmed straw hat at him. “It’s Angelina. She’s going to email the contract for me to sign today.”
Colin grabbed her hand and kissed it. “I’m proud of you.”
“Me too,” Gabriela said, more to herself than to him.
Nine years ago, the morning after the party, Sheila had called her, breathless, having finished Gabriela’s manuscript in one sitting. Gabriela was shocked, never expecting anyone to read it, sure she was going to end up back in her old life, not still living the one she’d restarted. She had pounded out a memoir about how she lost herself so completely in the race to get pregnant. It was raw and honest (save for the part about how she’d time traveled), Gabriela not holding back even the slightest about what her quest for a baby had done to her psyche and her marriage, not to mention her body. When Will My Baby Find Me? had spent twenty weeks on the New York Times bestseller list the following year. It wasn’t the fictional story Gabriela had originally written the first time she’d been forty, but that was okay. She wasn’t that person anymore.
Her follow-up memoir focused on her reconciliation with Colin and the foundation they began together, one that provided support, both mental and financial, to those trying to become parents. In vitro, adoption, fostering, it didn’t matter. Their goal was to help other families get through the process without imploding, the way Gabriela and Colin almost had.
After many sleepless nights and arguments, they finally agreed not to adopt or foster a child, instead deciding they’d much rather throw their energy into helping others find their baby instead of risking their still-fragile marriage all over again. It was hard to explain, but helping others not have to go through the pain they did was enough. And as much as she had loved the virtual friends she’d met on t
he message boards while she was trying to conceive, she wished she’d had more of a personal connection. That’s what their foundation aimed to be.
Gabriela leaned in and gave Colin a quick, salty kiss as she looked out over the Pacific Ocean. It hadn’t happened overnight, in fact it had taken years, but they had finally worked themselves back to a happy place—in some ways even happier than they’d been before. Their relationship now had some scar tissue—but in Gabriela’s eyes, it only made them stronger.
“You guys kept me up with all your partying last night!” Emily said as she walked out from the house, with an arm full of textbooks, her long blond hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. “Aren’t the twins and I supposed to be the ones boozing it up, not the fifty-year-olds?”
Claire reached out and swatted Emily’s leg with her magazine. “It’s not our fault you’re the one acting like an old lady!” she teased, grinning wildly and eyeing her books. “Always studying—even on this trip!”
• • •
Claire had woken up that morning nine years ago tangled in Mason’s arms. We have a second chance, she thought as tears slid silently down her face. She had jumped out of bed quickly and jogged down the hall to Emily’s bedroom, creaking the door open and watching her sleep peacefully for a few minutes before shaking her awake gently. “Hey,” she said when Emily’s eyes opened.
“Hey,” Emily repeated, propping herself up on her arm.
“I’m sorry about last night. I was wrong to keep those letters from you. And even when I sent your response, there was a huge part of me that didn’t want him to respond. I didn’t want to share you.”
Emily’s eyes welled up with tears. “I just want to have a dad, like everyone else,” she said, the last words barely a whisper.
Claire fought back her own tears as she thought about her relationship with her own dad, unable to imagine a life without him, especially now that her mom was gone. “I know that now. I thought I was protecting you. But I think I was trying to protect myself even more. And I’m sorry for that. It was selfish.”
Emily smiled. “So I’m not in trouble for going behind your back?”
Claire laughed. “In this case, I think it’s understandable. And I promise we’ll work out something with your dad, so you can start spending time with him. Okay?”
“Okay,” Emily had said before lying down and closing her eyes again, Claire playing with her hair until she fell back asleep, then crawling back into her own bed and inserting herself back into Mason’s strong arms, where she knew she belonged.
David had stayed true to his promise to be an active part of Emily’s life. Claire had met with him a few days after the party and laid out her conditions. He couldn’t be a fair-weather father, he had to promise to be a participant in her life and let her be one in his. Claire had brought photos of Emily from over the years and filled David in on all she could about her childhood. As David studied the school pictures, Claire could see the regret in his eyes over all the time he’d missed, then he’d looked at Claire and vowed not to leave again, revealing he had remarried last year and couldn’t wait for Emily to become a part of their family too. He and his wife lived two hours south, but David drove up every other weekend, and he and Emily and sometimes Claire and David’s wife, Gretchen, began to slowly get to know each other. Claire liked Gretchen immediately, and couldn’t help but wonder if she was the influence David had needed.
Claire still couldn’t believe the contrast between this Emily and the one from her former life—this version of her daughter had just graduated from UCLA and was studying to take the GRE in preparation for her grad school applications. This Emily was kind and selfless at times—and Claire knew that a big part of the change had been David’s presence in her life. And Mason’s—he’d accepted David unconditionally from day one and also proved to be an important role model in Emily’s life.
Emily had stood by Mason’s side the night he proposed to Claire. Claire had looked to Emily, who had nodded her head vigorously before Claire whispered yes and said a silent thank-you to Blair Wainright, wherever the hell he was.
• • •
“Where’s Jessie?” Claire asked, looking toward the house.
“She woke up early and went into town with Lucas and the girls,” Mason said as he walked up.
