* * *
Who knew how much time and stress the day was going to bring.
I'm not complaining, since I'm spending it with Grammy, but between the time it took to discharge her, the prescriptions I fought with the pharmacist over who insisted they weren’t covered by insurance, the traffic that I swear gets worse each day, dropping her off at home with the nurse, picking up all the cats and their stuff back in the city, and then driving back to Queens…
I'm fit to be tied and could use a stiff drink.
Only stiff drinks make me think of James and his expensive cognac. I think back to when we first met and how we hung out all day like we'd known each other for years in that underground private room, sipping his favorite drink and picking at food. I’d thought he was crazy to want to finish off a bottle. We did, though, and it was one of the best days I'd ever had being a whore, as James had so sweetly called me.
I close my eyes as I sit in the parked car in front of Grammy's house. There was such venom in his words the last time we were together. I keep thinking about why it hurt me so much to hear him call me a whore and I think it's because he accepted me, the real me, from the beginning, just like I did with him knowing he was married. It didn't bother him that I get paid for sex. In fact, I think he liked it. The only thing that wasn't me was the name—Valentina—and we both knew that. He got all of me. It's why this separation hurts so much, why I can't eat or sleep. Why I've been falling into a deeper pit of depression each day. He took a part of me without asking and I didn't even know it until it was too late. I've never given myself freely the way I did with him, not even with Daniel, and I don't know how to deal with that missing part of me I'll never get back.
I sigh inwardly and take out my phone when I see a message from Natalie asking to borrow a specific calculator. I send her a response telling her it's in my desk somewhere and to shuffle shit around until she finds it, then I move on to Daniel.
He asked me earlier if he could see me tonight and I told him once I'm done with Grammy, I'd let him know when's a good time. I send a quick message saying that he should bring over a bottle of tequila in about two hours. He responds pretty quickly and tells me he'll bring wine.
Blah. I don't want wine, but beggars can't be choosers. I think tonight I'll open up about Grammy and talk about moving in with him. He's been waiting for an answer and I've been busy avoiding it. Moving in with Daniel could be the start of something good, and just may be the thing to help me forget about James permanently.
Getting out of the car, I walk up to Grammy's house carrying all the cat carriers and let myself in.
I almost burst into tears at the sight before me. Our gazes meet and I force a smile. I can tell she's trying to remain strong for me, but I need to look just as strong for her. I squat down to hide my sadness and fumble with opening the pet cages. The cats run free and one sprints onto her lap. I smile at the image of them.
Crossing the distance, I place a kiss to the top of her head. "I hope you're not giving the nice lady a hard time."
There's medical equipment everywhere, bags of clear liquid, a wheelchair, vials of medicine. Grammy is seated in a tattered recliner while a nurse checks her blood pressure. The woman smiles up at me then focuses on her task at hand. There are black and blue marks at the creases of Grammy’s elbows where blood was drawn repeatedly from her fragile body, and a new IV is sticking out the top of her hand.
She scoffs. "I don't need any of this. I'm fine. I feel great. Honestly."
I smile. "You're such a bull. Let the lady do her job. Did you eat while I was gone like I said to?"
She eyes me with guilt, and I laugh. "I didn't have an appetite," she says.
"You're eating before I leave. I'm going to bring in the rest of your cats’ stuff then I'll make some soup for you."
"You're an angel," she says.
Once I unpack her belongings and set up, I'm standing in the kitchen cooking when the nurse comes in to introduce herself.
"I'm Ms. Shelly, and I'll be one of your grandmother’s hospice nurses on rotation."
I almost drop the pan of boiling hot water I’m holding.
"Hospice?"
Fifty-Six
Ms. Shelly looks at me in confusion. "Were you not aware?"
I blink a few times. "Well, I knew there would be a nurse. I just didn't know it would be from hospice."
Her smile is gentle and I find it oddly soothing.
"Your grandmother made the call herself from the hospital. I'll be here four times a week to monitor her condition and check how well her medications are working to relieve symptoms. I'll also be communicating with her doctor should anything arise."
The fact that Grammy called hospice makes me sick to my stomach with dread. No one makes that call unless it's serious and they absolutely have to. My jaw trembles and I sniffle, sucking back my emotions. The only plus I see about hospice is that I'm relieved someone will be here for her when I can't.
"What about at night? Does someone stay?" I ask, my voice a little shaky.
"We can. We can do shifts if it makes you feel better."
I nod. "It would. If you're here that many days a week, the cancer must be worse than I thought. She just doesn't want to tell me. I'd like someone to always be here for her."
"We'll have to modify the paperwork—"
"Don't bother her with that. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it. The papers and cost, anything she needs, I can take care of."
Ms. Shelly smiles appreciatively. "She's lucky to have a granddaughter like you. Now when you're done, I'd like to show you a few things if you have time?"
"Of course. Would you like a bowl of soup?"
Ms. Shelly politely declines. I prepare a bowl, then carry it out to Grammy.
"You didn't tell me you called hospice."
She sits up, scooting close to the table. "I didn't want you to worry. It's just a precaution. I may be hardheaded, but I'm not dumb." She takes a sip of her Tuscan soup. "This is delicious. Thank you, Aubrey."
