Chapter 41
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
LOVIE
One morning on the train, Yesenia told me her blanquita therapist said the most dangerous time in our relationships wasn’t when we decided we loved men who loved with their fists. It was the time we finally decided we deserved better.
“They get desperate during that time,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee while the train jerked forward.
“Because how dare we leave them and break their hearts? They’ll do anything to get you back under their thumb while you’re gone.
So if you’re really gonna go no-contact with him, promise me you’re really gonna do that.
We already lost two girls at work this month.
One didn’t go far enough, and another one met up one last time for closure. Fuck closure, Lovie.”
I inhale the oakmoss and leather scent from the interior of Rich’s truck one last time before pushing the door open for the valet waiting on the other side.
“This is a big truck for such a lil’ lady.” He smiles a dopey, gap-toothed smile.
The valet staff at the Post Oak is just as harmlessly corny as I remember them being from all the times me and AJ stayed here with his parents when they came to visit from Jersey.
“Yeah…my husband is the ‘go big or go home’ type,” I reply.
The valet laughs, holding his hand out for me to grab. “You checking in?”
I shake my head, placing my hand in his cold, dry one and letting him help me climb out of the driver’s seat. “No—just meeting a friend for a quick bite to eat before they catch their flight back home.”
“Bloom & Bee?”
I nod.
He pulls a ticket out of his pocket, scribbles on it, and pushes it toward me. “Got it. We’ll take good care of hubby’s beaut in the meantime.”
He smiles at my outfit, and his eyes stop for a brief second on the Neverfull I found while grabbing whatever I laid my eyes on in my closet last night when I packed at Aunt Faye and Uncle Kenny’s.
AJ called it my “starter bag.” It was the first luxury bag his daddy bought his mama when he became the attending physician at Garden State Medical Center, so it had to be the first one AJ bought me.
The leather on it is still its original pale tone because WAGs didn’t care about sentimental starter bags.
To them, it was just a “basic bitch bag” or a “mommy bag.” It said I hadn’t been indoctrinated into WAG World where Chanels and Birkins reigned supreme, but at the Post Oak it said I belonged here.
“You got everything you need, right?” the valet asks.
I pull the heavy bag closer to my side. “Yup.”
“Good. They’ll take care of you inside. Enjoy your lunch.”
I gait through one of the doors the doorman holds open and step into the lobby.
A familiar pang hits my chest as if I’m visiting an old friend who I shared more bad memories with than good ones.
Men meander around the posh lobby in suits, and their lunch dates follow them around in Sarah Flints and Louboutins.
It feels like it’s been years since I strutted through this lobby in my own Louboutins.
An upbeat tempo pumps through the lobby’s speakers while I stare ahead at the front desk where the staff talks to each other in low tones with carefree expressions.
“I’m tough, Rich. Your baby is really, really tough,” I murmur to myself before power-walking up to the front desk and flinging my Neverfull on the counter.
I huff out a dramatic breath as a young brunette gives me a gentle smile.
“How can I help you, sweetheart?” she asks.
“Hi…” My eyes float down to her name tag while I grab the sides of my head. “Gianna. I…cannot believe what I just did.”
Her overly arched eyebrows wrinkle as she leans on the counter. “Everything okay?”
“Well, I went over to the Galleria…”
“Uh-huh…” She nods, eyeing my empty hands.
“I went to pick up a bag at Louis Vuitton that my husband asked them to hold for him when he stopped in on Sunday after getting in from the airport, and I…I think I dropped my key card somewhere back at the mall.”
“Oh! I’m sorry that happened, Ms…” Her eyes graze my empty ring finger.
“Boyd—Mrs. Boyd. I also left my ring up in the room with my husband—hopefully.”
She chuckles. “It happens to the best of us.”
I laugh back, grabbing my flat stomach.
“I hope I’m not being too forward, but are you by any chance expecting?” she asks. “I can recognize pregnancy brain a mile away.”
“I know I shouldn’t say just yet…but yeah. I’m eight weeks along and I don’t know how I’m functioning.”
“Uh-huh. Classic pregnancy brain.”
We lock eyes and I mimic her laugh even though a bitter taste coats my mouth.
“How many do you have?” I ask.
“Two. So I am well-versed in pregnancy brain.” She presses a key on the computer. “What’s the room number, or has that disappeared somewhere between pregnancy cravings and nausea?”
“It is definitely somewhere in the pits.”
She holds up a finger. “No worries at all. Just give me your first name and I can pull up the reservation that way.”
I sigh. “You’re going to hate me.”
“I promise I won’t.”
“It’s a long story and I know you’re a busy gal, but—”
“I’m never too busy to hear from another mama bear.”
“Well, my…my husband’s a football player.
This is his bye-week, but he had to fly into town because of an unexpected death in the family.
Last night I flew in to surprise him with ultrasound pictures from the appointment he missed.
” My voice cracks. “He gave me his spare key card. So I…I actually won’t be on the reservation. ”
Her blue eyes light with that sparkling glint I’ve grown to hate. I see the moment she connects the dots between the last name I gave her and “football.”
“Oh!” she gasps. “You’re…you’re AJ Boyd’s wife. You should’ve said that. Let me get you from down here.”
She taps the computer’s mouse, then clicks around on the keyboard in a flurry.
Afterward, she picks up the phone sitting on the desk. “Let me just call his room to confirm a few details.”
I hold my hand out. “Wait, he’s—”
Her eyebrows shoot up, but the phone is already trilling loudly.
She pulls it from her mouth. “It’s policy. I promise it is. I just need him to confirm that he knows you, even though I know he knows you. I mean, I saw your spread in People. How was the wedding in Nice?”
My stomach turns as if I’m really pregnant, and I feel a part of Rich inside of me again. It’s the part of himself he said he’ll always give me when we make love, and he gave it to me over and over last night without me having to beg for it.
I press on my stomach and lift my mouth into a lifeless smile. “God, the wedding was like a fairytale. He made my dreams come true.”
“Wow.” She sighs. “Congratulations. You two look like you were born for each other. Those engagement pictures in People were breathtaking. Your makeup was flawless.”
I blink back a tear and gulp down the frigid lobby air while the line trills and trills until she finally hangs up.
“Darn,” she hisses. “Let me try—”
“He’s…he’s probably still asleep. He’s a heavy sleeper. He didn’t even hear me get out of bed this morning.”
“Don’t worry. We’re gonna get you up there. You probably need to get off your feet anyway.” She waves her hand at one of the concierges strolling by. “Ernesto, can you escort Mrs. Boyd up to the 22nd floor? She’s locked out, hubby is sleeping, and she needs to get off her feet.”
He tugs the front of his charcoal-grey suit and nods at me with a smile. “Of course.”
“Just drop back by the desk when you get a chance, Mrs. Boyd. We’ll get you another key card.”
I nod as Ernesto holds his hand out toward the glass elevator. I lead the way on wobbly knees. Inside, he taps his employee key card against the card reader and the doors close.
The elevator ride up is quiet.
I stare at myself in the door’s reflection as if I’m seeing myself for the first time in a really long time.
I look different—softer, dewier, and five pounds heavier.
I stare at the column of my neck where Rich left a trail of kisses when we made love again this morning sometime between the sun coming up and the birds singing from the trees around his house.
The elevator dings and the doors open, ripping my reflection apart.
“Here we are,” Ernesto says, sticking his arm between the doors to keep them open. “Are you okay with me dropping you off here? I don’t want to disturb Mr. Boyd any further.”
“This…this is good, Ernesto. Thank you for the help.”