I shut my eyes tight.
“Okay.” Fuck. “Okay, Holly.”
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
And I start to reply—to say goodbye, somehow. But the line goes dead. She’s gone.
What else can I do?
I have to let her go.
—
I sit very still by the kitchen window for a long time. Staring at the flickering shadows the midday light casts on the wall.
It was too good to last, I knew that. I knew, and still I’m not ready. I thought we’d have more time.
And yesterday, lying in Holly’s arms, I had started to think we might actually have a chance in the long term. That there was something between us that could survive whatever tests might come our way.
Maybe we could have survived something else. But not this. Not anything involving Drew. That is a line in the sand she could never cross—that I would never want her to cross.
I should have told her about Chad Winters. I should have known he would be looking for Holly and me together. He was digging for information that night he came to my apartment, and if he was bold enough to follow me to the cemetery, of course he wouldn’t rest until he found proof that Holly and I are…what?
What are we, even? Or what were we?
I never had a chance to find out.
All I know is that losing her, saying goodbye—it’s like being gut-shot.
I don’t know what it must have felt like for her to open the paper and see Drew there. Her son, right in front of his school, exposed to every print and online reader in the county. A target for any criminal who wanted to get his hands on Holly’s money.
It’s not her fault that a reporter went after us, that he wouldn’t give up until he had the story he wanted. But of course she would blame herself. And of course her asshole ex-husband would bludgeon her with that blame.
It seems pretty clear to me that the reason Brett will never forgive her is that he still loves her. I don’t think Holly sees it that way. She believes he hates her, and for good reason. But hate and love are mixed for people sometimes. And the deeper they’re mixed, the stronger and more toxic they become.
Brett won’t ever stop trying to punish her. And if he has to use Drew as a weapon to do it, so be it.
I want to tell Holly to fight back, to tell him to fuck off. But I’m not the one who’s had to deal with him all these years. And if he can legitimately threaten to withhold her son from her, of course she has to be cautious.
I hate it that she has to cower in front of him, that she doesn’t have the freedom to stand up for herself without potentially compromising her relationship with Drew. How is she supposed to feel strong, to feel free of Brett, if she always has to placate him? She’s trapped.
I could have made her happy, I think. That’s the part, most of all, that kills me. I could have supported her, been a friend to her.
I could have loved her.
Fuck it, I do love her.
I love her, and it’s too late to do anything about it. Our chance came, and now it’s gone. And that’s just how luck fucking works.
I should be celebrating right now. I’m about to receive more money than anyone could reasonably spend in a lifetime. I should be planning a party in Vegas or pricing a mega-mansion or something. The money could be here any day.
It could be here today, in fact.
I grab my phone, because I might as well, and check my bank account online.
Deposit, six o’clock this morning. Eighty-plus million dollars.
God above.
Despite everything, a half-sick thrill is still capable of spiking through me.
I might be a sad sack at the moment, but even so, this is actually happening. I can move from this tiny apartment if I want. I can pay for my nieces’ college tuition.
I can buy a new car.
Like, right now. Immediately. In cash.
I stand up from the chair.
Holly is knee-deep in the weeds, and there’s nothing I can do to help her. Maybe one day, when no one knows or cares who we are, and all of this has blown over, we can try again. But that’s not going to happen right now. And if I sit here all day stressing over whether it will ever happen, I’ll go crazy.
What I need is a distraction. I need to stop being so precious and just go ahead and do what any other red-blooded American would do if they won the lottery.
I leave my goddamn apartment and go shopping.
—
I hit the American Girl doll store in Times Square first. Then I head out to Long Island, stopping at Tony’s favorite bakery on the way. It doesn’t take long to find parking outside the Ferrari dealership Tony and I have been stalking since we were kids. I buy a Maserati convertible and drive it right off the lot to Tony’s house.
When the girls come to the door, I hold out their dolls and they jump up and down and hug my legs like a pair of deranged kittens. Then they run to their room, chattering wildly about how they have to do the dolls’ hair and teach them how to drive a forklift.
Tony holds the front door open and accepts a giant box of cannoli. “Nice ride. Guess the money came through.”
“It did, yeah.”
He claps an arm around my shoulder. “Congratulations, man. Truly. How you feeling? You good? You happy? You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
“Seriously, though.” Tony opens the box and spends a full minute selecting the best cannoli.
I leave him standing in the open doorway and sit down on the front steps.
The house is a detached Colonial with families packed in close on both sides. Tony’s lived here for eight years almost. Bought the house with his ex-wife before the girls were born. Now that she’s moved to Brooklyn with her new boyfriend, it’s just him and the girls out here, but they’re surrounded by neighbors. By people who know them and look out for them. After the divorce, Tony’s freezer was packed with casseroles.
There are worse ways to live.
“You like the car?” I ask him.
He licks cream off his fingers, lets the screen door slam shut behind him, and sits down next to me. “You know I do. That’s the one we looked at last time we went down to the beach, remember? What’re you trying to do, rub it in?”
“Nope.” I grab a cannoli out of the box and bite into it. “I’m trying to ask if you like your new car.”
Tony just stares at me, mid-chew. “What’s that now?”
