Page 99
“Thank you.”
“And you’re not an asshole, just lost.”
He closes my door and I stare at the beautiful drawing of me laughing. I miss him. No matter what happens in my life, I miss him. And I had him and decided to fuck that up, too. I turn the picture over and there’s an address.
BETTE: Heads up, you heard wrong. They never did a pitch. They were talking about something else and Dax knows everything. Sorry, thanks for being team Bette but it might be time to pull out Lizzie. I’m a mess. You?
SOPHIE: Huge mess. OMG. I’m so sorry. Sorry I filled your head with my skeptical male bullshit. Honey, please know I only did it to protect you. We fucked it all up, didn’t we?
BETTE: For what it’s worth. He loves you.
SOPHIE: How could you tell, it’s not like he’s chatty? Well, outside of the bedroom.
BETTE: I’m going to find Hayden to try and fix this shit. Dax gave me clue to find him. Thought he was being secretive. ‘Go back to the beginning.’
SOPHIE: That’s so Dax. Boston?
BETTE: No. But I have to go to Boston first to get something. I’m sure my love is in Paris.
* * *
I’m driving past rows of gorgeous Victorian homes. I didn’t know what to expect of South Boston. I’m humbled by my ignorance as I turn onto a street with more modest brick homes. It’s about five thirty and all the neighbors are on their porches and stoops having drinks and talking while kids run around the cars and street.
I park and observe the woman I assume I’m here to see. She’s stunning with her similar raven hair but hers is threaded with the most beautiful silver. It’s his face and I’m knocked out by this moment. I don’t know why Dax would send me to meet Hayden’s mother.
She sits back and sips what looks like fruit punch, and I lean on the car door and trying to look nonchalant. I don’t know how to start.
She yells, “Come, Lizzie.” She gestures me towards her, and I nod with tears streaming down my face. Because that’s what I do with my days now, I cry like a baby all the time. She gestures again. “Come.”
As I get closer, she notices me wiping my eyes and rushes off the porch and wraps her arms around me. She’s short but strong and I rest my head on her shoulder. We’re on her sidewalk and I let it all go while Hayden’s mother holds me. I’m careful not to rumple his drawing.
After what seems like hours, but is only ten minutes, I raise my head. “I’m so sorry to do this, Mrs. Danson. I’m so embarrassed, I don’t usually fall apart like this. Well, lately I do, I’m sorry. How did you know it was me?”
She pats my arm and pulls me towards her house. “It’s Lilliana. I know you from the many pictures around my house, my dear. And you weep because of love. It’s a kind of love I’ve never known, but you have for my boy. Come, bella. We eat, you talk, and I’ll try to understand.”
Within minutes, there’s a full feast in her house. A professionally set table with intricate lace tablecloth, napkins, crystal goblets, and polished silver.
“We’re eating at the good table. Don’t tell the boys. I never let them do this.”
I grin. “Because they’re too old?”
“Because they’re messy boys. But us girls deserve this bit of fancy.” She notices the piece of paper beside my plate and beams with pride.
“Is that for me?”
“Sorry, to surprise you. Do you really want another picture of me?”
She laughs. “I’m partial to the artist, but you’re not a surprise. Dax told me you were coming.” Well, that explains the feast. “Now, my dear, you have a full plate of braciola, spinach and sausage tortellini, and some potatoes. Manga. Eat and talk.”
Pasta and potatoes. I think I love this woman.
I devour all of it, as if I haven’t eaten before. Christ, the woman can cook. I talk and talk, and she listens and laughs. She reacts like she doesn’t know most of our story, but I know she does. And when I finish my meal and my stories, I sit back and sip some really sweet and cold wine.
“I have a flight out tonight to go to Danny and try to fix this, but Dax said you had something I need.”
She places a platter of gorgeous small desserts and pours two small glasses of sherry, then rifles in a drawer and places what she found in front of me. “He disappears to heal his wounds. I give him that space, considering all that he gives back to his family.”
I put my hand over my heart. I can’t stop staring at a pink Eiffel Tower key chain, identical to the one I have, but the enamel is still intact. There’s a key attached and I grasp it to my chest. It’s too much.
