Page 54

MAK: Ok. I get it.

I hold my stomach with one hand and try not to cry. As if holding my stomach will stop all the ugly thoughts flooding my damn head. I wiggle around and try to shake it off. One second, I was his Makenzie, and the next, he hung up on me. It’s like what happened on the Vineyard. The switch between my Tony and theirs.

I jump up and down trying to push it all back behind the Lego wall I’ve constructed where I tuck away painful memories. I won’t wallow, like I did then. But I can’t stop this shit from weighing me down right now.

I sit on the edge of the pullout, and I can see it so clearly. The memory of him only introducing me to certain calculated people at his Vineyard birthday soiree. I wasn’t at his side or any part of his life at this party. It was just like this, two different Tonys. Then it was as if he put me up on a shelf. As if I should wait for him to come and play with me when no one was looking. I was sectioned off in the corner once people arrived at the party.

His parents threw this large, catered, and insanely over-the-top eighteenth birthday party. And he floated between groups of friends, family friends, and people older than himself. There was family all about, or so I’m told. There’s no way I’d know, because other than his brother and some quick and dismissive words from his parents, I was introduced to no one. Colt, Hayden, Law, and Robbie all smiled and waved but at that point Hayden was devastated about Lizzie and I was viewed as the enemy. So, I left. I never want to feel dismissed. And other than right now, I haven’t. I’m not sure how long it took for him to notice I left, but it seemed like hours before he texted asking where I was. And then we were done.

This feels the same for some reason. Different worlds and all that shit. But dammit, if I didn’t get swept up again. My heart’s breaking, like it did then, but I know it’s the right thing, despite how I feel about him. The lies I’ve told, and this shitty feeling make it impossible to have him.

That was our last call.

tony

Ihate hanging up on the only good thing in my life these days. But Laura’s here stealing my things. It’s my chance to catch her. I’ve noticed things missing: The caviar set, a couple bottles of expensive wine, the crystal cut goblets. I’m like her personal wedding section at Bergdorf’s, but instead of registering, she’s shoplifting.

The lawyers banned her, but the day doorman is charmed by my almost ex-wife. She doesn’t know I’m here. I took the day off, something I never do. But Mak said I looked tired and should have a nothing day. So that’s what I did, and talking to her was going to be the icing on my cupcake of the day. Screeching to a halt when I heard the lilting fake laugh as she thanked the doorman.

I’m in the hallway, and she’s in the library with my artwork. I have two Kandinsky’s and a couple of small Matisse drawings, and she once told me it was the reason she believed I was more than meets the eye. Fuck that. I’m so tired of proving I’m more than my money or my fuck-ups. She hammers home every terrible thing I’ve said about myself.

I listen.

“Bring the crates in here. Chop, chop, everyone.” I pull my phone back out and call 911. I fucking hate it when Laura says that phrase. Her mother uses it all the time.

“What’s your emergency?”

“It’s a domestic situation in which my ex-wife, who legally can’t be here, is currently in my house stealing from me.”

“Not quite an emergency, but I’ll send some officers over.”

“Please hurry, she’ll be out of here in ten minutes.”

“Sure. Sure. 1 Franklin Street?”

“Yes. Penthouse.”

“That Penthouse?”

“Yes. That one. Tell Randall to let you up.”

I toss my phone back into the pocket of my sweats and pad down the hallway. I round the corner, still waiting for someone to see me.

Shit, she is taking the Noguchi coffee table and the fucking Eames loungers. Didn’t see that coming. She must have seen the insurance appraisal report of my belongings. I thought I was the only one who had it.

I’ve offered her quite a lot of money and the house in the Catskills that she insisted we buy. She was guaranteed the stupid Palm Beach condo she and her mother picked out. And then there’s the shit-ton of cash. But this is beyond. If she wants these things, she can pay for them. They’re padding and wrapping up my furniture, and there are wooden crates and white gloves, so she brought art preparatory here too. I document the entire thing, and as she comes bopping around the corner in her perfectly tailored cream suit, her mouth falls open. I capture the exact moment she sees me.

“Tony.” She gasps.

I won’t be aggressive and hostile like I want to be because there are witnesses, and the police will be here any moment. But who knows what will go down because the one thing I’ve learned in this divorce: I never knew her.

I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Laura. What a lovely surprise.”

“I’m collecting a few things. Don’t you have the team meeting today?”

I grab an apple off my kitchen counter and take a bite. “Canceled. Took the day off.”

Her head whips so fucking fast I wish I had it on a boomerang. “You did what? You never take time off.”