I reach into my coat pocket and hand him the keys. “Your new car, dumbass. Go give it a spin. I’ll watch the kids.” I take another bite of cannoli.
Tony’s grin is the sincerest I’ve seen on him since Alexa left, and that alone is worth the fat stack I just laid down for his car. Not that it matters. It’s barely a drop in the bucket.
“When you come back, I need to talk to you about what I’m going to do with all this cash.”
He grabs my whole head in the crook of his elbow and rubs his knuckles, and probably a glob of cannoli filling, into my hair. “Whatever you say, little brother. If this is what you have in mind, I got no problem helping you spend your money.”
I shake him off and shove him toward the driveway. “I’d like to actually do some good in the world, you know.”
He rolls his eyes, backing toward the car. “You would.” Then he turns and runs his hands over the black exterior. “Hey, Ray?”
“Yeah.”
He looks into my eyes. “Thank you.”
“You got it, man. Now go.” I wave him off, and watch him peal out of the driveway.
Behind me, through the screen door, I hear Ana and Sofia running around the house. “You need to tie her cape tighter, Sofia, it’s falling off!”
Their voices make me wonder what Holly was like as a little girl. Spirited, like they are, I’m guessing. Funny.
I have to stop this. I know that. Thinking about her every minute.
Craving her.
Even if it were possible for us to be toget
her, it’s not right for me to need her so much, so soon. It would be too much pressure on anyone, let alone someone who already has a child to look after.
It doesn’t matter anyway, though—what I need or don’t need. She’s made her choice, and I don’t blame her. Drew comes first. I would never try to argue with that.
“Tío, come inside! Daddy says if you keep the door open you let all the warm air out.”
I turn and smile at Sofia, at her chubby legs in their rainbow tutu. I don’t bother to tell her it’s spring now, and the air outside is probably warmer than it is inside. “Okay, querida, I’m coming.” I stand and head into the house. “What are we playing?”
“First you have to tell us the names of our dolls.”
Sofia and Ana stand gravely in front of me. Both of their dolls are wearing paper towels as capes, secured around their necks with rubber bands. I check their labels.
“Josefina, and…Marisol.”
The girls grin.
“Cool!” Ana says, and takes my hand. “Okay, now we have to tie you to a chair.”
“What?”
“You’ve been kidnapped!”
“Yeah,” says Sofia. “Josepeen and Mariskull is rescuing you.”
I sit down on a kitchen chair and let myself be tied up with tiny flannel bathrobe belts until Tony returns home.
—
“That’s rough, Ray. Really. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.”
Tony stands on his patio, flipping burgers and hot dogs on a gas grill. Inside, the girls are watching Wild Kratts in their pajamas, hair still wet from their baths.
“And you haven’t heard from her today?”
I shake my head. “Wasn’t expecting to. This is it, I think. I mean, what is she supposed to do? Risk being seen with me again? I’ve gotten calls from a dozen different news places since yesterday, asking for an interview. Not just with me anymore. With both of us. Together.”
“Shit.”
“One of them was People fucking magazine, Tony. The Today show. I mean, come on. The only thing she can possibly do is try to let it die down.”
Tony pushes the hot dogs around with a spatula. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I figure you should know. It was on ‘In the Papers’ this morning, on NY1. A little story in the Daily News, I think. They showed that picture of you and her. Pat Kiernan got a real kick out of it.”
I lean forward onto my knees. “Christ.”
“It’s a human interest stor—”
“For fuck’s sake, Tony. Don’t say it.”
He holds up both hands. “Sorry. You’re sick of hearing it. But it is. I mean, two people pushing a rock uphill at Cogmans—they meet, buy a ticket, win the lottery, fall in lo—”
“Don’t say that either.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Right. Whatever you say, man.”
I tilt my chin toward the kids inside. “They’ll sleep well tonight, I’m guessing.”
“Way to change the subject.” Tony raises his Corona in my direction. “After you chased them up and down the block on their scooters? Yeah. Between that and having to put their new dolls to bed, I doubt they’ll have trouble.”
“They’ve made little coffins for the dolls, you know. Out of shoeboxes. They lined them with black paper.”
Tony laughs. “They’re vampires, you know. They need to rest in eternal darkness.”
I gaze out at the sun setting its violent New York City purple. “Aren’t they burning in the bright light?”
“Don’t you know anything? Ana put them under a fairy spell so the light won’t kill them.”
“But they still need to sleep in coffins.” I push the wedge of lime deeper into my bottle.
“Life is a mystery. Hand me that zucchini, will you?”
“Look at you with the roasted vegetables.”
Tony eyes me. “You’re not the only one who can cook, you know. Speaking of which, what’s the story with the Culinary? That still on the agenda now that you’re Daddy Warbucks?”
I take a swig of my beer. “Maybe?”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, Tony.”
He looks at me seriously. “You having second thoughts?”
“I don’t know,” I say again. “Look, I just can’t see…I mean, the chef track? The type of cooking you have to do for that clientele? I’ve been at Delmonico’s for two months now, and you want to know the truth?”
“Please.”
“I hate it.”
Tony smiles.
“What’s that for? Why are you smiling?”
