by Imani King
The tears came slowly, sliding down my cheeks like gentle rain. I’d been such a fool. I’d trusted him. I’d fallen for him. And he was just another filthy fucking liar. Why? Why did he do it? Why did he pursue me so hard? Was he just looking for a last fling before he settled down with his fiancé, Mona what’s-her-name? Or was he just cruel? Was that how billionaire playboys got their kicks, by breaking the hearts of silly girls like me?
I slammed my laptop shut and buried my face in my pillow. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore, then eventually I drifted off to sleep.
I woke the next morning and found that I wasn’t sad anymore: I was pissed. But there was a finality to my anger. I was ready to close the book on Dylan Corbett – that lying, no good cheater. I ate my breakfast, took a shower, and did all my regular morning activities with a sense of purpose. Yes, I was angry, but it felt good. I just wanted to get on with my life. The preschool party wasn’t until the late afternoon, so I spent the day organizing my closet and madly cleaning the apartment. Still, every once in a while I’d stop what I was doing and I felt like I was seconds away from breaking down in a puddle of heartbroken, miserable tears.
Finally, at four o’clock that afternoon, I powered on my cell phone. Sure enough, there was a text waiting for me from Dylan. Hope the party goes well today, the message said. Can’t wait to see you later. Xoxo.
Xoxo? Oh, please. I typed a simple message to Dylan in response: It’s over. I won’t be seeing you later, and I won’t be taking you up on your offer to fly me to Atlanta. Please, never contact me again.
I hit send on the message, then I closed my heart to Dylan Corbett like a book that I never wanted to read again.
Chapter Twenty
Dylan
It’s over??? Fuck no, it’s not over.
I stared at the text message on my phone in disbelief. What the hell had happened? The last time I saw Maya, she’d told me how glad she was to have met me. She said I’d opened up her heart. We were falling for each other, hard. I mean, fuck, I’d already fallen so hard that I didn’t know which way was up. And I knew Maya felt the same way. I could feel it in her kiss, in the way she held my hand and leaned her body into mine. So what the hell had changed overnight? And how in the hell was I going to fix it?
That night at my cabin was one of the best nights of my life. I had no idea what had sent Maya over the edge, but there was no way in hell I was just going to let her go. No. No way. There was no way I was letting her go.
I called her cell phone half a dozen times, but it just went straight to voicemail every time. I needed to see her, in person. I grabbed the keys to the Ferrari – I needed a fast car, because I didn’t have a moment to spare – and I headed to the garage.
Traffic on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway was a nightmare. I pounded on the dashboard of the Ferrari as I moved along at a snail’s pace, realizing that it probably would’ve been faster just to take a damn bicycle. I tried Maya’s cell a few more times on the way, but no dice. Finally, I made my way into Brooklyn. I double-parked in front of her building and raced up the steps to Maya’s door.
Her roommate Tracy answered the door and gave me an icy look. “Dude, you’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here,” she said.
I didn’t answer her – I just pushed the door open and made my way past her into the living room. “Maya?!” I yelled. I turned back to Tracy. “Is she here?”
“No, she’s not here, and if she was, she wouldn’t want to talk to you. You need to leave, man. Like, right now.” Tracy stood in the open doorway and pointed toward the hallway.
“Not before you tell me what the fuck is going on, Tracy. Why won’t she talk to me? Why is she saying that it’s over between us?”
“Because you’re a fucking dick, man. You promised me you weren’t a dick, and I trusted you. So did Maya. And I told you that if you hurt my friend, I’d fuck you up. I don’t know what I’m gonna do yet, but like I said, I’m crafty. You’re gonna pay for this, Mister Asshole Playboy.” Tracy pointed a stern finger at me. I had no doubt that she’d follow through on her threat. She was crafty, and you’d be an idiot to cross her. But what the fuck did I do?
“Tracy, I don’t understand what’s going on. Why is Maya so angry at me?”
“You don’t understand what Maya has been through. This may be all fun and games to you, but she’s a real woman with real feelings, Dylan. And this isn’t her first rodeo with a lying sack of garbage like you. Did she ever tell you about her ex, Shawn?”
I knew that Maya had been burned in the past, but she had yet to open up to me about it. All I knew was that she’d been hurt, and that it was hard for her to trust. I told Tracy as much, and she explained.
“She thought Shawn was the one,” Tracy said. “We all did. They seemed so great together, and Maya was so happy. Then he started getting secretive about stuff, and Maya thought it was because he was going to propose. But it turned out he was already married.” Tracy let out a long sigh, then shot me a look like I was the devil incarnate. “He had a wife back in Ohio. He’d come to New York, and was staying with a friend until he could find a job and an apartment. I guess the plan was that his wife was going to come once he got everything squared away. And while he was squaring everything away, he met Maya. I guess he figured he’d have a little fun while his wife was in another state. But then Maya found out the truth. And it devastated her.”
“Jesus,” I said. “That’s horrible.”
