Chapter 57 Ari
Ari
Three days after my daddy came home from work to find the entire street lined with news vans, we pull up to the Atlanta house with only our suitcases and frayed nerves.
We all stare at it with the same expression—eyes wide open, jaws dropped.
It’s massive with a long driveway, large gates, and pale stone that gleams in the sunlight.
Dorinda’s SUV is already parked out front. When she sees that we’ve arrived, she walks out with a clipboard and that no-nonsense expression that somehow makes me feel perfectly safe.
“I had it furnished,” she says like it’s no big deal. “Decorating can come later at your discretion. I don’t know your taste.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Thanks for doing that.”
She leads us inside, where everything looks and smells brand new. It’s gorgeous. The kind of house that people photograph for magazines.
My parents take slow looks around, still in awe. Dorinda tells me the gate guard has already been instructed that nobody gets in without prior approval.
I thank her. She gives me a stiff hug before heading out, reminding me that I can call her at any time.
When the door closes behind her, Daddy locks it, and silence settles in.
I wander around the kitchen, running my fingers over the cool marble countertop. Just outside the patio doors, I see a deck and a large pool. It’s beautiful. All of it.
I still don’t feel like myself, and now I’m in yet another unfamiliar place. But something about this house feels comforting.
Maybe it’s that Vincent put me here.
My mom sets her purse on the counter, then brings me a bottle of water.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
I take a few long swigs, then sit my big self on a counter stool. “Confused.”
“Why is that?”
“He’s still engaged to that other lady. He hasn’t even mentioned leaving her.”
She sighs. “Give him some—“
“Time. Yeah. That’s what everybody keeps saying.” I blow out a breath. “I’m not trying to be selfish, but I’m pregnant and alone and dealing with a lot right now.”
Daddy sits next to me at the island. “He’s had enough time.”
“The man’s still going to funerals!” My mother says. “I saw pictures of one today.”
“Where?”
She shrugs. “Shara sends me links to all the blogs.”
“Don’t take but a minute to send a text,” Daddy says.
My mother shoots him a look, but he doesn’t back down. He never does.
We all end up in the living room on the world’s coziest sectional couch. They’re watching Judge Judy and I’m watching my eyelids when my phone buzzes.
My sister.
“Hey.”
“Did you see it?” she asks, no greeting at all.
“See what?”
She texts me a link, which I open without thinking.
It’s a video on The Shade Spot.
It’s Vincent, that woman, and their kid, all leaving a park. A voice from behind the camera shouts, “Villain, are you happy to be reunited with your family?”
And, clear as day, he says, “Of course.”
And something inside me breaks.
I put the phone down and start to cry.
My father sits up and grabs my phone, frowning at the screen, then at my mother. Without a word, he calls my sister back.
“Why would you send her that?” he demands.
I sniff, shaking my head. “It’s okay, Daddy.”
“No the hell it ain’t!” His lips curl. “Don’t do that shit again, hear?”
He tosses the phone on the cushion and sits down next to me, pulling me into his arms. That surprises me more than the video did. My stoic, reserved father pulling me close and letting me cry on into his chest. I haven’t done that in as long as I can remember.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “I promise.”
I nod against him, not trusting my own voice.
Maybe I’m being selfish, I don’t know. It’s like I don’t even trust myself anymore to understand my own feelings.
All I know is that this isn’t the ending I envisioned when I was on that island. I figured we’d be rescued, especially when I thought about giving birth. But this? This doesn’t feel like I was rescued at all.
It feels like I’ve been thrown into the sea without a life raft.
After dinner, I retreat to my bedroom and the comfort of my queen-sized bed.
The mattress is insanely comfortable, like laying on a cloud.
I’m not feeling the stark white walls around me, though.
They’re begging for art. Makes me miss my condo.
It looked exactly how I wanted it to look. It took years to get it just right.
And now I’ll probably never be able to live in it again.
My next door neighbor Julia texted me to tell me the media has been camped out there for days. Well, first she told me she was happy I was alive, then she started in about the inconvenience to the complex.
But I can’t think about that right now.
I stare at my phone, confused. Luca hasn’t called or texted. His last text was about dinner nine months ago.
I dial his number.
“Wow,” is his greeting. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
Frowning, I sit up so I can concentrate. I sense some fuckery afoot.
“Yep. I’m alive.”
It’s quiet, then he says, “You are.”
“Does that…mean anything to you?”
“I mean, yeah. Of course. I guess I just didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“Why would you think that?”
He chuckles softly. “You serious right now?”
“Yes. Before I left, we were dating, were we not?”
“We were,” he agrees. “So you can imagine my surprise when I read that you came back pregnant.”
My hand instinctively goes to my belly. “About that—“
“We don’t have to get into it,” he interrupts. “It is what it is. He’s a rich, famous rapper, and—“
“You think that’s what this is about? That’s not fair.”
“Neither is seeing my so-called girlfriend pop up with a gut full of another man's baby.”
I blow out a sigh as tears prick the corners of my eyes. “I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”
“Who said I was hurt?”
I roll my eyes at the male ego on this man. “Okay, well, I’m still sorry. It wasn’t…” I trail off, realizing I’m wasting my breath. The only person who can possibly understand all of this is Vincent. To everybody else, it must seem pretty simple. Pretty grimy, even.
“Look, I wish you the best in your future endeavors,” he says coldly. “No hard feelings. I promise.”
“Okay.” I wipe a tear off my cheek. “Bye, Luca.”
After I’ve gotten my bearings, I call my sister.
She lets me vent and cry about the conversation I just had, then she shoots me some much-needed bail.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” she says, “because I didn’t think you’d even hear from him. But girl. That nigga is married.”
“I’m sorry…what?”
“Yeah. He got married a few months ago.”
“Well, damn," I say, my mind whirling with thoughts.
“Yeah. So don’t let him make you feel guilty. You didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did he, I guess. He did think you were dead. But, yeah. Fuck him.”
I can’t do anything but laugh, because honestly, I’m relieved. I never planned to go back to Luca, but I also didn’t anticipate the reaction I would get to my pregnancy. In our bubble, it made sense. It felt natural. Understandable.
But now?
I’m starting to see myself through other peoples’ eyes, and it’s not pretty.