“How can you be so sure?”
“When it comes to you, I have no doubts.”
“God, Graham. Why does it hurt so much? I feel like I’ve lost something even though I never had it to lose.” She cried for a long time while I held her. Once the floodgates opened, everything came pouring out. The ache in my chest seeing her distraught was almost more than I could bear. I had to choke back my own tears more than once. When she finally calmed, I wanted so much to tell her I loved her, but I was afraid she would think I only said it because she was upset.
“Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll swing by to have breakfast with Chloe and then come back. The last thing you need is Genevieve right now.”
“But I want to say goodbye to Chloe.”
“Well, then how about this? It’s only a few miles to the house. I’ll take a cab over this morning and have breakfast, so you can spend a few hours in bed. Then when you’re feeling up to it, you can come by and get me, and say goodbye to Chloe.”
She nodded. “I’d like that. I don’t think I can handle Avery and Genevieve for too long.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” I tilted her chin to force her eyes back to mine. “We’re going to get through all of this. I promise. Okay?”
I had no idea at the time, but some promises just couldn’t be kept.
CHAPTER 25
SORAYA
THE HOTEL ROOM WAS TOO QUIET after Graham left. Alone with my thoughts, I picked up the phone and put it down, at least a dozen times. Who would I even call? There was no one I could really count on for an unbiased opinion. My situation was too close to home for my mom or my sister. There was always Delia. But she’d been with Tig since she was fourteen and truly believed in fairytale endings. Her reality didn’t involve a small child, a cunning ex, or growing up with a father who forgot her and a mother who was too sad to leave the house for years.
Faced with slim pickens for genuine guidance on my situation, I did something I never thought I would do—I fired up my laptop.
Dear Ida,
I’ve been dating a man for almost two months who I’ve fallen deeply in love with. A few weeks ago, he found out he has a child with his ex-girlfriend. It’s a sordid tale, but essentially she cheated on him, lied about who the father was, and kept him from knowing his child for years.
Or course, his ex is beautiful, smart, and they share a passion for the business they both work in. In most areas, the two of them are way more compatible than we are together. To make matters worse, she’s made it clear to me that she wants him back.
The problem is, he really cares about me, and I also don’t want to hurt him.
I really need an unbiased opinion here. Should I bow out gracefully and let him have an opportunity to rekindle his relationship with his ex, so that they can be a real family? I love him enough to make that sacrifice.
-Theresa, Brooklyn
Writing the letter had an unexpected cathartic effect on me. I wasn’t expecting Ida to give me any pearls of wisdom. More often than not, her advice was utter crap. But the act of writing the letter seemed to help me put all of my feelings into perspective. It also helped me realize, until the day came where I made a decision to actually bow out, Genevieve wasn’t going to screw with my head anymore.
The drive over to the bitch’s compound, I blasted the music and sang along at the top of my lungs. In the moment, I completely understood why athletes always seemed to have headphones on before an event. They needed to be pumped up to avoid allowing their doubts and fears taking over.
Pulling into the long driveway, I parked and stared at the stately home. It was beautiful out in the Hamptons, but my ass definitely belonged in Brooklyn. Exiting Graham’s car, the front door opened, and a woman walked out. She took one look at me, and an evil smile slowly spread across her flawless face.
“Samira. How lovely of you to come.”
I plastered my best fake smile on to match hers. “Ainsley. So splendid to see you.”
Avery looked amused. She lit a cigarette, which surprised the shit out of me. “What’s it been seven, eight weeks? I’m shocked. Graham usually takes the trash out each Tuesday.”
“You know what they say: one person’s trash is another man’s treasure.”
She sucked a long puff of smoke into her lungs and then proceeded to blow out a half dozen perfect O smoke rings. I hadn’t seen anyone do that since my Uncle Guido quit smoking his filterless Lucky Strikes back in the nineties.
“You know, smoking gives you cancer.” I leaned in and whispered. “And wrinkles.”