“I am, Ansley,” he said. He was all New York City–slick in his suit and tie and fancy shoes. The men around here would have eaten him for lunch. I bet he’d never even cut his own grass. “I don’t know what I was thinking or what I was doing, but I’ve loved Caroline from the moment I saw her.”
I crossed my arms. I hoped he’d noticed that I had yet to invite him in. “You have a funny way of showing it,” I said.
He looked down at his feet. “I think I must have lost my mind or something.”
I nodded. “Lost your wife, too, so I hope it was worth it.”
He looked shocked. “Do you really think I’ve lost her?”
I was incredulous. “Are you serious? Have you met her?” I still hadn’t invited him in.
“I just want a chance to explain.”
This was where it got good. This was where I made up for all those times I didn’t say what I meant. “I’d like a chance to explain, too,” I said. “I’d like to explain that you have never been good enough for my daughter. I have never thought you were. I’ve always thought you were untrustworthy and slimy and that you tried to buy her love. She always has been and always will be too good for you. I can’t imagine that she would even think about taking you back, but if she asked my opinion, I’d tell her not to.”
It might have been the first time I’d seen James stunned speechless. I opened the door wider and motioned with my arm to let him through.
I waited for that feeling to set in, the one where I felt bad about what I said, where I wished I could take it back somehow. But that feeling never came.
SIXTEEN
pregnancy fetish
caroline
I was almost eighteen by the time we moved to Peachtree. I had already been accepted into NYU summer school and was actively searching for summer jobs or internships in the city. When Mom kidnapped us, forcibly removed us from the center of the universe, and relocated us to the seventh circle of hell, as it seemed to me at the time, I knew I was going to be living there for only a few months. There was no point in getting a license or learning to drive. I was raised having a driver, and I knew the subway system like the back of my hand. That was the beauty of living in Manhattan. It was a pedestrian city.
I was still in the kitchen talking to Sloane and Emerson that day when Mom went to answer the door. I filled them in on the tiny tidbits I’d gained from Mom about Jack. I opened the refrigerator door to look for my coconut yogurt. We were out.
“Hey,” I said, turning back around. “Could one of you take me to the grocery store tomorrow?”
“Caroline, for God’s sake,” Emerson said. “We’re sick of driving you around. You have to get a license.”
“I don’t need a license. You two can take me everywhere.”
Emerson and Sloane looked at each other wearily.
“Can you even imagine that I came to this brand-new world with no Uber? I’m in shock enough, and now you want me to get a driver’s license?”
“Honey, it’s a normal thing. We’re not asking for something crazy here.” Emerson paused. “Plus, I’m pretty sure you won’t want to haul a car seat in and out every time you have to go somewhere.”
Oh, my God. I looked down at my belly. I wasn’t delusional. I knew this baby was coming. I had simply forgotten about all of that. The car seats and the breastfeeding and the sleepless nights. I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I was going to be a single mother. A single mother. It sounded so blue-collar.
I barely got through having Vivi, and James was like Super Dad. How in the hell was I going to do this alone?
Earlier, James had texted me: Hey, Car. I know you’re pissed, but I really want to see Vivi. I’m going to stop by the apartment tonight.
I typed back, rapid-fire: We’re already in Peachtree.
I get the feeling you’re avoiding me.
How astute.
I miss my kid, he typed. You’re coming back by Friday to get ready for school to start, right?
Hmmm . . . Keeping him from getting suspicious was going to be tricky.
I’ll call you tomorrow.
I knew I couldn’t hold him off forever. But if I could make it another week or so . . . I still hadn’t decided whether it would be better to go ahead and tell him now that we were moving for the semester, giving him time for it to soak in, or to spring it on him later. We all knew it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission—unless it negatively affected your upcoming custody case. Then that was a different matter. Part of me wanted to have Vivi tell him, but I knew that was not a good parenting move. I needed to buy more time.
“Yeah, Caroline,” Sloane said. “You might meet the new love of your life if you get your driver’s license.”
I raised an eyebrow. But yeah, the girl knew how to get to me. I was intrigued. “How’s that?”
“Oh, I know,” Emerson said. “Remember how Sloane was always getting speeding tickets when we were younger?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”
Poor Mom.
“You could get pulled over,” Sloane said. “You’re reaching for your license and registration as the sexy cop saunters up to the car and lowers his aviators at you.”
“He has that three-day beard you love,” Emerson said. She paused and added, “And a pregnancy fetish.”
We all laughed. “And you say, ‘Here’s my license and registration, Officer,’?” Sloane said.
Emerson chimed in, “And he says, ‘All I need is your number, little lady.’?”
“And then he takes you out to a beautiful dinner with white tablecloths.”
Emerson scrunched her nose. “No, Sloane. Then he makes out with her on the hood of the cop car.”
Sloane’s turn to scrunch her nose. “Ew, Em. No. Nice dinner.”
They both looked at me as though they were waiting to hear my choice. I smiled. Then I grabbed the laminated sheet out of Emerson’s hand with pictures of all the road signs on it.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I guess I can get my driver’s license.”
“Yay!” Sloane said.
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t like I was getting my PhD.
I heard Mom call, “Caroline!”
I reached up over my head. I was at that point in my pregnancy when my skin wasn’t stretching quickly enough to keep up with my expanding belly, and it felt tight and itchy. Oh, my God, I thought, as I walked through the dining room. What if I get stretch marks? I had been very young when I had Vivi, after all.
Between the dining room and the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks. I hadn’t expected to be caught so off guard. I hadn’t had time to formulate my story, to be charming, to try to finagle my way out of this thing that I had done that was very, very wrong. I had brought Vivi for vacation. That was my story, and I was sticking to it.
“What are you doing here, James?”
He had on my favorite suit, with the loafers I had gotten him for Christmas. Why did he have to look so handsome? It was horrible, adding insult to injury. At least if he had let himself go a little . . . Although if he’d let himself go a little, we wouldn’t be in this mess, because what in the world would Edie Fitzgerald have wanted with him?