I shrugged. “You know me, Adam. I’ll take magic over misery any day.”
He drew in a breath but didn’t seem to exhale, making his words come out in a rush. “I want to tell you that if you let me through the door, there’s a fair chance I’m never going to let you go again.”
They were words I’d longed to hear, but it was somehow wrong. His pained expression soured everything he’d said. It was as if I’d put an invisible gun to his head and made him confess to his deepest, darkest secret.
“Tell me the miserable part.” Hearing it would be nothing more than a formality. Misery had a name. Whitney.
“I’m a realist, Charli.” The small smile he gave was nowhere near as bright as I remembered it being. Ryan was right. There was an emptiness about him. “I wouldn’t cope if I had to endure an ending all over again. The pieces would be too small to pick up a second time.”
Dim Whit hadn’t rated a mention. That would have thrilled me if he weren’t shutting down my fairy-tale ending in the same speech.
“So where do we go from here?” I asked, trying to hold myself together.
He smiled again, more genuinely this time. I held my breath, awaiting his answer but the elevator doors opened, silencing him instantly.
My neighbour, Oliver, stepped out into the tiny foyer we shared, cradling his little white dog like a baby. The spoiled rotten Maltese terrier – aptly named Fluffin – didn’t protest.
Adam turned around and politely said hello.
Oliver shamelessly looked him up and down. “Well, good afternoon,” he crooned. “Don’t mind me,” he said, fumbling in the pockets of his orange and green striped happy pants for his keys. “I’ll be out of your hair in just one sec.”
Nothing was said until Fluffin and Oliver disappeared into their apartment.
“Look, do you want to come inside?” I motioned toward the door behind me.
“I warned you what would happen if you let me in.”
“Having you hold on to me forever doesn’t seem like the worst kind of fate, Adam.”
“You’re impossible to hold,” he said grimly. “That’s always been the problem.”
“You’d be surprised. I’m not so restless anymore.”
He dropped his head. “It’s good to see you, Charli.”
“Well, look at me then!”
Obeying my obnoxious demand, his eyes drifted up to mine. “How long are you planning to stay in New York?”
“I don’t know.” He wasn’t giving me a reason to stay.
“That’s the tragedy,” he said, slightly smugly. “You’re a wanderer.” He turned and punched the button on the elevator.
I knew I had him for only a few more seconds. “Where are you going?”
“Back to my real life, Charli. The one you insisted you didn’t belong in.”
The elevator doors slid open.
Last chance, I thought, punching out a quick question. “Why didn’t you ask me why I’m here?”
“Because it doesn’t matter. Ryan said you’ve been in town over a month. That, and the fact that you hightailed it out of the restaurant as soon as you saw me prove that your reasons for being here have nothing to do with me.”
Furiously I shook my head. “You’re so wrong. I came here for you. I went to your apartment to see you.” The elevator doors closed behind him but he stood statuesque, missing the opportunity to leave. “It took me a year to work up to that moment, Adam.”
“So what happened?”
“Whitney happened.”
In fairness, I shouldn’t have said her name so bitterly. According to Ryan, I’d been the other woman, not her.
“I’m so sorry, Charli.”
I wondered why. Maybe he felt bad that I’d found out about her that way, or maybe his regret was more ancient. The simple truth was that Whitney had been on the scene long before I fell in love with him.
“Do you love her?”
He shook his head, telling me no. He punched the button on the elevator again, harder this time. “I’ve got to go. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Do you think you’re the only one who has something to say? What about the things I need to say?”
“What else is there to say?”
“Look at me,” I ordered. He turned around. I had his complete attention – at least until the elevator arrived again. Of everything I’d planned to tell him, only one sentence came to mind. “I love you.”
It hardly blew him away. Adam stood so still I could see his chest move as he breathed. At least it was proof of life. I could have gone back in to the apartment and brewed a pot of tea in the time it took him to react.
“Say it again,” he said at last.
I couldn’t blame him for thinking he’d misheard me. Those three words had never crossed my lips before – even when I thought he was actually mine and I had the right to say it. Perhaps I’d said it wrong. Sucking in a long breath, I tried again, enunciating every word.
I didn’t even sound sincere. It sounded like I was trying to coax him away from the elevator doors that had just opened again.
His frown softened only slightly. The flash of hope that surged through me was brief. He stepped into the elevator and turned back to face me one last time.
“Stay,” I begged.
His dark blue eyes screamed the saddest apology I’d ever seen. “It would never work, Charli. I’m so sorry.”
The elevator doors closed and Adam Décarie disappeared from my life for a second time.
Picking up and dusting myself off was getting harder to do.
All self-control eluded me. I picked up a scatter cushion off the never-been-sat-on couch and hurled it at the already closed doors. My aim was terrible. It thudded against the picture hanging on the wall by the elevator. It crashed to the floor making enough noise for Oliver to come running out of his apartment, Fluffin in arms.
“You’re probably going to have to pay for that,” he said, trading glances and his pointed finger between the mess on the floor and me.
I stared at him blankly, dumbstruck by the sight of a grown man with curlers in his hair. The sight of Fluffin wearing two curlers in the long fur on top of her head was even more disturbing.
