24. Lizzie
24
LIZZIE
I t’s hard leaving Isaac with Mrs. Loughty, but I can’t allow the opportunity to see a studio pass me by. If the slightest chance I can make my dream a reality becomes available, I’m going to take it. There is, however, the matter of the hospital bill to take care of. I check my email for the first time in days, only to find out that my final payment hasn’t gone through. Shoot. I’ll have to get in touch with them when I get back.
The last few days with Isaac have been filled with feedings, changings, and sleeping. Even though I’m not ready to be apart from him for too long, it still feels good to get out of the apartment and breathe some fresh air.
I splurge on an Uber, mostly because Pippa told me to, and I’m only too happy to oblige. Walking is still a chore, considering the whole “I just gave birth” thing.
When the car pulls up outside of the studio building, I love it instantly. I can see large windows overlooking the city, and the street below appears to be taken care of. There’s a cute coffee shop on the ground level, and I can’t help but picture myself grabbing an iced coffee in the mornings before opening my studio for the day. I think I even smell fresh bagels.
“Please be affordable, please be affordable,” I repeat to myself as I head inside.
Vivienne, the real estate agent, is waiting for me when I step out of the elevator. “Elizabeth!” she exclaims in her New York accent. “You look fantastic . You sure you just had a baby?”
“Please, call me Lizzie.” I wince at the soreness in my body as I slowly make my way to her. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure. Thanks for calling.”
“Well, Lizzie, when I saw this place was available, I knew it was exactly what you were looking for.” She slides her arm around mine, allowing me to lean my weight against her as we walk. “Now, it’s not as big as you were hoping, but that just means the price is within your range. But before we get into the specifics, you better have brought me a pic of that little one.”
Chuckling, I unlock my phone and bring up a picture of Isaac. “I’ve taken a million pics.”
They always say new parents get pic-crazy. Guess what? They do.
She takes the phone from me, her bright-red manicured nails tapping the screen as she scrolls through the photos of my son. “Oh. My. Gawd! Look at him! He’s so precious.”
She fusses over the pictures as we walk, and as much as I love sharing photos of my son, I only have a limited time I’m willing to be away from him. I want to see the place quickly. Not only to get back to him, but because I’m so anxious to check out the studio.
We reach the door, and I retrieve my phone so Vivienne can unlock the place. As soon as we step inside, I fall in love—seriously, I’m head over heels, just as I expected.
It’s wonderful.
The front entry is small but has a small closet for coats and enough space to fit a few benches. In the main studio space, it’s wide open with beautiful hardwood floors that need a bit of TLC but are otherwise impressive. Along one wall are the windows I noticed from the outside, which cast the room in beautiful natural light. The opposite wall is painted concrete but could easily be outfitted with mirrors and ballet barres.
“As I said, space-wise it’s not as large as you wanted, but I think it’s a great start.” Vivienne begins the sales pitch as I slowly stroll around the space. “It more than makes up for it in storage. Through that door there’s a hallway with a large closet, small bathroom, and office space…”
Her words fade into the background, and I lose myself in the visuals my mind conjures. I can see myself directing a group of young people eager to learn modern ballet—a beautiful combination of classical ballet and modern dance techniques. Then, when the sun goes down, I teach a modern dance class for working adults who can’t get to me during the day.
When Isaac gets older, I could bring him along, and he could learn too. We could dance together in the space, or I could chase him in between classes as he runs around, his blue eyes wide with enthusiasm…
“How much?” I ask, cutting Vivienne’s speech off in my excitement.
“Okay…”
“You said it’s within my range, no?”
When she tells me the rent cost, I try not to grow discouraged.
It is in my range but definitely on the higher side. On the much higher side. There would be a lot of work that needs to happen before it would even be remotely ready to open. Even as I walk around, I notice small things that add to the list. The lighting is minimal and would need to be updated. The bathroom needs a complete overhaul, and half the shelves in the storage closet are missing or broken. As each repair stacks up, my heart sinks further.
I can’t afford it.
