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I hailed a cab, lucky that I kept fifty dollars in my bra for emergencies. “Where to?” he asked.
“Hell’s Kitchen,” I said and closed my eyes and let the tears fall. My skin shivered. It was hot and humid outside, but I couldn’t get warm. What would happen from here? How would I ever come back from this? This whole time, we had built a fantasy around us. Lived in our safe bubble. That bubble had well and truly burst. It had always been destined to burst. We were two very different people from two very different worlds.
And Harry was right; I had no idea what it was like to live in his world. To one day inherit a title and rub shoulders with royalty, the peerage, and people who would judge both him and me simply for falling in love. King had told me so at the races. And I’d known. Deep down I’d known it was true.
Inevitable.
Harry and I were impossible.
I glanced out the window, seeing familiar streets come into view. My hands slammed against the window as we passed Papa’s shop. “No,” I whispered, my heart breaking for the second time that day, seeing a small sign reading “Out of Business” on the door. When the cab pulled up to my parents’ apartment, I felt what was left of my heart crack. My stomach dropped, and I felt all hope turn to vapor and be carried away on the breeze.
I handed the cab driver my cash and stepped out onto the street that I had grown up on. I looked at the apartment that held all my childhood and fondest memories. The wooden doors that had welcomed me home day after day. And on the wall of the small apartment that I adored so much was a “For Sale” sign.
After climbing the stone steps, feeling like they were a veritable Mount Everest, I opened the door and let myself into my parents’ home. Mom and Papa were sitting on the couch in silence, holding each other’s hands. Mom jumped to her feet. I didn’t speak a word, just let the tears fall and fell into her arms.
“We have to, Faith,” she said. “We need to pay off the debts. There’s no more time. We must do what’s right.”
I looked up through my blurred vision and held my hand out for Papa. His eyes glistened as he wrapped his arms around us. “You love the shop,” I said brokenly.
“It is a shop, mia bambina. You and your mama are my heart. That is all I care about.” I knew that wasn’t true, but he would never show me his pain, even though I knew he was racked with it. And with that, I fell apart. As Mom and Papa held me, I broke down on their shoulders.
“Shh, baby,” Mom said, stroking my hair. “Are you okay?” I shook my head. She pulled my head away from her shoulder to search my face. Her eyes softened when she asked, “Harry?” I nodded, and she wrapped me back into her embrace. “It’s okay, Faith. Whatever it is, it will work out. I promise.” Mom kissed me on my head and said, “Soup? Let’s have some soup. Everything is better after soup.”
So we ate tomato soup. Afterwards, I climbed into my childhood bed, thought of Harry, and let my heart break some more.
“What’s this meeting for?” I asked Novah as we were ushered to the conference room three days later. I walked like a zombie, with Novah holding my hand for support. My friends knew Harry and I had fought, he had left, and he hadn’t come back. No phone calls. No texts. Nothing at all. They didn’t know he was Maître, though. Despite everything, I didn’t want to hurt him like that. And telling even one person his secret could be his downfall.
When everyone was gathered, Sally came into the room and said, “Three days ago, King Sinclair had a heart attack.” Shock took hold of me, and every muscle in my body tensed. Harry. My god, Harry…the phone call.
Novah squeezed my hand as Sally continued. “It was a close call, but he received emergency surgery and is now in stable condition.” I exhaled, thanking God that Harry hadn’t lost his father too. “King is expected to make a full recovery. Harry flew out to be by his side as soon as he heard.”
I closed my eyes. Harry…
I recalled his face when he got the call…I should have realized something was wrong. That it was really bad. But I was too wrapped up in my pain, in my hurt. In that moment, I hated myself.
“But the good news,” Sally said, looking at me, Michael, and Sarah. “The midsummer celebration is still happening.” The four of us were scheduled to go to England next week to represent Visage at HCS Media’s birthday masquerade ball. The other invitees smiled at Sally in excitement, and with that, the meeting was over.
