“What?”
“Under certain circumstances, if the NDA pertains to illegal activity, it becomes null and void and cannot be enforced,” she says, reading his message. “If your sister’s ex-husband’s arrangement falls under spousal support fraud, the NDA cannot be enforced and the signee of the NDA is free to report and/or testify.”
“Yeah, but you’d think Hunter would know that,” I say, face tightening into an incredulous glare. “It doesn’t make sense. He’s smart. He wouldn’t put himself at risk like that.”
“I’ve never known anything to stop Hunter from getting what he wants. Have you?” she asks. “Maybe the reward outweighed the risk?”
Sighing, I say, “Yeah. I could see that.”
I could also see him thinking his wealth made him immune to the law.
“So this is good, right? If the NDA doesn’t hold, that means you can talk to Jude about everything,” she says.
“It doesn’t change anything though. It doesn’t justify what he did. I think … I think I just need to let this go,” I say the words I’ve been telling myself every single day for weeks now. They’ve yet to sink in.
“Do you miss him?”
The car pulls up outside The Jasper and Cameo pays the tab on her phone before we climb out and stand beneath the black awning outside the entrance.
I try to answer her, only I can’t.
“You hesitated,” she says, pointing at me. “That’s a yes.”
“Look. We had fun together. And I miss the fun we had when I thought it was real and that he liked me, but—”
“—Love, it was real,” she cuts me off, eyes rolling yet again. “The pretenses might have been false, but he liked you. It was written all over his face the week of the wedding. I saw it every time he looked at you, every time he put his hand on the small of your back or brushed your hair out of your eyes or kissed you on your forehead for no reason.”
I squint, trying to wrap my head around the fact that my sister was able to see any of that when she was stuck inside her Bridezilla bubble.
Maybe I don’t give her enough credit sometimes …
“And all those embarrassing stories I shared? I was testing him. And Love … he passed.” She chuckles, like she’s so proud of her prowess. “Bet you thought I was just being a brat.”
“Amongst other things.”
Cameo nudges me with a lanky elbow. “I know we haven’t always had a perfect relationship and we couldn’t be more different, but you’re my little sister and you’ve always been there for me, and believe it or not, I care about you.”
Our matching eyes hold, and I can’t decide if I’m touched or weirded out by this Hallmark moment.
“This feels … unnatural,” I say.
Cameo’s serious expression fades and she bursts into laughter. “Extremely. Anyway, I’m going to head to my hotel because I’m exhausted, but call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Cam.” I give her a wave because I think we’re both still too weirded out to hug right now, and I watch as her heels clip up the sidewalk, making the short walk to The Peninsula Hotel.
Heading inside, I stop first and take a detour toward the other side of the building, stopping at the fountain in the courtyard for no reason other than I’m not quite in the mood to hole up for the night yet.
Taking a seat on an empty bench, I listen to the trickle of the water, wishing my dad were here so I could ask him what he thinks. He was always so good with relationships, his advice always heartfelt yet practical and always perfect.
Pulling my bag over my head, I place it beside me and cross my legs. I don’t know how long I plan to stay here, but I’ve got nowhere else to be so it doesn’t matter anyway. A few moment later, I realize I’m sitting on the very bench I lost my quarter under the night I met Jude, but I don’t search for it.
It’s got to be long gone.
Just like everything else.
Drawing in a balmy, summer’s breath, I think back to our last full day together before I was smacked upside the head with the truth. We were flying back from West Virginia and our flight was delayed six hours due to mechanical problems. Under any other circumstances, it would’ve put a damper in my day, but I didn’t think twice about it because I just remember thinking I could be anywhere with Jude and still find a way to enjoy it.
We spent those listless hours playing Mad Libs, eating Starbursts, and reading magazines. In the middle of the afternoon, he bought a Cinnabon and let me have the middle. When we finally loaded onto our plane a lifetime later, I realized I’d lost my earbuds. He gave me one of his over the course of our flight, introduced me to some of the most incredible bands I never knew existed.
Every time I looked at him that day, I just remember thinking, “How did I get so lucky?”
The shuffle of footsteps heading toward the courtyard places me back here, firmly planted in a reality where those moments are no longer relevant.
A young couple saunter up to the fountain, and the man digs into his pocket for some change.
“What are you going to wish for?” he asks, placing a shiny quarter in her hand.
I leave.
Forty-Eight
Jude
* * *
It’s our last day on site at Lenox Hill. Next assignment will be some apartment building being renovated in the Meat Packing District, so I won’t be in Love’s neighborhood after today.
For the past couple of weeks, I kept hoping I’d run into her one more time, but our paths never crossed—just like they were probably never meant to cross in the first place.
Heading back from the deli on my lunch break, I stop at the fountain by The Jasper one last time. This morning when I was getting ready for work and realizing it was going to be my last day on this job, I grabbed Love’s quarter off my dresser and dropped it in my pocket.
I’ve never been a nostalgic person. I’ve never been one to hold onto material things and give them some kind of value based on whether or not they once belonged to someone … but this quarter is different. It represents mistakes. Heartbreak and fear, joy and loss, hope. But mostly it represents Love, and I need to let it go.
Approaching the west side of the fountain, I spot a small plaque on the side that I never noticed before. The inscription reads, “A man, when he wishes, is the master of his fate.”
I don’t know about that, but at this point, I have nothing to lose. Sliding the quarter from my pocket, I twist the coin between the pads of my fingers, trying to convince myself to toss it in and watch it sink to the bottom.
But I can’t.
The apartment is unusually quiet for a Friday night, and I find a note on the kitchen table from Lo, letting me know she took the girls to the park. She’s got every other weekend off, so I don’t have to babysit the girls tonight.
A bunch of guys from work invited me out tonight for beer and the sports bar down the street is playing the Mets game, so I might stop there on the way.
I make my way to my room and strip out of my work clothes, tossing them into a plastic hamper in the corner next to my guitars—the ones I haven’t touched in weeks. I haven’t had the urge to play since I left The Jasper, and sometimes I worry if it’ll ever come back.