“Come on, Mom,” Lucy says as I help her climb onto the stool.
“Yeah, come on, Mom,” I add with a wink, and am rewarded with the most epic eye roll. Saylor marches into the kitchen and makes a cup of coffee with so much force that Lucy whispers to me, “She’s grouchy without coffee.”
Duly noted, kid. Next time, I come with coffee. Something tells me that if I can get Lucy to like me, she’ll spill all the secrets about her mother. All’s fair when it comes to love, right?
Ten
Saylor
“I like Travis,” Lucy says as she skips along the sidewalk while holding my hand. The arm-jerking motion is wearing, but I allow her to do this. I like Travis, too, but I don’t tell her that. She has never seen me with a man, and honestly I don’t know how I would explain dating to her if I were to start. She’s always been my priority, aside from my job.
“He’s nice,” I tell her.
“Is he coming over for dinner?”
“No. I’m sure he’s having dinner at his own house.” Which, according to his press release, is probably takeout from the local Chinese restaurant like the other day.
“We should invite him over. I think he would like chicken fingers,” Lucy says, as if everyone in the world loves chicken fingers. Thankfully, we arrive at her school, and her suggestion is thwarted.
“Have a good day, sweetie. Grandma will pick you up later.” I kiss her on the nose and wait for her to move toward her cubby.
“Maybe my new friend Travis can pick me up.”
I groan internally and make a mental note to thank Travis…for what, I don’t know. Lucy is five and infatuated with everything new that comes into her life. By the time I get home from work tonight, she’ll have forgotten about Travis, and we can move on.
Except after last night, I’m torn. He makes me want to try with him, but it’s impossible. I’d have to give up my job, and while others may be able to do this and have another job waiting in the wings for them, my reputation would be tarnished. I don’t think he understands that. And he can’t give up his, not that I would ever ask him to. I have to accept the fact that everything between us needs to remain professional.
I wave at Lucy, and she reminds me to ask Travis to dinner by yelling across her classroom. I try not to roll my eyes at the thought, but there’s no way in hell I’m inviting him over. Last night was a fluke. He came to me in a time of need, and hopefully he won’t do it again, even if I want him to.
As I walk among the crowds of people trying to make it to work, my phone rings with an unknown number. It’s not uncommon, and usually I send them to voice mail, but with the case against Travis and my determination to paint him in a bright, shining light, I answer. “Saylor Blackwell.”
“Hello, Saylor.”
I abruptly stop, and the person behind me crashes into me. He mumbles something unintelligible, and all I can do is offer him a smile in return while I hold my phone to my ear.
I haven’t heard the voice of Elijah Henry in years. Not since I told him I was pregnant, to which he replied, “I’m married.” For eight months we dated, attending social events throughout the city, hand in hand, posing for pictures that made the front page of the newspaper. The prominent lawyer from Virginia who came to Boston to teach for a semester caught my eye. I was in my second year of law school when we met, and I fell in love hard.
Our romance was a whirlwind, fairy-tale story. I moved out of my drafty loft and into his high-rise penthouse. He helped me study and ace my exams and took me on a cruise for Christmas. Even though we had just begun dating, I expected a ring. He had hinted at it a few times, and I tried not to let my sadness show when he placed a diamond necklace around my neck instead.
Absentmindedly, my hand goes to my neck to feel for the necklace that no longer hangs there. When he left, I had no choice but to sell it. I was homeless, without a job, scared, and pregnant. If my mother hadn’t moved to Boston, I don’t know what I would’ve done.
“Saylor?” He says my name again, but this time with a sigh. I don’t care if I’m making him wait. I need to get over the shock of hearing his voice. I need the memories of him to stop flooding back so I can focus on why he’s calling. Lucy. He wants to see her, according to the letter he wrote.
“What do you want, Elijah?”
“Is that any way to treat me?”
I scoff and blurt out, “Yes, it is.” I don’t need to remind him that he left me, that he cheated on me with another woman and married her while we were still together. He bed hopped, going from her to me, and never thought once about how that would make me feel. There’s a part of me that thinks if I hadn’t gotten pregnant with Lucy, we’d still be together, living a lie.
“Look, what happened in the past…it’s water under the bridge.”
“What do you want, Elijah? I’m busy, and now isn’t a good time.”
“Make the time, Saylor. I’ll be in town at the end of the week, and I want to see you.”
So he wants to see me, not Lucy? Not that I want him seeing her, but why doesn’t he ask about her? I start walking again and head toward my train station.
“I’m about to enter the station. I’ll call you later,” I tell him, hoping that he gets the hint.