Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MAIA
I t was lust at first sight.
I continue my story up until…well, today. Once I’m done, I realize Tiggy isn’t crying but watching me with some sort of admiration.
“See, you’re so strong.You don’t need any of us to help you when you’re breaking down.”
“That’s a silly thing to say. Humans are social creatures. We can’t survive on our own. I lean on other people. That’s different. Mom and Dad…well, they have high expectations. I don’t want to disappoint them.”
“I hate that they see me as a problem now.”
“You’re not,” I assure her, but I can’t promise they don’t see her as a problem because I don’t know what our parents think.
Once I left the house, I just decided to show them how perfect I was so they wouldn’t drag me back home. But I wish I could call Mom and tell her that I had a bad day at work or that my latest date was the worst I’ve had in a long time or…we just don’t talk much about me.
“Sometimes, whenMom sends stuff to Suzie because she’s having a bad day or her son is sick, I resent them. I never get anything from Mom, not since I left Georgia. And it’s my fault because she doesn’t know when I’m hurting. I make sure not to breathe a word to her—or any of you.”
“Why?”
“If I had listened to them, I wouldn’t have fallen for Gatsby.”
The words seem so empty. I might hate him, but those days with him were some of the happiest of my life. Working with him and learning so much from him about life and computers has been one of the best experiences of my life.
Until he left me, and I felt like my parents were going to take away my freedom for being so stupid.
And that fear is still tucked somewhere in my head. It’s the voice that keeps telling me that I have to appear perfect to them.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t hear the doorbell.
“Do you think that’s Bram?”
“What?”
“The door,” she whispers.
“No. He’s in jail or the hospital. I’m not sure.”
There’s a flicker of panic in her eyes. “So, it was him outside?”
Holding her hand, I nod. “Yes. Gatsby sent a bodyguard to protect you, and that man disposed of him. You’re safe from Bram…but not from your thoughts. I wish you’d let me help you.”
The doorbell rings again.
“Let me get it,” I say, unfolding myself, stretching, and getting out of the closet.
She laughs for the first time since…well, since we picked her up from the hospital a couple of years ago. “You’re moving like Grandma.”
“Well, we’re not children anymore,” I mumble, making my way to the door. I don’t say that I was sitting on top of some shoes and they hurt my ass. She can have all the fun she wants.
When I open the door, I realize that the sun is beginning to set, and Lloyd holds a takeout bag. “Mr. Spearman sent this, and he’d like you to call him.”
“Thank you, is…what happened with Bram?”
“He’s in jail. You don’t have to worry about him. How’s your sister?”
“She’s doing better.”
“If you don’t need me, I’ll be heading home.” He hands me a business card. “Call me if you want us to come around or when you’re ready to head to the airport.”
“Thank you.”
“Who was it?” Tiggy asks once I close the door.
“The bodyguard Gatsby hired. We have food.”
She smiles. “Do you think there are fries in there?”
“I doubt anyone knows that we have an eclectic taste for junk food.”
Of course, Gatsby has to prove me wrong. The bag has containers of cheese fries and ice cream. He knows that my sisters and I like to indulge in junk food—but not just any.
“You order that?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Would you lend me some money so I can go to a center where they might be able to help me?”
“I’ll pay for it. You know I would do anything for you. If only you let me.”
“Mom and Dad always talk about you as if you’re perfect. I feel so inferior.”
“They only know what I let them see. I’m a mess. A lonely mess,” I confess, swallowing the tears because the last thing she needs is a sobbing sister when she needs a rock to lean on.
“You need to try these fries. They’re delicious.”
I pull out my phone and text Gatsby.
Maia: Thank you for the fries.
Gatsby: How’s your sister?
Maia: Better. She’s going to let me help her. I need to make a few calls so I can find a good rehab place for her.
Gatsby: Let me ask my sister.
Maia: Your sister?
Gatsby: Fern runs a nonprofit. We have a safe house for victims of domestic abuse. Though there are therapists on-site, we have sent some of the people who come to us to long-term facilities where they can get more help.
Maia: Please send me the information.
Gatsby: I’ll do so, and if you need a ride to take her there, let me know. I’ll have the jet ready for you.
Maia: I hate you, even when sometimes I miss you and I can’t forget you.
I stare at the message and delete it.
“Are you okay?” Tiggy asks.
“Yeah, I just sent a message to Gatsby.”
“You still love him after what he did to you?”
“I’m not in love with him. The memories of what we had still linger around, and sometimes they make me sad.”
We decide to watch a movie while we eat in silence.
I can’t believe Mom still has the VCR and DVD player from so long ago.
We put on the Little Mermaid , which is one of my favorite movies.
It’s good to see Tiggy dance and laugh for a change.
It’s when Ariel brushes her hair with a fork that my phone rings.
I don’t pause the movie but go to the kitchen to answer it.
“Hi.”
“I emailed you the list. Fern put the one she thinks will have an opening on top. If you need her to call, let me know.”
“Where is it?”
“Close to Eugene, Oregon.If you want, the jet can fly you tomorrow—or whenever she’s ready.”
We could spend the weekend at my parents’ house, pretending we’re teenagers, the way we used to do when Mom and Dad had to fly to Miami, and I was in charge of my sisters.
I’ll just skip the reheating leftovers and order takeout all weekend.
Except… “I need to be in New York Monday morning,” I mumble.
“What a coincidence, me too.”
Of course he does, just like every other person in our business. “Conference?”
“Yep. We could share a ride,” he says with a flirty tone that almost makes me shiver.
I need to put a stop to this madness. We’re not friends. In fact, he’s my enemy. “That’s a kind offer, and I appreciate what you’re doing for us.”
“But?”
“First, I need to figure out what’s going to happen to my sister.”
“If you want to talk later, I’m here.” Why does he have to be so nice?
“Thank you, see you around,” I mumble.
When I go back to the living room, my sister is staring at me curiously. “Are you okay?”
“Sure,” I mumble, checking my email. “There’s a center in Eugene that might have a place for you. We can go on Monday if you want.”
She stares at me. “No.”
“Okay, that’s totally fine. I don’t want to pressure you.”
“Can we go sooner?”
I smile because this is the Tiggy I grew up with, the one who couldn’t wait to start a new adventure or do something new. “Let me make a few calls.”
And I might not like Gatsby Spearman, but I’m thankful for everything he’s done today. If only he could find all the pieces of my broken heart and give them back to me, I might forgive him.