by Kat T. Masen
“I don’t think I can. Masen and Haden—”
“Screw him. You do everything in your marriage. He can live without you for a few days.”
I do need a break.
It will help to clear my mind and really think long and hard about my needs and not Haden’s.
“Where are you thinking?”
“Manhattan,” she says. “I could meet with Natasha Summers. She’s planning to write a series, and I’d love some insight into what exactly she’s thinking.”
Natasha Summers is Indie Press’s bestselling author, so it makes sense for us to meet with her. I can sell this as a business trip.
“So, what you’re saying is a little bit of work and a lot of play?”
“That’s exactly right,” Sandy insists. “So, what do you say?”
The old Haden will argue me leaving Masen along with company costs. His jealous streak of men trying to get their hands on me is always the real reason, although he never admits it. But he no longer cares, so I don’t see this being a real issue.
“Let me talk to Haden tonight, okay? He needs to be the one to take care of Masen.”
We chat a little while longer before I hang up the phone. Sitting back in my chair, I start to fantasize about all the fun we will have together. We can see a Broadway musical, followed by dinner in Little Italy. I love visiting the Guggenheim Museum, and it will be an even better experience with her.
My phone buzzes on my desk, a text from Sandy.
Sandy: I know you’re thinking about it. It’ll be great just you and me, finally.
It will be great. Sandy knows how to have a good time, and with her, it is just easy.
I decide to head out to lunch walking past Haden’s office. Inside, I see John and Charlie. They’re all wearing a serious expression, staring at numbers on the screen. Haden never mentioned Charlie coming into the office, and the only time the three of them sit in a room is usually when big legal decisions need to be made, and I am always normally a part of these discussions.
As I go to knock on the door, Haden lifts his head before my knuckles even tap. His eyes narrow cold and hard before his lips move prompting Charlie and John to turn around.
I draw in a deep breath before entering.
“Is there something you need?” he asks, artic in his tone.
“Well, yes. I’m assuming whatever you’re discussing is important. Is this something I need to be involved in?”
Charlie lowers her head, the same time as John.
I fold my arms over my chest, meeting Haden’s stance.
“Nothing at all, Presley.” His smile is fixated, forced with a touch of malice. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re on a tight deadline.”
I don’t say another word, leaving his office before stomping over to Noah’s office on a mission, glad he is here today and not elsewhere.
Noah’s on the phone, yet he waves me in and gestures for me to take a seat. I continue to stand, the anger within me swirling like an impending cyclone.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Why are Charlie and John in with Haden?”
Noah blinks. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”
“Because he won’t tell me the truth,” I bark back. “Apparently, our marriage is one-sided.”
“C’mon, Pres, that’s not fair. The guy is trying.”
Of course, he takes Haden’s side.
“That’s right… you’re Team Haden.”
Noah shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “There are no teams, Pres. You, of all people, should know that when it comes to marriage, the hardest part is working through the troubled times. You’ve hit a rough patch, and the two of you will get through this. You haven’t gone beyond that moment, and trust me, you don’t want to get there or you’ll end up like me.”
I am not going to pity Noah anymore. He stuck his dick into some other woman and fucked-up his life. And if he wants to take Haden’s side in all of this, then I don’t need to stand here and bother trying.
I storm out, grabbing my purse, telling Maria I am leaving for the day.
Walking for an hour straight, in pumps that pinch my toes, gives me a chance to clear my head. I stop at a café, order lunch, and take my time. The longer I give myself, the more logical my thinking becomes.
If I want answers, I need to go straight to the source.
And that source needs to be alone.
Without John.
Without Charlie.
I make my way back to the office. Maria is surprised to see me after my earlier exit but uses the opportunity to inform me that Clint is looking for me. He can wait, I have something more important to deal with.
Marching toward Haden’s office, I stop dead in my tracks at his door. Sitting across him is a woman. Platinum blonde hair, almost recognizable in a French braid.
The woman flicks her braid to one side in what I know to be a conscious act, flirtatious as she exposes her diamond earring dangling from her ear. Whatever she says makes Haden laugh until his gaze meets mine, and his face freezes on the spot.
He almost looks scared.
With a polite smile, I open the door to introduce myself until the woman turns around to greet me.
My mouth falls open, my posture stiffening suddenly. A heavy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, turning into a burning sensation. My breaths become coarser, and faster, choking my ability to speak.
It is the final nail in the already fragile coffin.
Eloise.
Seventeen
Haden
“Let me explain.”
Presley is standing inside my office, a visible flush in her cheeks. Eloise left minutes ago, and yet in the space of that time, silence surrounds us.
Timing was fucked-up. Eloise had arranged to meet Noah, not me, except he got called into another meeting. I didn’t think it would be a big deal since Presley stormed out of the office hours ago, telling Maria she wouldn’t return.
“Eloise was here to meet with Noah. They’re working on something together. I’m not involved, marketing is all Noah’s team.”
