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My stomach hurt all the time, and the doctors frowned when I told them. There wasn’t much we could do but watch what I ate and give it time. There wasn’t a playbook for what would happen to me, because they didn’t know exactly what poison I had ingested. Just a lot ofthey weren’t sure.
I turned to my sisters. “For the first week, I thought he’d come back.”
They both turned to me. Relief appeared on Layla’s face, but Hope was still hidden in her thoughts. It was the first time I said anything about it. They knew he left me, of course, but we never talked about what he said, because I could barely speak about it without feeling like I was choking.
But it was time to try.
“Maybe you know that feeling, Hopey.” I nodded, thinking about it. I bet she did. “Or maybe not. Michael changed your name and all that, so it wasn’t like Max could just show up, but I thought for a while he might. Like, he just had a nervous breakdown, and he’d come back when he came to his senses. He would tell me he didn’t mean it, not any of it. The next week, I assumed he wouldn’t, and that wasworse. The things he said to me—they hurt so much, because he knew just how to hurt me. I told him everything, gave him all the parts of me. But since I gave them all to him, I need new parts now.” I sniffed. “Obviously, I also need security, since someone fucking tried to kill me. Again. Can Zeke find me someone? Not that Sylvie woman, but someone to follow me around. I don’t want Michael’s people near me. Not that they would because I’m…never mind. I can’t say it yet. Can we do that?”
Hope took my hand. “You want to go back to Hong Kong?”
“No, that was hiding. I’m done with that. That girl…the one he could throw away? She’s fucking gone. It’s time to figure out who I am without him, which will be hard, because he’s been part of my life since I was a teenager.” I took a long breath, but it didn’t wobble and I didn’t break down in sobs. “I’m going back to New York. I ran from there because of Dad and because I hated being the girl next door. That’s where I’m going. Tomorrow.”
15
“Ithink this will suit nicely for what you want to do,” Zeke said, giving his approval as we walked around the space I planned to rent. Not that I’d asked him for his opinion—Layla had—but I hadn’t objected to his input. My father only managed to get as far as he did because of Zeke, who remained a smart businessman with an eye for things that would sell.
I wanted women to come through my door and feel comfortable talking to me about money. Well, me and whoever else I would eventually hire. I intended this office to be a starter location. We would only grow from the initial space, I was sure of it.
The business aspect should be reasonably simple, after all, since I went to college for literally that reason. But the people part—that would likely prove to be difficult for me. One-on-one, I’d probably be fine. Overall marketing in the scope I planned to reach? I was glad for his input.
“I think it’s brilliant, Bridget.” He turned to look at me. “When Layla asked me to fly out here, I was glad to come,you know. We’ve all been worried about you, these last three months.”
I blinked twice before answering. “They asked me to communicate every day, and I’ve done that.”
“Yes, you have.” He frowned at me. “But you’re obviously not yourself yet. I get it. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost Layla. I almost did.”
He had one week without her. Three months had passed since I’d been dumped. Zeke left her, not the other way around. We weren’t in the same situation, but I wasn’t discussing it with him.
I’d moved to New York, rented an apartment on the Upper East Side in a building full of people three times my age and older. I’d be looking to buy in a year, once I was sure I wasn’t going to fail.
I shrugged. “This is who I am. It’s probably who I always was.” I walked toward the door. “I’ve always been the girl next door, right?”
And that was what I was naming my business:The Redheaded Girl Next Door Investments. I would own it. I might be the girl next door, but I also attended one of the most prestigious business colleges in the country. I could be both the beautiful redhead in pictures and the one who made a fortune for others over the years.And I am all of those things. What I wasn’t was romantic or dreamy. I didn’t believe in happily ever afters for myself, and I was damned sure going to figure out how to have a good life that didn’t involve getting married and daydreaming about families.
My sisters built their lives with extraordinary men, which made sense because they were extraordinary women. I was glad for them, but I was done trying to have my version of their lives.
Zeke followed me out of the suite. “I’ll tell Layla the place is perfect, and you…are who you’ve always thought you were?”
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Thanks for coming, Zeke. It’s so good to have family. I’ll fly out in three months to see the boys…and the secret one you guys aren’t telling anyone you’re expecting.” I grinned at him, and I hoped it didn’t look deranged. I was out of practice. “I noticed how green Layla was last week on the video call.”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure anyone can keep a secret among triplets. Listen, if you can tell she’s pregnant before she tells anyone, then you also know she can tell you’re in agony. Can I help? For real, is there anything I can do? I’d love to help you fix things.”
“No.” I patted his arm. “See you soon.”
I left him there on the street, walking away without a backward glance. It wasn’t the politest response, that was for sure, but I couldn’t pretend to be okay for him or my sister. If I had to live it, they would have to just watch me suffer.
I knew Amanda Hill took coffee with her sources every other Friday at a coffee shop in the East Village. The woman drove my sisters nuts with her reporting over the years. Quasi-obsessed with Layla, she reported nonstop about her on her vlog. Afterward, she tried to tank Hope after an argument at the gym. She basically insinuated Hope was fat, as if that would be the worst possible fate imagined. In the end, my sisters were happy and away from her.
But I was about to use the crap out of the woman.
I dressed the part, choosing a designer Layla recommended—one of the ones Layla helped back when the designer first started in the industry, so she owed a favor or two to the family. Even my hair and makeup looked flawless. My security remained a short distance away, but I could feel their eyes on me. Two brothers, according to Zeke, who he’d found somewhere. I didn’t know their names and maybe it made me a bitch, but I didn’t care to learn them. We all agreed I’d do a yearof heavy security and then they’d ease off. If no one else tried to poison me for a year, I was probably in the clear anyway.
But my stomach would be an issue. If I ate or drank the wrong thing, I could start puking on Amanda. That would be a nightmare, so I reminded myself to avoid things like coffee in her presence. If I drank something, only chamomile tea, one of the few safe beverages since the poisoning.
I survived it, but my stomach…it would probably never be the same.
For the best, then, that I didn’t want to date. I couldn’t go to restaurants anyway. Maybe if my belly ever really recovered, I would take it as a sign to get back out there.Or maybe not.I didn’t believe in signs. My stomach’s return to normal wasn’t a sign of anything other than healing.
