I think of the tears Emma has shed for something that was never in her control. Nothing is worth that; I know it now. No amount of excuses can absolve what I did, and if there’s even a sliver of a chance that it can touch this little guy, I’m not willing to take it.
Tears gather in my throat and eyes and I swallow to bury them—not that Nicky notices. “Your dad loves you very much. He isn’t like my dad. He’ll never leave you, and I bet your mom loves you equally, if not more. And you know what, your dad loves your mom just as much as he loves you. So…don’t worry about anything.” I sniff. “I’m sorry for whatever damage I did.” I lean over and kiss his forehead. He gurgles out a laugh. “This is the last time we’ll see each other, so take care, okay? I’ll never forget you.”
With one last look at him, I stand up and find myself face to face with the most beautiful and fragile-looking woman I’ve ever seen. Hadley.
She’s…She’s back.
She. Is. Back. Just as I thought she would be. I always knew it, but still, it seems incredible. I want to laugh, and then I want to cry.
Before I really do any of that, the situation becomes glaring.
I’m practically a stranger and I was rambling to her baby like a deranged person. She is studying me with gorgeous golden eyes and I feel so ashamed. So naked.
I’m the girl sleeping with your husband. Me. I’m the one who fell in love with him, who dreams about him, who will probably keep dreaming about him for the rest of her life. So, you can kill me if you want to. In fact, I’d advise that myself.
“You’re good with him,” she says in her classic, melodic voice.
“What?” I squeak. In comparison, I’m a hyena with broken vocal cords.
“With Nicholas. You’re good with him.”
The musical notes of her voice stumble over the name of her son, going off-key. Now that the initial shock of seeing Thomas’ love in the flesh is gone, I study her with as much objectivity as I can.
Her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed, and her blonde hair, though beautiful and smooth, looks too threadbare. She has on a large white sleep robe that swallows her petite body. She appears even more fragile than the last time I saw her, but she seems at peace. She glows with an odd light.
This is the woman who left her seven-month-old baby alone and went away. This is the woman who left Thomas. I want to shake her, shout at her. In this moment, I’m so fucking jealous, so angry. She has everything that I want and she doesn’t even care.
Before my anger turns harsher, I remind myself that I’m in the wrong here. I took what belonged to her. I have no right to feel this way.
“I, uh, I’ve got no experience with kids, but Nicky makes it easy, I guess.” I add, “You have a beautiful family.”
She stiffens at my answer, and I regret saying the last part. My anger was apparent just then. Maybe even my jealousy…I don’t know. I need to leave before I blow our cover and make trouble for Thomas.
Just then, I hear Susan coming back. “Here.” She thrusts a book at me and I stare at it in confusion. “The book. It was right on the desk and I was looking for it everywhere.” When I still don’t take it, she goes on, “Thomas doesn’t like when someone touches his books, but you must be failing pretty badly in class if he wanted you to have it for the exams, no?”
There’s a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes, and I wonder how she is even capable of it at a moment like this. I take the book. “O-kay.”
I practically run out of there and speed walk until the house is out of sight. Then I come to a stop in the middle of the road and look up. The sun is out, and I can’t remember the last time it was sunny like this. It feels like it’s been ages since I saw the sun.
The world is brighter, and I feel that I did something right. I restored all the balance I’d tipped. The broken rules are patched up. The universe is right again.
I send a wish up in the clear sky. Please, let Hadley be back for good this time. Please give Thomas what he wants. Please God.
And then I cry all the way back to my tower. I hate the fucking sun.
It’s Sunday night and I’m alone in the apartment. Two months ago I would have used this time to binge on Twizzlers and porn. I’m still bingeing on Twizzlers, but instead of porn, I’m typing like the wind.
My fingers are flying on the keyboard, words pouring out of me, and I’m thinking, No one has ever written a story like this. For weeks, I’ve had this girl in my head. She is loud. She has a neon green backpack. She is adventurous and she wants to see the world. Her name is Eva. For weeks, I ignored her, because hello, I want to be a poet, not a fiction writer. Fiction writers are lame. Poets are geniuses. They change the world. They make you think. They are magical. Like Thomas.
But I can’t ignore her anymore. I can’t ignore her need to take shape. Besides, I know if I don’t write, I’ll never stop crying. I might even slip back to my destructive ways. I might drink all the liquor and smoke all the pot, and then I’d die, and I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to write.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Then, I hear a shrill noise—my phone. I jump and turn around at my desk. My room has exploded. Clothes and books and empty candy boxes are on every surface. I have half a mind to let it go to voicemail, but for some unknown reason, I don’t.
The noise is coming from my bed, and I dive for the phone before the ringing stops. It’s an unknown number but I pick it up anyway. “Hello?”
A growly voice crackles through, making my heart flounder. “Layla.”
“Th-Thomas?” My legs give out, and I plop on the bed.
“Are you alone right now?”
“Yes.” I look around as if checking, as if I didn’t already know I was alone.
“Open your door.”
“You mean, my front door?” I stand and walk to the threshold of my room, eyeing my closed front door in confusion.
“Yes, your front door.”
“O-Okay.”
There comes a long sigh. “You should probably also tell me which door is yours.” His voice somehow sounds both indulgent and self-deprecating, like he’s ashamed that he doesn’t already know which door is mine.
“The last apartment on the right.”
“What floor?” he asks patiently.
“Uh, t-top floor.”
His laugh is broken and sad, full of resignation, and I don’t even know how a laugh can be all of that. He clicks off the call before I can ask him anything else.
I’m glued to my spot, watching the door. Shouldn’t he be in New York? Oh no. I’m worried that maybe he found out about me going to his place this morning, but before I can completely freak out and lose my shit, a knock comes, commanding and loud. My phone falls to the floor, my legs break into motion, and I throw the door open.