“Yeah, it’s horrible. And so are you, Mister Big Shot.” Tracy poked her finger hard against my shoulder. “Maya told Shawn’s wife everything, you know. As soon as she found out, she tracked her down and told her everything. So I hope you know that she’s going to do the same to you. She’s going to tell your girl everything. You’re fucked, Dylan. And damn, do you deserve it.”
My girl? What girl? “I still don’t understand what’s going on. I need details, Tracy. Give me details. What did Maya tell you?”
“It’s not what she told me, it’s what she showed me.” Tracy pulled out her cell phone and started tapping, then a moment later she pushed the screen in front of my face. “Explain this, jerk.”
I looked at the photo on the screen, then read the caption underneath, and my stomach dropped. “Oh, fuck,” I mumbled, burying my face in my hands. “Oh, fuck. Tracy, this is not what it seems. Please, let me explain.”
I told Tracy everything. I told her all about Mona, the woman in the picture. I told her why I had lied to Maya about having to work late that night. And I told her I’d do whatever it took to make things right.
“Holy crap,” Tracy said once I was done explaining. “What can I do to help?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Maya
The preschool kids were out of their minds. It always happened during the annual holiday party. They got all jacked up on sugary treats, and having their parents with them in the classroom scrambled their little brains even more. I spent the first hour of the party breaking up little fights – boys pulling girls’ hair, kids fighting over toys, biting each other – and I was completely exhausted. All I wanted to do was go home and get in bed and hopefully sleep through Christmas, sleep until all memories of Dylan Corbett had been wiped from my mind.
The worst part of it, I realized, as I looked around the room at all the children’s faces, was that I’d actually fantasized about having kids with Dylan. His stories about his family, about the child he thought he was going to have with that other woman, had done a number on me. And when I’d seen him laughing and playing in the snow in Pennsylvania, I’d thought about what a great father he’d make. I’d imagined our children, with my dark hair and his green eyes. I’d imagined Christmases together as a family at the cabin in Pennsylvania. I’d imagined a whole life together. But apparently Dylan was going to have that life with some lady named Mona, and I was just a side piece to pass the time. Again.
My co-teacher Beth and I were setting up a craft station for the kids when Dylan stormed
through the door. His green eyes were wild, and it looked like he hadn’t even bothered to brush his hair, and he looked so sexy that for a second I forgot myself. In spite of my new-found knowledge of his lying, cheating ways, my heart started thrumming the way it always did when I saw him. Then I caught myself, shook my head, and shut off my heart. I put on my best stern face and was about to tell him to leave, when I saw who was standing behind him.
There was a man with him who looked familiar, and it took me a moment to realize that it was the photographer who’d taken our picture at the Metropolitan Museum gala. And behind the photographer, I saw her – Mona what’s-her-name, Dylan’s fiancé. I felt my face get hot with anger, and my hands began to shake.
“I don’t know what you’re doing here, Dylan, but you need to leave right now,” I said, trying to make my voice calm so as not to upset the children.
“No,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out, Maya. Call the fuc—” He almost cursed, then looked at the kids, who were busy at the craft table in the corner, and slapped his hand over his mouth. Then he continued. “Call the police if you want, but I’m not leaving. I mean it. You’re going to hear what I have to say.”
I shot my co-teacher Beth a look, and she shrugged. “Ok, fine. You have two minutes. Then you have to leave.”
Dylan exhaled loudly, then turned to the woman he’d brought with him, his supposed fiancé, Mona. He grabbed her arm and nodded at her. “Tell her,” he said.
Mona rolled her eyes, then spoke. “I don’t care what’s going on with you two,” she said. She sounded like a valley girl on crack. “I’m only here because Dylan said that if I came and explained all this to you that he’d make a donation to my mom’s nonprofit. So here’s the deal, lady. Dylan and are not engaged. We were, for a hot minute, a while ago. I thought he got me pregnant. But thank God that wasn’t true, because the last thing I want right now is a baby, or a husband. So whatever you think is going on with me and Dylan, it’s not true.” She turned to Dylan and rolled her eyes again. “Can I go now?”
“In just a minute,” Dylan said. Then he turned to the photographer. “Jimmy, tell her.”
The photographer cleared his throat and spoke, his voice quivering with nervousness. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I took Mr. Corbett’s picture with Miss Gates the other night. I knew they were engaged a while back, so I just assumed that they still were. So when I uploaded the pictures to the website, I, uh, I just put that she was his fiancé. Which was a mistake. A big mistake. It’s all my fault, and I’m really sorry.”
I looked at the three of them, my head swimming with new information. “So she’s not your fiancé?” Dylan and Mona and Jimmy the photographer all vehemently shook their heads. “But why did you lie to me, Dylan? You said that night that you had to work late in your office. But you were with her, at an art gallery opening.” I pointed again to Mona, and she rolled her eyes again. It seemed that that was pretty much all she was capable of doing.