I nodded and slunk backwards through my apartment door.
***
My father’s uncanny knack of calling me the second I entered dire straits was just plain spooky. I had no intention of explaining the afternoon’s events to him but found myself doing it anyway. Alex was so quiet that I had to ask him if he was listening to me.
“Of course I’m listening. Why was the dog wearing curlers?”
“Alex, that’s not the important part. It doesn’t matter why the dog was wearing curlers.”
“No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
It was too late for fatherly concern. The moment was lost thanks to a pampered Maltese terrier called Fluffin. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“I worry about you.”
“Don’t worry about me. At least I know where I stand.”
Alone and fed-up was where I stood, but that was the kind of information that would’ve driven him out to the yard to spend the day chopping wood.
“When are you coming home, Charli?”
“Despite everything, I’m going to stick it out a while longer.”
To Alex, it was a perfectly acceptable answer. It meant I was coping. It showed that I hadn’t hinged everything on Adam and I was capable of moving forward without him. All I had to do now was convince myself.
The reality was that nothing had changed. It had been weeks since I’d discovered that Adam had moved on without me. I’d left it alone and begun to heal. Seeing him again was like ripping a scab off an old wound. Being told he wasn’t going to stay was like having a limb amputated with a rusty blade. Every dealing I’d had with him since arriving in New York had left me more injured. If I were to survive, I had to take Mitchell’s advice, cut all ties and put it to bed.
***
I was woken the next morning by a knock at the door. The longer I ignored it, the more urgent the loud rapping became. Unable to stand the persistent noise any longer, I got dressed, dragged a brush through my hair and made my way to the door.
I hadn’t put any thought in to who it might be – probably because I knew who it wouldn’t be. Standing at my door was an elderly woman I recognised as one of my neighbours. I’d passed her in the main foyer a few times. The light brown shirt – which she wore tucked in to her beige elastic waisted slacks – matched the colour of her teeth perfectly. The only spark of colour was coming from the flashing Santa badge pinned to her chest. I hoped she wasn’t going to ask if she could borrow a cup of sugar. I didn’t have any. I didn’t even have a cup to put the imaginary sugar in.
“Good morning,” she greeted. “My name is Mrs Edwin. I live in apartment thirteen.”
I smiled politely. “Hello.”
She cleared her throat before continuing her well-rehearsed speech. “It’s come to the attention of the board that there was an incident in this foyer yesterday afternoon.” She pointed to the empty hook on the wall near the elevator. “Some artwork was damaged during a dispute.”
Her choice of words was laughable. A one-sided tantrum could hardly be considered a dispute. And I’d recognised Gabrielle’s signature on the bottom of the fallen picture. Talented yes. Picasso, no.
“I’ll replace it,” I offered, wondering how long it would take for Gabrielle to send me another one.
“I was hoping you’d be a reasonable young lady.” She grinned, exposing her horsey teeth and handed me a folded piece of paper. “I trust you’ll rectify it quickly.”
Probably not as quickly as Oliver had ratted me out, I thought.
The paper she’d handed me was an invoice.
I gasped. “Four hundred dollars? That’s highway robbery! I know the artist. She’ll replace the picture.”
Mrs Edwin shook her head. “The concern is not with the picture. The replacement value of the frame is four hundred dollars.” I refolded the paper and tried handing it back to her. She pushed it away, refusing to take it. “Perhaps next time you’ll keep your temper in check.”
“I can’t pay this right now,” I complained.
She dropped her head and looked at me from above her gold-rimmed glasses. “We’re a close community in this building. It’s important to remain in good standing. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Defeated, I sighed. “Wait here, please,” I instructed, retreating back into my apartment.
It nearly killed me to dip in to my precious travel money but the last thing I wanted was to make enemies of my neighbours. I returned to the door and handed Mrs Edwin the wad of cash.
She thanked me and counted it – out loud. “You’ve been most reasonable, Miss Blake. It’s greatly appreciated. If there are any further expenses, I shall let you know.”
“Thanks so much,” I replied sardonically.
She began to wish me a Merry Christmas but I stepped back inside and closed the door in her face before she got the words out.
Seven hundred and twelve dollars was the sum total of my wealth after I’d paid for my criminal damage. On the plus side, it meant there was no time to hide away and dwell on my train-wreck love life. I was back on the job hunt.
Landing a job took no time at all. I was a bit savvier this time around. I embellished nothing and didn’t even have to lie. Thanks to my short stint at Nellie’s, I was an experienced server.
I was now waitressing at a midtown restaurant called Mama Sicily’s. I had no idea who Mama was. I was interviewed by a man called Roger who didn’t look Italian at all. I cornered him outside while he was having a cigarette break. He agreed to hire me, told me I could start the next day and dissolved into a vile coughing fit.
***
My life in New York was rollercoaster of ebbs and flows.
I returned to my apartment full of the hope that had all but disappeared the day before. My lone celebration consisted of a bunch of fresh flowers bought from the newsstand at the end of my block. I was still arranging them in my makeshift vase (a water bottle I’d cut in half) when someone knocked on my door, bringing on the next ebb.
