18. April
18
APRIL
I make my way to the Jupiter Hotel Restaurant with a skip in my step. Usually, I'd have no reason to be in such a good mood while still in my gilded cage—but today's different.
Today, I get to see them.
"Over here!"
I'd recognize June's voice anywhere. I rush to the restaurant entrance with the speed of a cracked-out-on-sugar five-year-old at Disneyland. Who knew a pregnant woman with sore feet could run this fast?
Behind me, Grisha chuckles.
I pull June into a crushing hug. Then I turn to the third person in our party and do the same.
"It's been too long, Apes!" Corey says, nearly picking me off the ground. Which, considering the extra Nugget in my body, is no small feat.
"God, I missed you both so much," I squeak, throwing my arms around the two of them.
Truthfully, it hasn't even been a week since I've last hugged June. But that tearful goodbye has us both swallowing back tears now, like a pair of mushy little schoolgirls.
"Ms. Evans," Grisha greets, ever-polite. "Mr. Evans. I'll leave Ms. Flowers in your capable hands."
Corey mock-salutes. June makes a sound that might have been a giggle. I do a double-take. What the hell? Since when does June giggle ?
"Thank you," I tell Grisha. "I'll meet you back here in an hour."
An hour. That's the most I've been able to negotiate for today's get-together. Apparently, the safety risk is too great to linger on the ground floor for long. The penthouse is isolated, but anyone could walk in here. Anyone skilled enough to evade the security check, that is.
I suppose the people after me definitely qualify.
A waiter leads us to our reserved table, pulling out the chairs for both us girls in turn. June shoots me a look, but I can only shrug.
We sit down and pick up our brunch menus. "So," June says, glancing back at the waiter, "lap of luxury, huh?"
"Pretty much." It will never stop being weird—this sudden role reversal. From berated worker to potentially berating customer.
Which I'd never, of course. But the awkwardness stays.
Corey wolf-whistles. "Snazzy place. Reminds me of the old days."
"Right?" June nods. "It's like that time Papa took us to the Four Seasons."
With people like June and Corey, it's easy to forget. A waitress and a publishing intern, respectively, both minimum wage earners counting pennies to make it through the end of the month.
It's easy to forget that they come from money.
Like many wealthy families, the Evanses had everything money could buy. And because of that, they desperately wanted the one thing it couldn't: a child.
After lots of struggle for "a child of their own"—something they never failed to word as painfully as possible—they finally swallowed the hard truth: only a miracle could give them that. Thus, they decided to go down the adoption road. That was how Corey came into the family.
Weighed down by expectations, Corey grew up among the finest things in life… and the coldest. Not a day went by that Mr. and Mrs. Evans would let him forget he wasn't "theirs." That he was the second choice. As such, they claimed, he had to work hard to "repay them." In that loveless house, Corey spent the first five years of his life alone.
And then Mr. Evans packed up.
Of course, Mrs. Evans couldn't let that happen. As a Hamptons socialite, she'd built her reputation around the image of a perfect, happy marriage. Divorce would have been a scandal.
So she made the miracle happen.
Nine months later, June was born. Mrs. Evans presented her to the world as her little miracle—and Mr. Evans was forced to come back from his "business trip."
Problem was, Mr. Evans never believed in miracles. He knew the truth. And so he retreated to his studio and his cognac bottles. After a while, Mrs. Evans gave up trying to save what couldn't be saved. Their rings stayed on their fingers, but it was never more than that.
And June was a miracle no longer.
With a background like that, the Evans siblings should have hated each other. Their parents certainly never lost a chance to pit them against each other, like living pawns in a sick game of chess. That was the real miracle: that, instead, they grew up inseparable. The second choice and the glue baby of dubious parentage, together against the world. A family of two.
Then I came along and made three.
"I'm thinking Buddha bowl," June muses, looking up at the waiter who's since come back. "It's cheap enough, and?—"
"We're putting everything on Matvey's tab," I announce.
"Lobster hash, please," June rectifies. "And a glass of your finest white."
"Hanger steak and eggs for me," Corey pipes up. "Heavy on the eggs. And an Old Fashioned."
"Waffles and fried chicken," I decide, earning two pairs of disbelieving eyes on me. "And a sparkling water, please."
The waiter bows to us and leaves.
"What?" I ask the two Evanses. "Nugget's got cravings."
"Nugget needs to watch Eloise at the Plaza ," June remarks. "And step up that palate."
"Bold of you to assume it has a palate," Corey comments. "Need I remind you what its mother eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?"
"Hey!" I counter. "There's nothing wrong with mac and cheese."
"Sure thing, Drew Barrymore."
I pout. "I don't remember hearing you complain about my lunch boxes when you were twelve."
"Yeah, because I was twelve. "
I blow him a raspberry. June—my cheesy partner in crime—joins in. " Boo. You're missing out on the finest thing in life."
"I'm missing out on a coronary attack and an endless case of diarrhea."
Listening to them bicker like this, my heart fills with warmth. It brings back memories of afterschool ice cream and bowling nights. Whenever Corey was around, we felt invincible—no bullies would dare come close to us. He wasn't just June's big brother—he was mine, too.
And we were both his little sisters.
Which is why I'm not surprised when, after our delicious brunch arrives, Corey suddenly turns serious. "Look, Apes," he says, glancing around the restaurant with suspicion. "This all looks very nice, but… you're okay, right?"