I smile. "Do you want me to stay the night? I was thinking I would."
"No, absolutely not," she says firmly. "You're not going to baby me because of a few words the doctor said. I can handle myself, plus, I have Shelly here." She takes another bite, then says, "In fact, it's late and you've been helping me all day. Why don't you get going?"
My brows lift. "Are you kicking me out?"
"Yes," Grammy says, but not with any meanness. "I love you, but go home."
I chuckle lightly. After Ms. Shelly goes over everything she brought and explains what her roll is, I kiss Grammy on the head and leave. As I'm walking down the block to the bus stop, I text Daniel telling him to meet me at my place in an hour or so and then I dial up Natalie.
"Hey," she answers.
I frown for a split second at her tone. I know it's only a three-letter word, but it sounds clipped.
"Hey! I'm on my way home and need a drink so bad. Are you busy?"
"No."
I hesitate for a second. "Oh, okay. Well, Daniel's coming over with wine. I thought we could all hang out and order Chinese?"
"Sure."
My frown deepens as the bus draws closer. "Is everything okay?" I ask, again. "You seem off."
"Yeah. Everything is just dandy."
Something is definitely wrong. There isn’t a hint of sarcasm in her words like there usually is.
"Okay… Do you want me to pick anything up before I get home?"
"No. I'll just see you when you get here," Natalie says, then hangs up the phone.
Pulling the phone away, I glance down at the blank screen wondering why her tone seems so grim. It's totally unlike her.
An unsettling feeling coils in my stomach as I climb onto the bus and take a seat. Maybe she had a job gone bad and wants to be alone, and here I am telling her Daniel is coming over with wine.
After a few transfers and a couple of blocks, I'm finally unlocking my door. I push it open to a somewhat dark
apartment. It's oddly quiet and I reach for the light on the side of the wall. Placing my purse on the counter, I shrug my jacket off and turn to hang it on the back of the door when I spot Natalie behind me sitting at the table. I jump, grasping my chest.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Natalie!" A harsh sigh bursts out of me. "You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing?"
She's staring, her severe gaze probing mine. Heat prickles down my arms and my veins fill with dread, a laden weight rooting me in place.
"Is everything okay?" I ask. "Did something happen?"
She sits back, still glaring. She unfolds her arms, and I see a little white piece of paper between her fingers. I can hear the material rubbing together as she straightens it out and flips it over.
I hardly breathe when I view the front of it. The world fades around me, sound droning out as my eyes focus in on the pale blue rectangular piece of paper with angry scribbles on it. My lips part and my throat is dry as cotton.
It's the last five-million-dollar check James wrote me. I never deposited it. I placed it in my desk drawer under a few things and shut it. I was going to give it back, but I was too distraught to think since that day and forgot. She must've found it when she was looking for the calculator.
"What is this?" she inquires.
Her gaze…it says everything. I try to swallow but my throat is tight.
"Natalie," I say softly.
"What is this?" she repeats, enunciating the words to a point.
She slowly stands and walks over to me. She holds the check up to my face. My eyes run over it. At the bottom where the memo is, James wrote "services."
Fuck.
My gaze shifts up to hers. I need to think before I speak but I can see in her gaze that her mind is already made up.
"It's not what you think." Dumbest words ever spoken. "It is…but it isn't." My voice staggers with guilt.
"Don't try and play me for a fucking fool. A five-million-dollar check? Services? How long have you been fucking him?"
I flinch.
"How long?" she yells, then smacks the check to the counter. "Did you go after him after you met him? Saw the money and lavish world and decided you wanted it for yourself?" Her eyes light up, like everything had just clicked into place. Her lips part with a gasp. "You're the reason," she says under her breath. "You're the reason my dad moved out. The reason for the divorce."
I shake my head vehemently and draw in a heavy breath. "No, it's not like that. I swear."
"It is, though. That's exactly what it is. When did this happen?"
I'm silent, unable to speak.
"Aubrey, answer my fucking question because I'm about two seconds from losing it completely."
This can go one of two ways. Honesty is the only way to set the truth free, but honesty is going to be what ruins everything. Harboring a dark secret and telling the truth is a double-edged sword for a friendship.
"It started about eight months ago," I say.
Her eyes widen in shock and confusion. "How? You only just met him a couple of months ago."
I lower my voice to show her that I don't want to fight with her. "I didn't know he was your dad until the charity dinner. I met him before that."
She blinks a few times. " When did you start fucking him? Before you knew he was my dad, or after?"
My jaw trembles, tears filling my eyes. I try to blink them back. I feel like I'm splitting in two. I know if I tell her the truth that our friendship will be over.
An eerie calmness settles over Natalie. It spreads like wildfire and it frightens me because I can feel the blazing heat seeping from her. I'm trying to think of what I can say that might help this, but nothing comes to mind.
Her head bobs subtly in awareness, her gaze accusatory. "It was after, wasn't it? You slept with him after."
I nod my head, and before I can see what's happening, her hand is flying toward my face. My head whips to the side as a gasp is torn from my lips. I reach up to hold my face and stare at her. She's absolutely seething, but what kills me is the devastation in her icy glare.
