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“Are you okay?” Denise finally asks and I don’t know how to answer it. I try for the closest thing to honest as I can get.
“I think I will be. But today? No, I’m not.”
We schedule a playdate for our kids tomorrow and Denise pauses before whispering, “I love you most.”
“Impossible,” I tell her with a small smile.
And once the call is ended, I sit at my desk.
Peter once asked about the photo of the Manhattan skyline that I kept in a gilded frame to the right of my computer monitor.
It’d been effortless to lie.
New York is a part of me. It’s where I met Miley, where I honed my passion.
It’s where I fell into a love affair that shaped me.
The woman Peter fell in love with will always wear the marks of another man’s mistakes.
My love affair with the city can be summed up in one word: Abraham. I relate the chaos of the frenetic city to the whirlwind and electric relationship we shared. Anything to do with New York City reminds me of him.
And I wonder if it had, indeed, been beautiful when I cracked wide open for him. Because there’s one thing I know for certain today: I’m cracking now and it’s far from beautiful.
I don’t want to work tonight, but I check my emails just in case there’s something time-sensitive waiting for me.
One of the emails stops me short and I’m not surprised to see his name in my inbox. After all, I’ve been the object of his desires before. And while it may be different this time, I still know Abraham well enough to know that when he wants something, he won’t stop.
I used to love that about him.
Now it’s just fucking annoying.