June draws close to me, nodding along. "Because, you know, if anything's off…"
I give them both a reassuring smile. "I'm okay," I tell them, taking their hands in mine. "I promise."
I don't feel half as confident as that, but I hope it doesn't show. This whole thing with Matvey is… complicated, for lack of a better term. But I still don't think it's dangerous.
Not in a life-or-death way, at least. As for other types of danger… you'd have to ask my traitorous hormones.
"You're sure?" Corey frowns, picking up on my uncertainty. "‘Cause Rob's one hell of a lawyer. I bet he could get you half of everything here, plus full custody. And if he ever lays a hand on you?—"
"Oh, no danger of that," I joke bitterly. "He won't touch me with a ten-foot pole. He's made that very clear."
"That's… good?" Corey tries.
"Of course it's good." I frown. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"I don't know," June says evasively. "You did kinda say it like it was a bad thing, babe."
Did I? As if on command, the back of my hand starts tingling with the memory of his lips. His touch. His warmth. His?—
"Nope," I splutter, chasing that thought firmly away. "Nope. Absolutely not."
"If you say so," Corey says, clearly skeptical. "But my offer still stands. If he so much as raises his voice…"
I shake my head and smile. "He really cares about this baby," I tell Corey, and I mean it. "He cares about family." In his own ominous way, but still. "He wants us to have dinner together every night."
"He wants what ?" the siblings squawk in unison.
"For the baby!" I cut in quickly. "I'm just saying, he cares. And I know… he'll take good care of us."
The words come out of their own accord. The Evanses blink at me in surprise, and I realize I'm surprised, too. Since when do I feel this way?
"Okay," June exhales. "Cool. So when's the wedding?"
I promptly spit out my water.
It takes a good few minutes—and Corey patting me forcefully on the back—for my coughing to subside. " Jay. "
"What?" June asks defensively. "You're his baby mama now. Surely a guy like that will put a ring on your finger?"
I shake my head like a wet Labrador. "I crashed his wedding, in case you forgot."
"With a mobster chick," Corey adds helpfully.
"Yes, with a mobster chick !" I shiver internally at the thought of Petra overhearing anyone calling her that. From what I've seen, that "chick" has claws like a harpy. "So that kind of disqualifies me."
"Does it, though?" June squints. "Plans can change."
Gee, don't I know that? "Not these plans," I mutter. "Trust me."
"Who knows? A smile here, a token of everlasting love there, a bit of lace in the right spot…"
"Jay, please."
"Alright. If you insist. Party pooper."
"Thank you."
"… It's not Mobster Chick he's taking to dinner, though."
I choke again.
Once the waiter's been talked out of calling me an ambulance, we inhale the rest of our food and make a hasty retreat. With my cheeks still filled with fried goodness, I walk my friends to the exit. That's when I notice a familiar face waving to us. "Hey!"
I light up. "Rob!"
Corey bounds up to meet him. "You made it!"
"Of course," Rob says, leaning over to peck him on the lips. "Couldn't miss the chance to say hi, could I?"
He crushes me into a hug. That's the third time today, but I don't mind. After nine months in there, Nugget's a squeeze warrior. "God, I haven't seen you in forever!"
"Guilty as charged," Rob admits. "In my defense, the partners have been riding me like it's the damn Kentucky Derby."
"Price of success, right?" I grin. We all know how hard Rob's been working to become the youngest junior partner at his firm, and we're all one hundred percent behind him. "A little bird told me it's a matter of months ‘til you get the corner office."
"Did he, now?" he says with a sly grin, turning to Corey. "Little bird talks too much."
"Little bird's got spousal privilege. He can do it."
"That's the opposite of how it works, Cor," June pipes up, earning an instant hair ruffle from her brother-in-law.
"Well said, June-bug."
Rob. It feels like yesterday that Corey introduced him to us. Two shy teenagers, holding hands as if that simple gesture took all the courage in the world.
Which I guess it did.
Predictably, Corey's parents didn't take it well. That's when both siblings left the nest—and their nest eggs—behind. They never looked back once.
Last spring, Corey and Rob finally tied the knot. It was so beautiful—I cried like a piglet. But I couldn't help it; not when they looked at each other like there wasn't anybody else in the world.
I remember thinking, This. This is what I want. Nothing less than that look.
Alas, plans change.
"Ms. Flowers," Grisha calls, materializing at my side like the Ghost of Christmas Past. I barely restrain myself from screaming. "Shall we head back?"
It's his way of saying, It's time to go. I appreciate the discretion, but a part of me deflates. I wish moments like these could last forever.
I hug everyone goodbye. "Don't be strangers," I joke, trying to hide how much I mean it.
They all see right through me. "Never," they promise in unison.
Before leaving, June presses something into my hand. "Here."
I open my palm. It's a hair ribbon—a new one.
"Since you keep losing them," she explains. "If you miss me too much, hug it three times and sing the lyrics to Fireworks. I'll appear like Beetlejuice."
"That's very funny."
"I know. I'm hilarious."
I walk back to the elevator in high spirits. Screw Matvey's idea of family— this is my family, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Back at the penthouse, my eyes fall on my workspace. On a scrap of fabric dyed a deep blue, almost violet in the light. A smile here, a token of everlasting love there…
I shake June's voice from my head. No one is making any tokens of everlasting love. But maybe…
I glance at the hair ribbon. Then I look at the fabric strewn all over my workspace.
Maybe , I think, an idea forming in my head, I can give him something else.