“More shopping?” Claire laughed, thinking back to the orange-and-brown-striped poncho she’d bought Lucas earlier in the week, and the confused look on his face when she’d given it to him.
“Grant went with her—for damage control. He said they were already going to need another suitcase just to cart home all her trinkets.”
Claire laughed and caught Gabriela’s eye, both of them knowing her road had been the hardest.
Jessie had forced her eyes open the morning after the party, not sure which reality she was waking up in, not sure which reality she wanted to wake up in. She rolled over to find Grant awake, staring at her, his lips pursed in thought. Her chest soared and then dropped with a thud to the floor. Grant was still hers, but it wasn’t worth keeping him if it meant she had to continue to lie. It wasn’t fair to Grant, and it wasn’t fair to Peter, and it definitely wasn’t fair to Lucas or her girls. So she ran her hand along the profile of his face and began to tell her story, not surprised at all that her heart broke into a million pieces all over again just like it had the first time she’d broken his.
Before, when Jessie had confessed to Grant, she’d become a shell of herself, thinking she didn’t have a right to fight for him, for her marriage, for her family.
This time, Jessie fought. She made him talk to her, even if she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Instead of crying endlessly and telling Grant she loved him, she showed him—she stopped by his job site on the hottest day of the year with a cooler of Gatorade for him and his crew. She re-created their first date on their anniversary, right down to the dress she wore, which she had miraculously kept and did a three-day juice cleanse that nearly killed her to fit into it. She challenged him to stay. Yes, for the girls and Lucas. But for her too—reminding him that they had both given up a bit on their marriage. Grant may not have cheated, but he’d let Jessie believe she wasn’t important anymore. So she asked him not to let the biggest mistake of her life define her, or define them.
The initial shock of her betrayal hit him the same way it had last time. He grabbed the same duffel bag and haphazardly moved out. They even legally separated and lived apart for almost a year and a half. Even though they were in therapy once a week at Jessie’s insistence, there were times she was sure they’d never reconcile. It was messy and complicated and sometimes even ugly. She’d often jog to her car after and simply rest her head on the steering wheel until she felt strong enough to go home to her kids. Then Grant had met Janet, all over again, just as he had before, in a coffee shop. Only it was much, much sooner. When he’d told Jessie maybe they should start dating other people, her heart folded in half and she’d panicked—was this it? Would Grant meeting his future wife ruin any chance he had at reconciling with his current one? She wasn’t about to find out. She’d shown up at his apartment late one night.
“I don’t want to live in limbo anymore. Either forgive me and we try to move on, or file for divorce. I can’t take back what I did. But I can spend the rest of my life showing you that you can trust me.”
Grant raked his hands through his hair. “I want to believe you, Jess, I really do. Why do you think I haven’t filed already? We built a life together and I don’t want to throw it away.”
“Then don’t,” Jessie pleaded.
“I think I can forgive you. Maybe I already have . . .” He trailed off.
Jessie’s heart lurched. She’d been waiting to hear Grant say those words for so long but she could feel his hesitation. “But?”
“But,” he repeated slowly, “how can I be sure you won’t do it again?”
“Because I won’t!”
Grant offered her a sad smile. “How can I st
op my mind from wondering every time you go away with the girls or you smile at a dad in Lucas’ class. I can’t live like that.” He shook his head.
Jessie wrapped her jacket tighter around her nightgown. “I get that, Grant. I do. But promising you won’t be enough. You have to let me show you that our marriage will be my priority; that I won’t step outside of it; that I won’t hurt you again. So you either choose to take a leap of faith with me or you don’t. It’s that simple.”
Before he could answer, she took her own leap of faith and did something she hadn’t done in almost two years—she’d kissed him. And to her surprise, he’d kissed her back, both of them realizing they needed that physical connection again more than they could have known. And then he came home. And eventually, he forgave her. The time in between was almost unbearable, but his forgiveness appeared fast and furious, and Jessie exhaled for the first time in what felt like years.
Unfortunately, Peter’s wife didn’t feel the same way. Cathy asked him to move out the day after he confessed. Peter could only afford a sparse condo across town, but he said he felt good knowing his son, Sean, could still live in his home.
Telling the twins that Lucas had another father was almost as heartbreaking as telling Grant, the blind trust they’d always held for their mother shattering in an instant. They were angry, and Jessie couldn’t blame them. They either gave her the silent treatment or said terrible things Jessie prayed they didn’t mean. Jessie would call Claire for advice and she guided her. Don’t let your guilt dictate your choices. Stand strong. You made a mistake, but you’re still their mother. So Jessie had done just that, and eventually they got on the right track, especially after Grant moved back in.
When they felt Lucas was old enough, Jessie, Grant, and Peter told him the truth together with the help of a counselor. And Lucas eventually came to accept that although his situation might be a bit different from his friends’, he had two dads who loved him. Grant, as much as he resented Peter for the betrayal, was grateful for Lucas, and didn’t want to deny Lucas his biological father. Grant and Peter never became friends, but they tolerated each other for Lucas’ sake. And that was more than enough for Jessie.