“Go away,” I called from the kitchen. “I’ve got no more money.”
“Priscilla, open the door.”
Dealing with Ryan seemed slightly less grating than Mrs Edwin, but I was still annoyed with him. The whole saga of the day before was essentially his fault.
“What do you want?” I asked, opening the door just wide enough to see him.
Ryan flashed the trademark, knee-weakening Décarie grin. I was so over that grin. “I’m here to apologise.” He produced a huge bouquet that put mine to shame. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Relenting, I took the flowers. “Be my guest,” I muttered, stepping aside.
Ryan stood in the centre of the barren lounge room and turned around in a full circle. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Very funny.”
“No, I’m serious. It looks great now Gabrielle’s not in it.”
“Ryan, why are you here?” Perhaps he wanted his frying pan back.
“Like I said, I came to apologise. What I did yesterday was pretty low, even for me.”
“It ended badly,” I told him, standing in the kitchen, butchering another water bottle to house my new flower arrangement.
“Don’t you have a vase?” he asked, wincing as I hacked through the plastic.
“Yes, but I only use it on special occasions.”
His laugh echoed in the empty apartment, and as hard as I fought against doing it, I laughed too. He walked to the lounge room window, pushed the sheer curtains aside and studied the unimpressive view of the building next door.
“Adam will come round, Charli.”
“No. We’re done. And I’m fine with it.”
Ryan turned back to me, and wisely decided against questioning my change of heart. “I have a gift for you.” He reached into his pocket. “I want to make peace.”
“You don’t need to make peace. I forgive you.”
He placed a small white box on the kitchen counter and slid it to me. “Open it, please.”
“You should know I’m not good with presents. Adam once gave me a very expensive necklace,” I explained, refusing to touch the box.
“Did you lose it?”
“No, I sold it to some African gangsters.”
Ryan chuckled darkly. “I’m not shocked by that at all.” He tapped the lid of the box with his finger. “This gift is practically worthless.”
I’d heard that lie before, but ignoring my reservations I picked up the box and peered inside. Amongst the tissue paper lay a plastic name badge.
“Adam told me you preferred Charli over Charlotte.”
“Adam was right.”
“So you’ll withdraw your resignation?” He frowned as I shook my head.
“I’ve already taken another job.”
“But you were the most devious, crooked, underhanded waitress I’ve ever had. It’s worth keeping you around just for entertainment purposes.”
I should have been insulted, but it was a fair description of my career at Nellie’s.
“Yeah, well, I’m trying to change my ways,” I muttered. “What did Paolo say when you ran it by him?”
“He cried a little bit,” he teased. “Taylor didn’t have a problem with me rehiring you. I asked everyone else’s opinion but no one in the kitchen seemed to know who you were.”
I couldn’t be sure that he was joking. It all sounded completely plausible.
“Well, I’m Mama Sicily’s problem now. I start tomorrow.” I picked up the water bottle vase and carried it to the corner of the room, setting it down on the floor. I took a step back to admire it. The glorious display looked like a glimpse of spring in middle of winter.
“Who do you owe money to?” asked Ryan recalling my hostile greeting at
the door.
I explained my run-in with Mrs Edwin, and the reason behind it – omitting Fluffin and Oliver’s hairdos. Alex had had trouble focusing on the main story once I’d filled his head with that mental image. I didn’t want to make the same mistake with Ryan.
“You’ve settled the debt,” he told me. “She can’t come back for more.”
“Huh?”
Straightening his pose, he brushed his hands together as if he was dusting them off. “Fait accompli, Charli.”
“You sound like a French lawyer,” I accused, scrunching up my nose.
“I am a French lawyer.”
I choked. “Why are you running a restaurant then?”
“Everyone needs a hobby.”
“That’s your hobby?”
He smiled but didn’t look at me. “No. It’s what I do. I liked the idea of picking up a failing business and making it successful. We turn over a lot of money.”
I spoke without thinking. “You don’t need the money.”
“You’re right, we don’t,” he agreed, miffed. “But when money is no object, how do you measure success, Charli?”
I had no answer for him. It wasn’t a predicament someone with seven hundred dollars to their name ever was ever likely to face.
“Adam is studying law.” It was a stupid thing to say. It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know.
“Like a trooper,” he jibed.
“It’s not a very creative choice of career, is it?”
One of my favourite things about Ryan was his sense of humour. If it were possible to push him over the edge, I hadn’t yet managed to do it. “What can I say? It makes our mother happy.”
Ryan didn’t strike me as the type who’d undertake a law degree to make his mother happy. He’d invited a girl his mother detested to a family lunch, sheerly to rattle her cage.
“Trite.”
“It’s the truth, Charli. She’s shallow.” His wily expression made it impossible for me to tell whether he was joking.
“Is Adam studying law, to make his mother happy?” I cringed as I said his name. I’d mentioned him far too many times for someone claiming to be over him.
“Adam has a tendency to toe the line rather than break the rules and go after what he really wants. That’s why you’re here alone, right?”