Chapter 1
Charlie
Maybe there is a rational explanation for all of this.
I twist my ring around my finger and pull it off my knuckle. Tears blur my eyes as I stare out at the water. Happy people walk the path behind me, and the air is full of typical New York City sounds.
Cars honking.
People laughing.
People arguing.
Music playing.
Hearts breaking.
I squeeze my eyes shut and a fat tear rolls down my cheek. Of course today of all days, I chose not to wear waterproof mascara. I look up, blinking back the tears. The only thing worse than crying in public is going back to work and having people ask me about it.
Though there’s a good chance I can’t go back. That I won’t be able to bring myself to walk through that set of double doors, across the busy lobby, and press the elevator button to take me up to the office.
Because he’s there.
And I know there’s not a rational explanation for all of this.
Part of me wishes I hadn’t seen what I did. I wouldn’t be standing here in the middle of Central Park debating if throwing myself off this bridge is a better option than facing the truth. I wouldn’t be desperately trying to patch my heart back together before it falls into a million pieces too little to gather up and glue into place.
And I wouldn’t feel so stupid, because I should have seen this coming.
He’d postponed the wedding twice. Went out for drinks “with the guys” when I knew the guys hadn’t made plans to go out. Yet…I wanted to trust him. I wanted to get married and have a fairytale life.
I’m living a fairytale, all right. Just not the kind with a happy ending.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I whirl around, bumping my knee on the side of the bridge, and see a homeless woman making her way over. There are a tragic number of homeless people in the city, but I’m a bit familiar with this woman. I’ve seen her on my morning runs through the park, and I gave her a coat, boots, gloves, and a hat last winter.
There’s something about her that made her stand out to me, and it’s not just because she slightly reminds me of the Bird Lady from the second Home Alone movie. One of the things that shocked me the most when I first moved from Eastwood to NYC was how easily people walk by and ignore the less fortunate.
And this woman…for some reason, I noticed her. And then noticed her again. She’s not that much older than me and I can’t help but wonder what happened in her life that led her to be in this situation.
“Do what?” I sniffle.
“Throw expensive jewelry into the water like that old bitch from the Titanic.”
I don’t have a response to that. I push the ring back on my finger and try to blot up a tear with my finger. It doesn’t work.
“If you’re just going to throw it away, you can give it to me.” She shuffles a bit closer. “I’ll pawn it and use the money for booze,” she admits with a shrug and then laughs. “Well, not all of the money. But a lot of it.”
I blink a few times and try to get my head back on straight. “Are you hungry?” I ask her and she nods. “Want to get something to eat? I could really use some company right now.”
* * *
The homeless woman—whose name is Jolene—rips into the bread that’s in a basket in the center of the table. “So, did he cheat on you?” She dips the bread into her pasta sauce and takes a bite. I haven’t said much since we sat down at my favorite Italian restaurant. Out of habit, I ordered my usual pasta dish with the world’s best side-salad.
Once the food came, the smell of the creamy pasta sauce soured my stomach. He was with me the first time we came here, discovering this little gem of a restaurant tucked behind a cell phone store. I ordered tea instead, but haven’t been able to bring myself to even take a drink yet.
“Yes,” I admit, and my throat closes up. Memories flash before me, just like they do when your life is ending. I squeeze my eyes closed and take a deep breath as guilt starts to creep down my neck. I’m sitting here feeling like my life is over. Like there’s no way I can recover from this. Like everything is too much of a mess to even try.
But I’m alive. I’m healthy. I have a job and a place to sleep tonight. Still, I can’t help the pain that’s radiating through me.
And the anger.
“You walk in on it or something?” Jolene asks and I shake my head.
“I wasn’t snooping,” I start, turning the white teacup around on the saucer. Steam billows up out of the cup. “I ran home to feed Tulip and then couldn’t remember where I left my phone.” I pick up the lemon wedge and slowly squeeze it over my tea. “So I grabbed his iPad to text myself, you know, so I’d hear my phone dinging. And then I saw the texts from his assistant. I know you can’t always interpret things in print the way they might be implied in real life, but there’s only one way I miss your cock and I want you inside me again can be taken.”