Her lips are pressed flat, and pupils flare with her angered expression. I know she despises Eloise. But she has to know there’s nothing going on which should warrant any jealousy. I fucking love Presley.
“Will you say something?” I ask her, raising my tone in frustration. “But, I guess, you wouldn’t care what I do unless it involves Sandy, right?”
My words seem to resonate, sparking a furious stare coupled with silence.
“How long has this been going on?” she grits.
“There’s nothing going on!” I shout, irritated by her assumptions. “She called me a while ago, and I gave her Noah’s contact information. That’s it.”
Presley lowers her gaze toward the floor. “I need to go…”
Panic rushes over me, my heart starts pounding at an increasingly rapid rate. She has to know nothing is going on with Eloise. I can call Noah, get him to explain. Fuck!
“Where are you going?” I demand.
She shakes her head with a twisted mouth. “Anywhere but here.”
Presley walks out of my office, and I don’t follow. Burying my head into my hands, I know this is the tip of the fucking iceberg. We are falling apart. The old me would have raced after her, demanded we go home so I can prove to her how much I only want her.
But I don’t have it left in me.
She has torn me to pieces, and I don’t know how to fight any longer.
Grabbing my things, I send Presley a text telling her I’ll pick up Masen. She doesn’t respond, though I can see the message was read.
Masen is exactly the distraction I need. We stop at a local burger joint, picking up something to eat before heading home. It’s almost like he knows something is wrong because he’s quieter than usual and even agreeing to go to bed without a fuss.
Once he is fast asleep, I pour myself a scotch, almost finishing it by the time I walk outside to the
back deck with my guitar in hand. There’s a slight breeze, the perfect amount to distract my thoughts and focus on tuning my guitar. I can’t remember the last time I played out here, and to warm up, I begin to play Maroon 5, singing along to “Memories” until the sound of the back door stops me.
I place my guitar against the chair beside me. Presley doesn’t say a word, and taking a deep breath, I push the anger aside and control my voice.
“I can’t do this anymore, Presley. Watch you destroy us because why… we lost a baby?”
Under the moonlight and the fairy lights hovering above us, I can see her posture stiffen.
“Destroy us?” she states in a chilling tone. “Because it’s always my fault, right?”
It kills me that she blames herself. I can’t understand why she thinks she has anything to do with physically losing the baby. Yes, at first, we both thought we did something wrong, but just like Charlie said, these things are in the hands of God. I never considered myself an overly religious person, but fuck, I have no idea what he is doing to us right now. My faith is beyond shattered.
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her, faintly.
“You didn’t lose a baby, Haden. Let’s get that straight,” she shot back. “I lost the baby. Therefore, all my fault.”
Clint’s words echo in my head. Cassandra has something to do with this, I’m dead certain. The woman standing before me is not the Presley I fell in love with.
And she changed the moment Cassandra came into her life.
This person? She’s a stranger.
“So, what do you want, Presley? No matter what I do, I can’t seem to make you happy anymore.”
Her shadow doesn’t move an inch, her silence making her almost invisible. My frustration builds, on the verge of exploding. I take a deep breath curbing my desperate need to shout and cuss hurtful words to make her realize she’s fucking wrong.
“I’m going to go away for a few days,” she mutters, unable to look at me. “I need time to think.”
“Think?”
“About us.”
The second it leaves her mouth, it crushes me.
My limbs begin to tremble, my chest tightens, making it impossible to breathe.
Why the fuck is she doing this?
“You can’t just leave, you have responsibilities,” I remind her with a raised tone. “You’re a mother.”
A menacing laugh escapes her lips. “For the last four years, I’ve dedicated my life to you and Masen. Who dedicates their life to me? Certainly not you…” she pauses, each word cutting through me like a sharp knife. “I’ve lost who I am. I want to feel alive again.”
“And you think you need Cassandra to do that?” I bark.
“Leave her out of this.”
“Leave her out of this?” I jump to my feet, my guitar tumbling to the patio deck as the anger consumes me, my fist pounding against my thighs. “She’s the fucking reason why you won’t let me touch you anymore. I can’t believe I’m even saying this.”
“And I can’t believe how closeminded you are,” she fires back. “Actually, yes, I can. Probably one of the reasons you hid Eloise’s return from me.”
This is beyond Eloise, and I refuse for Presley to use that as an excuse. She knows I would never lay a finger on another woman.
“So that’s it. You’re just going to take off to God knows where to do what, Presley? Get drunk and party like you’re in college?”
This is the breaking point. I’m blinded by a serving of rage, only tasting bitterness toward them. Every word she mouths stings, fueling the fire burning inside of me.
I didn’t think we were beyond broken.
Until her eyes lift, and her stare is anything but loving.
I’m not staring at the woman I love. She is lost, possessed by this beast who actively wants to destroy us.
I want to save her.
I want to bring her back to me.
But I’m crippled by the shattering of my heart, watching it fall to a million pieces in one cold stare.
“No, Haden,” she says, falling into a momentary digestive silence. “To think about if I still want to be in this marriage.”
Eighteen
Presley
As the plane lands on the tarmac, my heart splutters a ray of mixed emotions.
It has been almost two years since I have been to the city, and even then, it was with Haden and Masen to visit Elizabeth during her breast-cancer scare.
In those two years, I have grown accustomed to the California lifestyle—sprawling homes, the quiet sounds of birds chirping in the morning as I sit outside on our patio, waiting for the fog to lift to bask in the sunlight. The ocean is only a short drive away, but all in all, it is the constant feeling of open space, unlike Manhattan.
When I graduated from college and purchased my one-way bus ticket to Manhattan, I was a young girl full of hopes and dreams. I had a long list of places I wanted to explore, get to know, fall in love with, and my youthful self didn’t care about anything else.
I couldn’t recall the countless hours spent daydreaming, stemming from movies I watched as a child such as Home Alone 2 and one of Mom’s favorites, Working Girl. I imagined a place full of endless possibilities, a naïve Presley wanted to experience that with my then-boyfriend, Kyle.
He never showed up at the train station that day, yet even with a bruised ego, I hopped on that train ready for the next stage of my life. I wasn’t prepared for what would happen next.
New York stole my heart—it was an act of thievery.
I couldn’t and refused to see a world outside the island. I was young and foolish, self-absorbed at the best of times. If I could make something of myself in a city where millions of people hustled every day, then I had accomplished my ultimate dream.
And as I sit here waiting to exit, all those thoughts swirl in my head. I welcome it, though. It distracts me from the heartbreaking conversation last night with Haden, to the difficult goodbye as I dropped Masen off at Gemma’s house.
Four days to myself.
Ninety-six hours to decide whether or not I stay in our marriage.
The departure from the plane is quick and easy. Sandy and I didn’t check-in our bags, wheeling our small carry-ons through the terminal. Outside, we wait for a cab to pull up, hopping in for the ride over to Midtown.
It is just after nine, and as the darkness falls upon the sky, ahead of us is a city of skyscrapers and lights. It’s beautiful and mesmerizing. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until it’s in my sight.
“I haven’t been back for almost two years,” I say, watching outside the window. “It just feels so…”
“Surreal?” Sandy beams, resting her hand on mine. “Like a void you couldn’t quite fill, but now it’s like… oh.”
I nod, resting my head against the seat with a relaxed smile.
“It’s hard to pinpoint sometimes, what it is exactly about this place that makes it so incredible.”
“To quote Tom Wolf, ‘one belongs to New York instantly,’” Sandy says, wistfully.
“I can’t believe we were here at the same time.”
“I can.” Sandy grabs my hand, and I ignore Haden’s voice rattling inside my head. He is known for exaggerating, and Sandy only has good intentions when it comes to our friendship. “Remember how much we talked about it? How we would lay in bed and list all the things we were going to do.”
I chuckle, softly. “We were going to perform on Broadway, but I can’t sing.”
“And I can’t dance.”
“We were going to go to a deli and order the largest pastrami sub sandwich ever.”
Sandy’s laughter joins my own. “Ironic because I turned vegetarian.”
I sigh, turning out to the window again. “We were young, you know. So full of dreams. It would have been different, life, if you were in it.”
“We can’t change the past, believe me,” she notes, with dark amusement. “But we can definitely change the future.”<
br />
Although it is night here on the East Coast, it is early evening back home. My body, surprisingly, is far from tired as excitement runs through my veins. For the first time in a long time, I begin to feel like my old self again, ignoring the memories of back home.
New York had a way of making you trade-in stargazing for soul-searching, no matter what age. My journey as a woman is still on the forefront of my mind. And it becomes clearer as we drive over the bridge, where I had become Mrs. Cooper, Haden’s wife and Masen’s mother.
I don’t know who the hell Presley is anymore.
The cab driver slams his foot on the brakes, cussing something to a car ahead.
The sounds of cars honking are nostalgic, the steam rising from the sewer grates as people walk past. The city’s littered with lights and people. It’s impossible to feel alone even at this time of the night.
I take it all in—the sights, the people, the noise—everything takes me back to a time when life was easy.
The cab driver pulls in front of The Plaza Hotel, stopping his meter with a friendly smile. After paying the fare and overpriced tip which I had forgotten about since I never take cabs in LA, we step inside the grand entrance, taking in the luxurious ambiance of the main lobby.
“I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in this hotel,” I mumble, admiring the large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
“This would have been one month’s rent for me back in the day,” Sandy points out. “Your husband certainly knows how to spoil you.”
“My husband?” I look at Sandy, shaking my head to correct her. “This was me. And why not? We work hard, right? Haden won’t be happy, but who cares.”
Her lips curve upward into a smile, and with a small squeal, we move toward the reception desk and check ourselves in.
The staff is lovely, accommodating our requests and gives us keys to our rooms.
“I guess I’m going to call it a night.” Sandy lets out a yawn. “Early morning run in Central Park?”