"My dad offers you money for sex and you take it? Knowing he's my dad? Knowing he's married? What kind of person are you? You're supposed to be my best friend, Aubrey. I've always been there for you, and this is the kind of thanks I get? What did I ever do to you to deserve this? My parents have been married for twenty-two years. Then suddenly you come along and he has an affair? I know you're the reason he filed." She shakes her head in loathing. "I just know it. How do you do that to someone you care about? To me? How do you fuck him and then look me in the eye for months like nothing ever happened?"
I roll my lips between my teeth. The tears have broken free, streaming down my cheeks.
"I'm so sorry."
"You're not sorry. If you were sorry you wouldn't have kept spreading your legs. You're just sorry you got caught."
I look at her. "I am sorry. It's been killing me inside since the first—"
I stop myself and flatten my lips. Her eyes widen with fury.
"Since the first what? Say it? Out with it."
I purse my lips together. "He wrote me two checks. That's the second one."
A shadow casts across her eyes. Disgust. Hatred. Outrage. "Ten million? He gave you ten?"
I nod.
"How many times did you sleep with him?" she asks through gritted teeth.
I swallow thickly. "I didn't keep track."
"I know you know. You always keep track."
I shake my head. That, I would never tell.
"I pray my mom doesn't know what you did because if she does, there will be hell to pay. I hope that despicable man I can't even call my father spared her of that. I want you out of my life, and out of my apartment. You're not a friend. You never were a friend. I would never, ever do that to you no matter how much money I'm offered. A friend doesn't sleep with her friend’s dad behind her back and then console her when she tells her about the separation. You're a fucking piece of shit, a home-wrecking slut. I fucking hate you."
Something about her tone and words set me off. I know she's upset—she has every right to be—but she doesn't get to slap me and break me down with names.
"He didn't even know me as Aubrey until I met him at the dinner. Believe me, I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how."
She scoffs, appalled. "You wanted to tell me but instead you thought sleeping with him was a better idea? Do you see how messed up that is? Who are you?"
I don't want to throw James under the bus, but I need Natalie to see it's not all my fault and that I didn't chase him down.
"I met him through your club, Natalie."
Her eyes lower to slits. "You're lying." She shakes her head, a mocking laugh under her breath. "Anything to save your ass. Where's the other half of that check?"
"In my bank," I say, my voice full of shame. "I forgot about that one,” I motion toward the check, “but I wasn't going to deposit it anyway."
"There's nothing you can say that will help this situation."
"Ask him. Go to your father and ask him. Did you even talk to him before you started making assumptions, or did you just decide to jump down my throat first? Yeah, I know I fucked up big time, but I didn't chase James after I realized who he was like you think. Christine paired us up before that. That's how it started. Your dad was already cheating before I came along."
"There are eight million people in this scummy city, and you go after him?"
I don't say anything.
She's right, I could've said no, I tried to say no, but in the end, I couldn’t deny him.
Still, I need to show that it wasn't planned.
"It's really not what you think. I'm not lying, Natalie. I met him through Sanctuary Cove."
Clarity fills her eyes. Covering her mouth, Natalie draws in an audible gasp. She takes a step back.
"Oh my God. He's the one, isn't he? The one you were obsessing over."
My heart is hammering so hard that my ribs ac
he. The look in her eyes says it all when it clicks together. All I can do is look away.
Fifty-Seven
Natalie throws her hands into the air. "Un-fucking-believable," she says, turning in a circle. She looks back at me, eyes wide and in utter disbelief. "So when you asked if I’d ever fallen for a client, you were talking about my dad?"
Her voice is starting to crack and that only makes me more upset because the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt her. I was hoping by ending it with James that it would pass with time and our secret would stay hidden. I should've known better. Secrets, lies, affairs, they never stay buried. They always come out and ultimately destroy the ones we love.
"Yes," I admit. "I was. I felt that way about him even when I didn't know who he was to you."
Natalie can't stop shaking her head or looking at me with such disdain. It's heartbreaking. I step toward her, only for her to take a step back like I'm carrying a disease she doesn't want to catch.
"I don't see how we'll ever get past this. I know now you're the reason for my parents splitting, because they were fine then suddenly, they're not. I'll never trust you again. A cheating loser and slut for a friend. You two are perfect for each other."
There's rapid knocking and we both look at the door. Natalie looks at me. Scoffing under her breath, she asks, "Does he know about my father? About your work yet?"
Eyes wide, I shake my head as she reaches for the doorknob. A sly smirk tugs at her lips and her brow raises to a peak.
My body runs cold and sheer dread consumes me. "Please, don't say anything. Let me tell him myself."
She ignores my plea and welcomes Daniel in. "Hey, Danny boy, what a pleasure it is to see you tonight." She lays it on thick and a tad sarcastic, but luckily he doesn't recognize it. She shuts the door.
Daniel walks toward me, but my gaze is on Natalie. I silently plead with her as he hugs me, but the look she's giving me makes me nauseous.
Daniel pulls back. I can barely meet his gaze. "Hey, babe…is everything okay? You look a little pale."
Hush, Hush Page 35