It would take almost all my money for the deposit alone, and then what? I’d have to immediately return to work at the Sinner’s Lounge to not only keep up the rent but also pay for repairs. Waitressing is good money, but in order to keep up with everything, I’d have to go on stage again—which I would rather not do if it could be avoided.
“How long do I have to think it over?” I ask.
“Well, it’s New York real estate, Lizzie. I can’t hold it too long without some kind of commitment.”
“You mean deposit.”
She nods.
I scan the space once more and sigh. It’s perfect. But expensive. “Give me at least a few days to get my stuff together,” I say. “Will that work?”
“For you, Lizzie. I can do that.”
I leave the studio a few minutes later, dejected. I’ve got no idea what to do or how to go about getting the place. I don’t want to let the opportunity pass me by, but I’d have to rent the studio without having enough money to get it up and running for at least a year. Which means I’d have to work my ass off paying for it and my normal day-to-day expenses.
Mrs. Loughty has already offered to watch Isaac while I work, which will save me money on childcare. But she isn’t the youngest anymore, and as he gets older, I know it will be harder for her to keep up with him.
I need to take a walk to clear my head. It isn’t until I get a few steps from the building that I realize I’m right around the corner from Amelio’s.
Memories rush into my mind. I can’t help but think about the night with Dillan, and though I can’t afford to eat there, I find myself peeking inside. I know, of course, he won’t be there. It’s early, and he’s working at this hour.
I step inside.
Surveying the restaurant, I find the place where he sat all those months ago. An elderly lady with a feather hat is there, sipping a cup of tea. Dillan is nowhere in sight, as expected.
Before I can turn around and leave, the bartender catches my eye and says, “Signorina, there you are! Dr. Maxwell has been asking for you.”
Confused and intrigued, I give him my attention. “I’m sorry?”
He smiles at me. “I never forget a face.”
It takes me completely by surprise that the bartender not only remembers who I am after almost a year and the briefest of encounters but seems acquainted with Dillan. “You know Dr. Maxwell?”
The bartender nods. “Yes, signorina, he’s a regular here.” His English still bears the charming Italian accent from our initial encounter. “He started coming in more frequently after your rendezvous. He asked about you at least two or three times, and I told him you weren’t a regular. I think he was hoping to run into you.”
“I’ve been here once before asking about him,” I admit, “but the bartender didn’t know who I was talking about.”
“Ah, si, you must be referring to Sergio. Yes, he’s the new guy… well, not exactly fresh off the boat anymore, been here a minute. We swap shifts now and then, and lately, he’s been on the earlier slot.”
My mind is doing pirouettes with this news. It catches me completely off balance, and I’ve got no idea how to process it.
I mean, seriously? Who could have predicted this?
So, wait. The man I’ve fallen for, the one I’ve struggled to get in contact with, has been trying to contact me this entire time?
More puzzle pieces start falling into place.
I think back to that night at the club, and it finally clicks: his presence there was purely a coincidence. If he’s still coming here, hoping to run into me, then he must not have recognized me at the club! If he did, he could have easily found me at work at any time. And he couldn’t reach me by phone from my patient file, because my phone is no longer active.
Has this whole thing just been a giant mix-up? Were Dillan and I apart purely out of ridiculous circumstances and not because we wanted it that way?
My heart swells at the notion, and the bartender’s next words send me into an emotional tailspin.
“You actually just missed him not too long ago.”
What are the chances? It seems Dillan and I are always one step behind or ahead of each other. Fate, what the flippity flop?
“Did he say where he was going?” I try not to get my hopes up (totally getting my hopes up).
The bartender shakes his head. “No, it appears he’s departed in haste. He seemed quite pressed for time.”
Probably had a patient to deal with. Classic.
Feeling dejected for the second time in less than an hour, I decide to hand the bartender a note with my email address.
“My phone is disconnected, but the next time Dr. Maxwell shows up, will you please give him this?”
“Absolutely, I will see to it. Luigi, at your service.”
I reach into my pocket to get a tip ready, but he stops me.
“Please, signorina, don’t even consider it. Some of the waitstaff and I have been placing bets on your rendezvous, akin to something out of Sleepless in Seattle . I’ve been the lone optimist in this bet, but it seems my odds have just shot up.”
