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“Hey,” I answer.
“Oh, thank goodness you answered.” She’s breathless. “Everything’s fine, but Marabel took a spill on the sidewalk and hit her head on a newspaper rack. The cut is pretty deep, and it’s bleeding pretty good, so we’re heading to the ER to see if we can get her stitched up. Can you send me a photo of your insurance card?”
“Which hospital are you going to?” I ask, already turning on my heel and heading for the front exit.
“Thank you so much for stopping in, Mr. Bellisario,” Rick Hartsfield says as he sends me off with a wave and his signature fake smile. “Please come back soon.”
“Lenox Hill,” Theodora answers.
“I’m on my way.”
“Oh, it’s not necessary, Roman. Really. No need to overreact. She’s fine. I just wanted you to know—”
“—I’ll call you when I get there.” I end the call and head up the block in search of Antonio, who just so happens to be rounding the corner.
I flag him down, climb in, and tell him to hightail it to Lenox Hill.
We’re passing the gallery when the door swings open, and out steps the honey blonde. Her head is down as she looks at her phone, and a breeze blows her hair in front of her face, but it’s her.
It’s Margaux.
This time, I’m certain.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SLOANE
“He almost saw me today,” I say the second Margaux gets home Saturday night.
“Who?” She shrugs her purse strap from her shoulder and places her bag on the entry table.
“Roman,” I say, as if I could possibly be talking about anyone else.
Margaux shakes her head. “Oh, right. Wow. Okay, what happened?”
“I went to an art gallery exhibit,” I say. “He showed up while I was there. As soon as I noticed him, I went in the back and hid in the ladies’ room. When I came out a few minutes later, he was gone.”
Margaux frowns. “I don’t understand how that’s a big deal. If he would’ve run into you, he would’ve just assumed you were me.”
“I was with Julissa,” I say. “My old colleague? You’ve met her before. Anyway, if he would’ve called me Margaux in front of her, or if she would’ve called me Sloane in front of him . . .”
My sister takes a seat at the end of the sofa, collapsing as if she’s had the longest day of her life.
“You seem out of it,” I say. “What’s going on? How was dinner with Ethan?”
Staring ahead, her gaze unfocused, she says, “It was . . . unexpected.”
“Unexpected good or unexpected bad?”
“Good.” Her voice is monotone, and there’s no light in her eyes. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around everything.”
“Care to elaborate? I’m not getting any younger here.”
“So, his mother was there,” she begins. “I’d never met her before today, but she was there with him and she’s . . . strangely excited about this whole thing. I guess she’s been after Ethan to settle down and start a family for years. He’s never going to settle down because he’s, well, Ethan, but he promised to support me—us—as much as he can. His mom doubled down on that and offered me this three-bedroom rent-controlled apartment on the Lower East Side that’s been in their family for decades.”
“Holy shit.”
She turns to me, her eyes suddenly expressive. “I know, right? It all seems too good to be true. I was expecting to go there tonight and have him plead with me to . . . I don’t know . . . not have the babies or to give them away. I was expecting to have to come home and make a decision, but now it’s like things are magically falling into place.”
“This is great.” I inch toward her and place my hand on her knee. “Why aren’t you jumping for joy right now? A rent-controlled three bedroom? Support from Ethan? An excited grandmother? This is incredible.”
“His mom offered to hire a nanny for us, too, so I wouldn’t have to worry about day care,” she adds. “And on top of that, she’s really nice. She’s sweet and loving and warm and friendly and completely over the moon about the babies.”
“Wow.”
“Ethan’s pushing forty,” she continues, “and he’s her only child. She said being a grandmother is the only thing she wants in this world, and she wants to make sure I’m healthy and happy and have everything I need to give her grandchildren the childhood they deserve.”
“I know she’s not technically your mother-in-law, but I don’t think it gets any better than that.”
“It’s weird, right? Like, I don’t deserve any of this. It’s like I won the lottery, but I can’t figure out why I’m not happier about it.” She rests her chin against her hand, focusing on the lifeless TV on the other side of the room. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen my sister in this deflated state. There’s no confidence oozing from her porcelain skin or emanating off her in electrostatic shock waves. “It’s not like it’s a promotion or something that I’ve worked for, you know?”
