Chapter 7 #2
Ben texted her again that afternoon, and Charlotte didn’t answer him until she got home. She emailed him the article and told him she had turned it in. It still had to be fact-checked by the copy editors, proofed, and approved.
He answered her immediately. “Does that mean you’ll see me when I get home?” he asked her.
“Read the piece and see if you like it,” she responded.
He wrote to her an hour later. “It’s fantastic.
I love it. It made me cry. I love you,” he said, and she thanked him.
She didn’t know what to do next or what to say to him.
She thought of Henry saying that life was a heartbreak waiting to happen, and real love was worth it.
She knew he was right. But she was afraid to sign up.
She’d had enough heartbreaks for one lifetime.
She didn’t want more. And Ben couldn’t attach.
He said so himself. So what good was that?
Why would she be different than the women he hadn’t loved before?
She didn’t hear from him again that night. She guessed that he was thinking. They both were. What had happened in St. Barth had been beautiful. Why spoil the memory of it with a broken heart to follow? It sounded like a sure thing to her if she got involved with him, but she already was.
Ben sent three dozen red roses to her apartment the next day.
The card read, Thank You for the Beautiful Article.
I Love You, Ben. She put them on her dining table and sent him a text to thank him.
She was hiding, just as Henry had said, and Ben could sense it, but he wasn’t sure.
She wasn’t making firm plans to see him, and she was evasive whenever he mentioned it.
He was eager to get back to New York and hold her in his arms again.
—
Coming home was brutal for Lillith. It was freezing and there was ice on the ground.
She looked around her apartment and wondered if she should start packing, or wait until John got home and ask him how much she could bring to his apartment.
She didn’t want to crowd him, and wondered if she should sell her furniture.
Storing it would be expensive and she couldn’t afford it.
It was all secondhand anyway. She had to give notice at her apartment, but she didn’t know when John wanted her to move in.
When she went to work, she learned that her boss’s mother had died suddenly over the holidays from a stroke.
Lillith didn’t want to add to her misery by telling her she was leaving.
Two days later, her boss fell on the ice and broke her hip.
She had surgery and was in the hospital with a hip replacement, so Lillith couldn’t leave her now.
It felt like the fates were conspiring against her to slow things down.
She wanted to call John to tell him, but he had told her he would be busy with back-to-back Zoom meetings and she didn’t want to disturb him. He had been on vacation when she was there, but the holidays were over. She knew he was coming back the week after New Year, but he hadn’t said what day.
She checked her texts and emails constantly all day every day.
Every half hour she would check again for a message, but there wasn’t any, and he hadn’t called her.
She knew he would, and she wanted to be ready for his call when he got back, and to move quickly in response to him.
She made no plans and sat in her apartment, waiting, every night.
The silence was painful, but she knew he was a busy man.
She called him over the weekend, and he didn’t answer. She left him a message on his cell, and he didn’t return the call.
By Monday, Lillith was panicked. She’d been home for a week and John hadn’t returned.
She thought something must have gone wrong with his meetings, and he was trying to fix it and too busy to call.
He was a controversial person, dealing with millions and fighting with unions.
She had to be patient. Normal rules didn’t apply to him, but she was scared anyway.
Her cellphone never left her hand after that.
She checked it for text and email dozens of times a day, every few minutes.
She sent him a text asking him to reassure her that he was okay.
She had no one to call to ask. Two weeks after she got home, she called his office and was put through to his secretary, who said Mr. Williams was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed.
Lillith was shocked to discover John was in New York and hadn’t called her.
She felt sick. Why hadn’t he called, at least to tell her he was busy but alive and in New York?
She alternated between rage and despair for another week.
She left five messages that week and sent three texts, asking if he was okay.
Her heart felt like it was breaking. When she left John on the boat he said he loved her, wanted her to move in with him and quit her job, and now he wouldn’t speak to her.
Lillith couldn’t understand why he didn’t tell her what was going on.
He was back in the city and hadn’t called.
She had no explanation for his silence. He couldn’t have changed his mind after she left.
She hadn’t done anything wrong and hadn’t bothered him.
She had waited for him to contact her before she panicked.
She wondered if he was depressed or if Gabby had upset him, if he had told her about them and she had exploded and scared him off.
No explanation Lillith came up with made sense. She was so nervous and upset that she had hardly eaten, had lost eight pounds, and couldn’t sleep at night. He was simply gone. From I love you to nothing within weeks. Ghosted.
People at work noticed how pale and unhappy she looked and how nervous she was. It looked serious, and she was so visibly upset no one dared ask her what had happened.
Her mother had had the twins the night she came home.
She and Zack were wildly excited. The babies were two weeks early but healthy.
They had named them Audrey and Alexander.
Ginny, her mother, was trying to nurse them both.
They were home from the hospital a week later with two baby nurses, two relief nurses, and a lactation expert.
Her mother said Lillith had to come to see how beautiful they were, and she promised to come soon, and never told her about John or how upset and confused she was.
Her mother was totally absorbed by the twins, and didn’t notice the despair in Lillith’s voice.
She sent Lillith photos of the babies every few hours, and each time Lillith nearly jumped out of her skin thinking the text was from John.
But it was only her mother with more baby pictures.
Her father had sprained his ankle on the last day of skiing and he was staying at his current girlfriend’s apartment, and she was nursing him.
Whatever else was happening in Lillith’s life, there were no messages from John and she wondered if she would hear from him again.
It looked like she wouldn’t, and she wondered what had gone wrong, why he had changed his mind so suddenly and cut her out of his life.
She felt constantly sick over it, heartsick and guilty.
She must have done something very wrong, and she couldn’t figure out what it was.
She had never had a more painful three weeks.
She felt as though her heart was bleeding somewhere deep inside her.
She had never felt so abandoned, so terrified, so bereft, and so alone.
It was as though their time on the boat had never happened.
—
John came back to New York three days after Lillith.
The week with her had been wonderful but suffocating, and he needed a breather after she left.
He was intending to call her, maybe at the end of the week.
And he was in no rush. He knew she was there if he wanted her, and his silence would only make her want him more.
He wasn’t worried about losing her. She was his for the taking.
Isabelle got back from California the day after his return. She called him and he was happy to hear from her. She always sounded poised and happy, and she had a light touch he enjoyed. She was his closest friend after Helen, and had been Helen’s too. At times they were interchangeable in his mind.
“How was St. Barth?” Isabelle asked him in a sympathetic tone.
“It was very hard. It just isn’t the same without Helen. Everywhere I look I see her and something she loved. Maybe I should sell the boat,” he said, sounding depressed. She was shocked because she knew how much he loved Lady H.
“Don’t make any rash decisions,” she urged him.
“You’ll feel differently in a few months.
” It saddened her to hear him so unhappy.
“Do you want to come for dinner?” She had a busy social life, had had a wonderful marriage, and had adjusted to her widowhood smoothly, thanks to her friends and the boards she was on.
She filled her time well, and was content.
“I’d love it.” John responded to Isabelle’s invitation warmly.
She glanced at her calendar and saw an opening.
“How’s Friday? That’s in two days, will you be okay until then?” She was seriously worried about him. He sounded so down.
“Perfect. Just knowing I’m going to see you will cheer me up.”
“Good. Just the two of us, nothing fancy, a simple kitchen dinner,” she said brightly. She was a positive person and an independent woman. She always had something cheerful to say, and a new project to report to him.
“Can I bring anything?”