“I was wondering when you were gonna figure that out.”
I stare at him placidly turning the burgers over. “What?”
“Come on, Ray.” He shovels the burgers onto buns on a nearby plate. “It’s never what you wanted.”
I feel hot and cold all over suddenly. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s what Mom wanted, que descanse en paz. And I get it, you wanted to do right by her. But she wouldn’t want you to be miserable, man. She would have seen how much you hated it if you’d ever actually gotten started.”
“Tony.”
“But you dragged your feet, and good for you. You put it off. Why did you think that was? You don’t put shit off that you actually want to do.”
I stand and face him at the grill. “You didn’t feel like mentioning this to me at any point?”
“Why bother?” Tony shrugs and slides the hot dogs into buns with a pair of barbecue tongs. “You wouldn’t have listened to me.”
I make a face. “Why not?”
“Come on.” He punches me lightly on the shoulder, and heads inside with the plate. “Who listens to their big brother? No, man, you came to this yourself, and that’s better.”
I stand in the patio doorway, arms folded, and watch him lay out the plates on the table. “Well, what am I supposed to do now?”
He pauses, napkins in hand. “Brother, you’re a multimillionaire. You can do whatever the fuck you want.”
“No I can’t. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Sorry, but yeah it does. Get some glasses, will you?”
I go to the kitchen for glasses and when I return, the girls are sitting in booster seats, dunking their hot dogs in pools of ketchup, arguing quietly about whether a queen bee is nice or mean.
Tony passes me the plate of burgers. “What about that idea you were floating last time, to do that garden-restaurant thing?”
“That was with Holly.” I take two burgers, and then grab the pickles and onions.
“¿Y qué?” Tony says around a mouthful of food.
“So, I’m not doing it.”
He scoops some guacamole out of a bowl with a chip and points it at me. “Estas pero si bien pendejo.”
“Tony, por el amor de Dios.” I’ve had it with his know-it-all, big brother smugness. I set my glass down hard on the table. “Enough already. Jesus Christ!”
The girls go silent. Little Sofia puts her fingers in her mouth and stares at me, wide-eyed.
Shit.
I’d forgotten how tender the girls are since Tony and Alexa split up.
“I’m sorry, Ana and Sofia,” I say. “Did that scare you?”
They both nod rapidly.
Tony is looking at me gravely all of a sudden, not joking around anymore like he usually does.
“I got mad at your daddy. That ever happen to you?”
“Yeah!” Ana says. “When he makes me go to bed and I don’t want to go to bed.”
I nod seriously, hoping I’ll say the right thing. “But then you talk it over and maybe you agree to stay up five minutes more. And maybe Daddy tucks you in after that and you feel better, and you’re not mad anymore, right?”
“Right,” Sofia says.
“So people can get mad at each other sometimes and it’s okay, don’t you think? They can work it out.”
“How?” Ana asks.
Tony reaches across the
table and takes her little hand. “By talking to each other. Like this. Ray, I called you a mean name. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“That’s okay, Tony. I shouldn’t have slammed my glass down on the table. I’m sorry I did that.”
“Should we shake on it?” Tony asks. “Think that would be good, girls?”
They both nod and smile, so we shake hands.
“Sometimes Sofia and me have a fight,” Ana says. “And we have to say sorry, too.”
“That’s what you do when you love someone,” Tony agrees. “You try really hard to work it out.”
“Mommy and you tried really hard, right?”
Tony winces, but pushes on. “Yes, we did. And we’re still friends because we talked it out. We live in separate places now, but we both still love you, we’re still your mommy and daddy, and we’re not mad at each other anymore.”
Sofia stares hard at Tony. “Daddy?”
“¿Sí, amor?”
“Do bees eat honey?”
Ana laughs. “No, silly, they make honey.”
“Oh, right.” Sofia giggles. “We eat the honey.” She leans in toward Ana and starts hatching a plan to become a bee superhero that uses honey to trap bad guys.
I raise an eyebrow at Tony. “Landmine much?”
“You’re telling me.” He blows out a breath. “Thanks for helping with that. They’re fine, you know? And then every once in a while it kind of flares up.”
“That’s good, though. Then you can talk about it. I’m sure they need that.”
“I guess.”
Ana steps carefully down from her chair and comes over to whisper in Tony’s ear. He nods. “Sure, you can go play. Sofia, you done, too? Clear your plates first, okay?”
The girls carry their plates to the kitchen and run off to their bedroom.
“How about you?” I open a new beer and watch Tony finish his burger. “How you doing? Now that the papers are signed and everything.”
Tony wipes his mouth with a napkin and pushes his plate back. “I’m fine. What are you gonna do? It’s not what I planned, but, you know, shit happens.”
“You ever talk to her?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, sure. When she picks up the kids, drops them off. You know how it is.”
“How does she seem?”
“You want to know the kicker?” Tony chuckles. “She seems great. Looks great, too. Better than she has in years. That’s what gets me, actually.” He leans forward. “Is that I didn’t notice…I mean, you’re with somebody every day, things change little by little, maybe you don’t see too clearly. But she wasn’t happy, man. Not for a long time.”
Rolling in the Deep Page 14