“I think I can answer that,” came a familiar voice behind me. I whipped my head around and was surprised to see my best friend Tracy, standing in the doorway. And I was even more surprised to see who she was with: Elena Reid, the artist I loved so much, the artist whose painting Dylan had bought me in the silent auction. The sight of my favorite artist standing in the doorway of my preschool sent my heart fluttering all over again, and I was so confused I felt like I was drunk. What was Tracy doing with Elena Reid? And what did this have to do with Dylan’s lies?
“Tracy? What the...?” I didn’t know which way was up and which way was down.
“I know how much you love Elena’s work,” Dylan said, moving his way across the room to stand next to her. “And I wanted to do something special for you. As a gift. A Christmas gift. So I told a little lie. I told you that I had to work, but really I was making a deal with Elena here. I met her that night, at the art gallery opening, so I could commission a painting from her.”
I hadn’t noticed that Elena Reid was holding a package in her hands, until she started to unwrap it. She began to peel the brown paper back, and I glimpsed my face painted in watercolor. Once the package was completely unwrapped, Elena Reid held the painting in front of her, and I saw a gorgeous painting of me and Dylan, obviously modeled from the photograph of us at the Metropolitan gala, the night we first met. There I was, smiling and happy, with Dylan next to me, looking upon me adoringly. The painting was so painfully beautiful that it took my breath away.
“I ran into Mona while I was talking to Elena about the painting,” Dylan said. “And Jimmy took our picture. I didn’t even see him do it.”
“And I just assumed that Mona was still his fiancé,” Jimmy interjected. “Which was really stupid of me, Ma’am. I’m really sorry about that.”
“And I’m not his fiancé,” Mona added. Then she turned to Dylan. “I assume this is all you need from me, so I’ll be going now.” She left the room without waiting for an answer.
“So you see, Maya?” Dylan’s eyes pleaded with me. “It was all just a big misunderstanding. I’m sorry I lied, but I only lied because I wanted to get you this painting. Because I knew how much you’d love it.”
I looked at Tracy, who’d been watching this whole thing play out. “It’s true,” she told me. “Maya, give him a chance. I know he lied, but it was a white lie, and he meant well. He’s not like...” She paused, and shook her head. “He’s not like Shawn. You can trust him. He’s the real deal, Maya. I swear. You know I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
I turned back to Dylan, and his eyes cut me like a knife. His face was pleading, desperate, and I wanted to believe him. I’d been hurt before, and trust came hard, but when I looked into his eyes there was nothing I wanted more than for every word of this crazy story to be true. “So this was all...” I hesitated, not sure what to say.
“This was all for you,” Dylan said. I started to speak, but he hushed me. “I know this isn’t the right time to say this. I know we’re in a room surrounded by four year olds.” He gestured behind him, to the kids, who were sitting at the table eating apple slices. Most of them were completely unconcerned with our grown-up drama, but a few seemed to be hanging on Dylan’s every word, staring at him with their mouths open wide.
“Dylan, I—” I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to say. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. It was all so overwhelming. I looked to Tracy, standing in the corner next to Elena Reid with her painting of me and Dylan. I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“This was all because I love you, Maya,” Dylan said. Hearing him say those words made my heart go into overdrive. I felt my face get hot, and my hands began to tremble. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I’ve never loved anyone, period. Every woman before you has been boring, meaningless. And I don’t want that. I want you, Maya. Do you remember what you told me that first night we met?”
I shook my head and stuttered out a few syllables. Dylan continued.
“You told me why you loved Elena Reid’s paintings. You said that we get caught up in regular day-to-day things, and we forget how wondrous the world can be. And that’s how I feel about you, Maya. You make me realize how wondrous the world can be. And I know you say that we’re from different worlds, but I want to be a part of whatever world you’re in. And I know we haven’t known each other long, but I’ve known you long enough to know that I want you for the rest of my life. I want you, and nothing but you, until the day I die.” He moved closer to me, then kneeled down in front of my feet and pulled something out of his coat pocket. I heard Tracy gasp behind me.
“I was going to give you that painting on Christmas Eve. And I was going to give you this, too.” He offered up a ring to me with a giant sparkling diamond. “Maya, this is my grandmother’s ring. I never thought I’d have any use for it. Not until I met you. But now I know, as sure as I know anything, that I want to give you this ring. And I want to see you with this ring on every day of my life. I want you to
be mine. Marry me, Maya. Please. I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“So this was... this was all because of that painting?” I finally found my words.
“Yes,” Dylan said.
“And that woman? Mona?”
“She means nothing to me. It’s only you, Maya. Do you believe me?” Dylan pleaded with me with his eyes, and as I looked at him, I knew that he was telling the truth. The man I thought I knew was real, and he was kneeling in front of me. Proposing.
“I believe you,” I told him.
“So what do you say? Will you marry me?” He extended the ring closer to me, and I looked down upon it. It was beautiful, simple, classic. Then I looked past the ring and into Dylan’s green eyes.
“Oh my God, say yes already, Maya!” Tracy screamed.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I felt a hot flush rush over my body. But I wasn’t nervous, and I wasn’t scared. I was happy. I looked at Dylan, kneeling in front of me, and there was only one word I could say:
