The Invitation

by Vi Keeland

  “It was. But change of plans. Aiden’s leaving at four, and I want to follow him.”

  ***

  “There he is.” I pointed to Aiden as he walked out the front entrance of his building, wheeling his luggage. Fisher and I were parked four cars away, waiting.

  I slumped down in my seat even though Aiden had turned left, the opposite direction of where we were. He kept his Prius in a parking garage about two blocks away.

  “Should I follow him?” Fisher said.

  I shook my head. “It’s going to take him a few minutes to get down to the garage, and then it’s at least ten minutes for the valet to pull the car around. We should probably wait until he goes inside so he doesn’t see us.”

  “Okay.”

  Tailing someone wasn’t as easy as it looked on TV, especially in New York City. Since only a few cars at a time make any given traffic light, anxiety built inside me each time we got separated. But somehow we managed not to lose him. We trailed a few cars behind on the FDR Drive and then followed him onto I-87.

  “It looks like he’s heading upstate,” Fisher said. “But I called the place that held the conference he told you he was going to. It was definitely only last weekend.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what to think. Maybe he’s meeting a woman up where the conference is anyway? So a new hotel charge makes sense?”

  “Maybe. You’ve called him out on enough stuff that he knows you’re suspicious.”

  We drove for a while, long enough that it seemed that was exactly what Aiden was doing, and we were going to be on the road for a while. But as we approached the exit near where Fisher and I grew up, Aiden put on his blinker and moved into the right lane.

  “He knows the area, so he probably needs a bathroom break or gas and figured he’d stop here.”

  Fisher dropped back a bit, letting a few extra cars get between us so we weren’t right behind him when we stopped at the exit ramp light.

  “You’re oddly good at this tailing thing, Fisher.”

  He smiled. “It’s not my first rodeo, love. Gay men can’t keep it in their pants for too long. Unfortunately, I’ve done this before.”

  “Without me?”

  He shrugged. “I figured you’d lecture me for following someone.”

  He was probably right. A year ago I would’ve told him if he felt the need to follow someone, the person didn’t have his trust, and the relationship was doomed. Yet here I was… It was a stark reminder not to judge others unless I’d walked in their shoes.

  “Where the hell is he going?” Fisher asked.

  Aiden had passed all the little stores and the gas station right off the parkway. He was actually heading toward the neighborhood Fisher and I had grown up in—where my parents and Fisher’s dad still lived.

  When Aiden made a right into the development where my parents lived, we had to drop back a lot since there were no cars between us. I again slumped down in my seat.

  “Is he going to my parents’ house? What the heck would he be going there for?”

  Fisher wiggled his brows. “Maybe he’s one of your mom’s downstairs guests.”

  “Eww…don’t be gross.”

  We’d been joking, but sure enough, Aiden made a left and drove down my parents’ block.

  “Don’t turn,” I said. “If he’s going to my parents’ house, we should be able to see from here. Can you just pull up to the corner enough for us to peek?”

  Fisher parked right at the stop sign, and we leaned forward to peer down the block. The Prius slowed and pulled into my parents’ driveway.

  “What the hell is he doing? Why wouldn’t he tell me he was coming here? I just spoke to my mom the other day and she didn’t mention he was stopping by.”

  Fisher shrugged. “Maybe they’re planning a surprise party for you or something?”

  “My birthday isn’t for nine months.”

  Once Aiden got out of the car and disappeared into the house, Fisher and I decided to pull down the block. We parked a few houses away and slid down in our seats.

  For the next hour, I kept going over all the things that had made me suspicious. I finally sighed. “Maybe Aiden’s right and the diary I’m reading has made me paranoid, making me see things that aren’t there.”

  “You had suspicions before you started reading this one,” Fisher reminded me.

  “Yeah…but…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’ve definitely become obsessive about the idea that Aiden might be cheating, and I think a lot of it might be because of the stuff I’m reading. I mean, it’s my third time reading this damn diary, and I sit on the stairs at the library wondering if the people around me might be Alexandria or her husband. I just don’t understand how she can cheat on him—and then not tell him the baby she gave birth to might not even be his.”

  “And the guy she’s sleeping with, he’s her husband’s buddy, right?”

  I nodded. “It’s terrible. It’s like the ultimate betrayal—your wife and your best friend.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty shitty,” Fisher said. “Not much gets worse than that.”

  The door to my parents’ house opened, and my heart jolted in my chest. “Someone’s coming.”

  Fisher and I slouched down as far as we could while still being able to see out the window. My parents and my sister walked outside and stood on the top step, talking to Aiden for a few minutes. Eventually, my mom and dad said goodbye and went back inside, while my sister walked Aiden to his car. When they got to the Prius, they both walked around to the passenger side, and Aiden opened the door for Cecelia to get in. As she went to climb inside, he grabbed her hand. The rest seemed to play out in slow motion.

  Aiden pulled her against him and backed her up against the car. A breeze blew her long, dark hair in front of her face, and he brushed it away…right before moving in for a kiss. Stunned and still in some sort of insane denial, I somehow expected my sister to push him off—like this was the first time it had happened. She’d smack him across the face and push him away.

  But she didn’t. My sister wrapped her arms around my fiancé’s neck and kissed him back—two willing participants embroiled in a passionate kiss…in my parents’ driveway.

  I couldn’t say a word. My mouth hung open in complete and utter shock. I’d forgotten Fisher was sitting next to me until he spoke.

  “I stand corrected. There are worse things than your wife banging your buddy like in the diary you’re reading.” He shook his head in disbelief as he gawked with me. “That’s the ultimate fucking betrayal.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Stella

  “Are you shitting me?” Fisher shook his head. “Is that even possible?”

  I hadn’t planned on telling my friend anything—let alone the whole story—but that’s exactly what I’d done. I’d told Fisher that Hudson might not be Charlie’s father before I’d told Hudson, and I felt so guilty for violating his privacy. But Fisher had known something was off with me all week. Tonight when he’d walked in and found me in wrinkled pajamas with hair that hadn’t been brushed in two days and swollen eyes...I didn’t really have much choice.

  I sighed. “I’m pretty sure I’m right. All the facts line up—plus, I got that diary from Evelyn.”

  “How did Evelyn get it?”

  “I have no idea.” I shrugged. “Olivia mentioned once that Evelyn and Hudson’s ex had a falling out because Evelyn took something from her. Maybe what she stole was the diary.”

  “Alright.” He put his hands on his hips and thought for a moment. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go brush your hair and wash your face, and I’m going to go next door and get a legal pad and two bottles of wine. When I come back, you’re going to tell me all the facts, and we’ll see if I come to the same conclusion. If I do, we’ll figure out your game plan.”

  I slouched into the couch deeper. “I don’t want a game plan.”

  Fisher grabbed both my hands and pulled me to standing. “Don’t car
e. When you first started suspecting that Aiden was cheating, I blew it off. I should’ve sat you down right away and listened and come up with a game plan to get to the bottom of things. I didn’t, and you spent months stressing and suffering. We’re not going down that road again. We need resolution.” Fisher eyed the top of my head. “Plus, I think there might be a rat or two nesting in here. So go brush. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  I sulked, so Fisher walked me to my bedroom. He kissed my forehead and pushed me toward the bathroom door. “Go.”

  Ten minutes later, we met on the couch. Fisher nodded to an empty wrapper. “You ate that entire thing of chocolate that was delivered?”

  I frowned. The morning after I’d run out of Hudson’s house, a beautiful bouquet of exotic flowers had been delivered, along with an enormous, five-pound Hershey bar. Hudson’s note had read, You make me feel better than any amount of chocolate. I’d eaten the entire thing over the last few days while wondering if that statement would ever be true again. No amount of anandamide could get me out of my funk.

  “Don’t remind me,” I said. “I feel awful. Hudson has to be freaking out about why I’ve disappeared and keep avoiding his calls and messages. But I can’t look him in the eyes with what I know. I can’t, Fisher. I’m crazy about him. I’m hurting him right now, but it’s going to be so much worse when I tell him.”

  Fisher squeezed my hand. “Alright, honey. But you did the right thing. This isn’t the type of thing you spring on someone if you’re not absolutely certain. And once you’re sure, you need to figure out how to break the news gently.”

  “Fisher…” I shook my head. “There is no gently. We’re talking about his daughter.”

  “Okay. But you need to relax a little, so we can go through all the details. Let’s have some wine, at least. You looked less nervous telling four-hundred guests how you met the bride at the wedding of a woman you’d never seen before.” Fisher poured two large glasses of merlot and sat up straight, his pen ready. He looked very much in lawyer mode. “Let’s get started. When did Evelyn give you this diary?”

  “It was a birthday present—around eighteen months ago. I remember being surprised she had gotten me anything, because I didn’t even think she knew it was my birthday.” I thought back. “You’d sent me flowers. When Evelyn saw them, she asked what they were for. I said it was my birthday, and then she went into her room and came out with the diary. It wasn’t wrapped or anything.”

  “Is there any indication of years in the diary—from television programs or anything?”

  I shook my head. “I read it at least a dozen times from cover to cover over the last few days. I didn’t find any.”

  “Okay.” Fisher scribbled down eighteen months on his legal pad and underscored it with two bold slashes. “And when did Hudson and his ex get divorced?”

  “He said Charlie was about two. So that would be four years ago.”

  “So the diary could’ve been written anywhere from a year and a half ago to a hundred years ago?”

  I shrugged. “I guess. But the pages aren’t yellowed or anything, so I don’t think it’s too old.”

  “Okay…so the timeline works, but it would probably work for a million other scenarios, too. Let’s move on to names. Your woman’s name was Alexandria. Do we know that’s Hudson’s ex-wife’s name for sure?”

  I nodded. “Hudson had only ever referred to her as Lexi, but the other night when Charlie mentioned her full name—I asked what her mom’s name was. It’s Alexandria—and, by the way, she also kept a diary. Hudson once mentioned that in passing.”

  “Okay. That’s two names in common. What about Hudson? Does the diary ever say his name?”

  I shook my head. “She only refers to him as H, which I assumed while reading stood for husband. But obviously that could stand for Hudson. And the guy she was having an affair with is her husband’s best friend, and she calls him J. Hudson’s best friend’s name is Jack.”

  Fisher scribbled some more notes. “There’re thousands of people named Jack. It’s a common name. I bet Alexandria is, too. Again, all circumstantial.”

  “But she wrote down her daughter’s name the day she was born—Laken Charlotte.”

  Fisher’s brows pulled together. “And Hudson’s kid’s name is definitely Laken Charlotte?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, that’s not such a common combination, obviously. I’ve never met anyone named Laken, but I’m sure there are quite a few in New York. We have more than eight-million people who live here.”

  “There are one-thousand-six-hundred-and-sixty-two people named Laken in the United States who are under the age of thirteen, according to the Census Bureau. I looked it up.”

  “Shit. Okay. Well, that’s still more than sixteen-hundred people.”

  “But when I put in the first name and the last name—Laken Rothschild—they estimate that there is only one.”

  “Estimate? The Census Bureau isn’t sure.”

  “They tell you based on old data. It’s more of a statistical-type thing than an exact count. But basically, it’s not a popular name combination.”

  “Alright, what else?”

  “Alexandria was married at the New York Public Library. So were Hudson and Lexi.”

  “Ugh. This isn’t looking so good.”

  “Alexandria and H also lived on the Upper West Side, same as Lexi and Hudson.”

  Fisher blew out a deep breath. “So there’re definitely a lot of coincidences. But I once read about a set of twins separated at birth. Both were named James by their adoptive parents, and both grew up to be cops and marry women with the same name. They also had kids with the same name, then got divorced and married women with the same name for their second marriages. They didn’t realize any of it until they met later in life. So strange shit can happen.”

  I sighed. “I guess. But what do I do? Say, ‘Hey, by the way, I think there’s a possibility your daughter isn’t yours? Oh, and she might be your lifelong best friend Jack’s because he was secretly banging your ex-wife’?”

  Fisher shook his head. “Jesus.” He knocked back the rest of his glass of wine. “I don’t think you have any other choice.”

  “I could burn the diary and pretend I never saw it.”

  “And then what? Never tell the guy his kid might not be his? I know you, Stella. That would eat a hole in your stomach.”

  I looked into Fisher’s eyes. “She’s the light of his life. I think I’d rather it eat a hole in my stomach than break Hudson’s heart.”

  “But you can’t even function. You haven’t had a real conversation with him since you figured all this out. You can’t keep it in unless you’re leaving his life entirely.” Fisher frowned. “Christ, if it’s true… Think of how many lives that one diary has ruined. You might never have found out what Aiden was doing had you not been reading it. And now this. It’s really crazy.” He paused, shaking his head. “But you need to tell him, honey. He has a right to know.”

  It felt like there was a golf ball stuck in my throat. I swallowed. “I know.”

  After our talk, Fisher and I proceeded to polish off both bottles of wine. I was trying to drown my brain, hoping maybe it would allow me to stop thinking about what I needed to do for just a few minutes. But all the alcohol seemed to do was make me feel sadder.

  I felt tears threatening. “I don’t want to lose him, Fisher. I miss him like crazy, and it’s been less than a week since I saw him.”

  Fisher stroked my hair. “I saw the way Hudson looked at you. That man is crazy about you, too. You’re not going to lose him, but you do need to talk to him. It can’t be avoided anymore.”

  I sighed. “I know. I’ve just felt so paralyzed these last few days.”

  I walked Fisher to the door about ten. “I’ll bring us breakfast in the morning when you’re sober so we can talk about how you’re going to tell him,” he said.

  I sighed. “Okay. Thank you.”

  He tilted my chin up. “
You going to be okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  After I shut the door, I cleaned up the wine glasses and tossed the empty bottles in the garbage. When I went to flip the kitchen light switch off, I saw Fisher had left his key to my apartment on the counter. I assumed he’d figure it out in the morning when he came with breakfast, so I flicked off the kitchen light and decided I couldn’t put off a shower any longer.

  In the bathroom, I got undressed while I let the water steam up the room. Just as I put one foot into the shower, my buzzer sounded.

  I sighed. Fisher realized he doesn’t have his key.

  Wrapping a towel around me, I grabbed the key on my way to the front door. Maybe the alcohol had me acting carelessly, but it never even occurred to me that it might be someone other than Fisher. So without checking the peephole, I swung the door open.

  “I know, I know. You forgot your ke—” I froze, finding a man who was definitely not Fisher on the other side of the door.

  Hudson’s brows pulled to a troubled V. “Expecting someone else?”

  ***

  “I, uh, Fisher forgot his key, so I assumed it was him.”

  Hudson and I stood there looking at each other. I felt so rattled after we’d just spoken about him for hours that I didn’t know what to say or do. Hell, I hadn’t known what to say or do for a week now.

  Eventually, he sighed. “Is it alright if I come in?”

  “Oh…yeah, sure. Sorry.”

  I closed the door behind him and tried to regain my wits, but I was so nervous that I couldn’t figure out how to function. Again we stared at each other awkwardly.

  Hudson had to break our silence. “Sorry I didn’t call first.”

  I tightened the corner of my towel. “It’s okay.”

  “Is it? I didn’t call because I figured you would say no if I did, and right about now it feels like it’s not okay for me to be here.”

  I hated that I was making him feel unwelcome. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you. Fisher was over and we drank wine, and I was about to take a quick shower and jump into bed.”