Feeling lighter than I had earlier, I just have to laugh. This whole thing is a giant clusterfuck of swaying emotions.
Every time I think I’m over Dillan, he pops into my life again. I’ve tried so hard to forget him and move on, but that’s proven impossible. Not only because I know in my heart my feelings run deeper than any silly crush or infatuation, but also because of my baby. How can I forget the man I love when I’m greeted by our son’s face every day?
I t seems the day isn’t done throwing me unearthly curveballs. I’ve barely stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk when the front doors of my building burst open. Rex comes barreling out, swearing and muttering to himself. His nose looks crooked. Is it bleeding? I’m too shocked at his appearance to really think about why he’s here.
“What happened to your face?” I ask when he stumbles toward me.
“You don’t owe me anything anymore,” he huffs, ignoring my question. “And you don’t have to worry about me bothering you.”
I understand his words, and yet, they don’t make sense to me. “Not that I’m complaining but, why? What happened?”
“Don’t worry about it. The car thing is all set.”
“Wait, what?”
“It’s paid. Don’t ask fucking questions. Have a nice life.”
Baffled, I watch him hurry away. What the hell is going on today? Is it a full moon or something?
I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and with my body screaming at me to rest, I shrug off Rex’s weird behavior and head inside the building. I press the button for the elevator, tapping my foot as I impatiently wait for it to come down.
T he elevator takes an eternity. As I step into the hallway, I can hear muffled voices coming from inside the apartment, which causes me to furrow my brow. Mrs. L never has visitors, except for her best friend, and the second voice I hear is too deep to be female.
For the thousandth time that day, my world is rocked when I enter the apartment. Mrs. L is standing at the stove making tea, while Dillan sits on her plastic-covered sofa holding Isaac.
Wait.
Dillan is here?
I instantly freeze at the sight, thoroughly unprepared for my son’s father to be sitting there holding him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Our eyes meet, and the world around me and Dillan melts away.
I’m sure Mrs. L says something, but all I hear is the blood rushing in my ears.
“Oh, hi Dillan,” I can’t think of anything else to say.
“Hi Lizzie,” he says.
“What are you doing here?”
Dillan rises to his feet and carefully places Isaac in his cradle. “I came to see you, actually.”
Hold on.
Let me process this.
I take a beat to gather my thoughts.
Somehow, he got wind of my address after all (and I honestly don’t care how), and on his way here to see me… “You happened to cross paths with my charming ex,” I conclude with a smirk.
Mrs. L nods with a wry smile. “Ah, yes, quite the charmer, indeed. Got his just desserts, didn’t he?”
Well, that explains Rex’s speedy retreat. No wonder he wanted to vanish into thin air. I find myself wondering just what the hell he said to Dillan to make him punch him like that.
Dillan has never been the aggressive type.
My shoulders drop, and gratitude fills my heart. “Thank you for settling the bill with him. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no trouble.” Dillan shrugs with a soft smile.
“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets.
Watching him standing there, he reminds me so much of that boy from school, all cute and earnest. And his generosity? It just makes my heart melt.
“We’re just about to feed the little one, dear,” Mrs. L chimes in, snapping me out of my momentary lapse before I nearly start tearing up. I’ll definitely pay him back asap, but for now, I’ll just appreciate it.
“If you two need a moment”—she actually winks at me. And by winks, I mean she squeezes her right eye together so hard that her mouth opens wide. It’s hilarious—“I’ll get his bottle.”
“No, no, that’s okay.” As much as I appreciate her help, Dillan and I need to be alone.
Because, well, this is it.
He has tracked me down and come all this way to see me—he needs to know about Isaac. There’s no way I can reconnect with him yet again without telling him the truth. “Thank you, Mrs. Loughty. I really appreciate you watching Isaac for me.”
I make a move to reach for Isaac’s baby bag, but Dillan gets there first. “I’ll help you.”
It’s like I’m in a dream. Watching the father of my child be so gentle and careful makes my heart ache with want. Together, we gather Isaac’s things and push his stroller down the hall to my apartment.
My heart races.
I know there’s no turning back now.