Her jaw drops just as fast. “Huh? Why? Like, after everything you went through? Why on earth would he do that?”
“Mom told me Alex promised her that he’d leave me and move to Singapore.”
Her eyes widen like a startled owl. “You already spoke to her?”
“In my nightmare, yes.” Then her brows crease in confusion, so I add, “And I don’t think this is a coincidence.”
“Then why did he accept your proposal if he intends to leave you?” she asks, perplexed. “That doesn’t make any sense. And why would he even promise that to your mom? I don’t see Van Dieren making such a promise to her.”
“Neither do I, but I’m sure this nightmare didn’t come out of nowhere.”
“You guys have to talk. I’ve always told you that. You must confront him, and you need to have an open conversation with each other,” she lectures, even though she’s right. “Hiding that pregnancy was fucked up.”
“I know…” My gaze goes down to my lap at the embarrassing truth. “Well, now it’s gone.”
Emma presses her hand to mine. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Her voice is unusually low and serious. “I know it meant a lot to you.”
“It’s alright.” I take a deep breath, silencing the sadness that my heart can hardly bear. “I’m sure she is in a better place looking after me.” As I close my eyes, I recall the loud honk of the truck I was about to crash into and the moment I pressed the brake as much as I could. But it had been too late. “I…” My head begins to pound, my heart speeds up, my breathing becomes fast and shallow as I remember the impact that made me lose her. “I just loved her so much already…” A sob bursts from my lips, and I reach to cover my mouth before it gets worse.
“Hey…” Emma wraps me into a hug as I try to recover from my unwanted emotions. “I’m sure she is.” Her thumb goes to my right cheek, where she wipes away a tear. “I’m here for you, alright?” I nod at her, trying to prevent further tears from falling. “Look, I will stay here for the engagement party, but make sure you speak to your fiancé about your nightmare. You guys need to clear up all of this.”
A knock on the terrace door brings our attention to Cynthia. “Ma’am, sorry to disturb you, but lunch is ready.” She emerges into the lounge and helps me to stand again and get back to my walker. Then she escorts me at a turtle pace to the terrace. I feel pathetic walking so slowly and making Emma wait for me as she walks at my pace, but each movement feels like climbing a mountain. My muscles can barely support my body weight, and I couldn’t imagine myself without Cynthia or this walker.
As we reach the outdoors, I let my eyes take in the beautiful setting Maria has prepared: green plants and white lilies bloom in a milky glass vase at the center of the table. I love the white linen tablecloth she’s chosen—it gives a great summery vibe to the table. Closing my eyes for a second, I take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air of the gardens. Sunshine is on my face and eyelids, covering my cheeks with heat as I listen for a moment to the familiar birds and grasshoppers singing. Ah, summer in Bedford Hills truly has a special aroma. “Janine?” I call, recognizing the familiar voice I hear.
Standing beside Maria, Janine looks over at me, a big grin on her face, and promptly walks over in my direction. “So good to see you back, Ms. Van Gatt.” She gives me a warm embrace, although not too strong so as not to hurt me.
“Ah, here they are!” Dad and Alex stand up from their seats to welcome us. Dad greets Emma with a friendly smile followed by two cheek kisses. “Glad to have you back among us.”
“Thank you, Mr. Van Gatt.”
“Emma,” Alex mumbles when she turns to him.
“Van Dieren,” she replies just as dryly. “Congrats on the engagement. You won the jackpot.”
Smiling back at her, Alex gives me a quick glance and says, “I know.”
While they are already pulling out their chairs and sitting, I’m still slowly making my way toward the chair beside Emma’s.
“I hope they treated you well in jail,” Dad prompts to change the subject. “I’m sorry you had to spend a week there. The judge was not really the most sympathetic. But as you may understand, sharing live videos of an illegal concert and tagging the singers was not really the smartest move.”
Emma grabs a slice of bread from the basket and starts dipping it in olive oil. “It’s okay. It was not smart, but it was fun. I’ll be leaving New York soon anyway.”
“Any place in mind?” Alex asks as they wait for me to sit.
“Um…” Emma garbles around her bite of bread. “Saint-Tropez was dope. I’m thinking of going back there. Jean-Pierre is a longtime friend of my parents, so I should be fine. He said he’d give me diplomatic entry if needed.”
“Who’s Jean-Pierre?” I ask as I proudly sit down without Cynthia’s help.
“The mayor,” Dad replies. “A fine gentleman indeed.”
My eyes go directly to Alex, who’s sitting in front of me. It looks like he’s finally gotten some sleep. I notice he’s changed clothes, sporting a slim white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and three buttons wide open at the collar, leaving his sun-kissed neck and upper chest exposed. Oh boy, I miss running my hands over his chest so much, tasting, kissing, and nibbling his smooth skin…
“Have you guys thought about a date yet?” But Emma’s question shuts down my fantasy, bringing me back to earth.
“A date?” I ask.
“Yeah, for the party. Like, no pressure, but the earlier, the better. I don’t want to stay in New York for much longer.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her comment. “Um, it depends when his family can come over.”
“Mom and Julia suggested in two weeks,” Alex replies. “It might be better to wait until you get back on your feet though.”
“Oh, wow. They already know? I see news travels fast.”
A smile settles on our lips as we look at each other, and I can’t help but feel the heat on my cheeks rising. This time, though, it’s not from the sunlight. Jeez, I still can’t believe I’m engaged to him. And Dad being okay with it? It feels almost too good to be true. “I think in two weeks I should be fine. Who’s attending?”
“Everyone,” he says.
My eyes widen at his response. “You mean everyone everyone?”
“Yes, everyone you saw at Christmas is attending.”
“You can also invite your parents,” I say to Emma. “They have always been so kind to me.”
“Alright, I will.”
Alex starts checking his iPhone and asks, “Should we host the gathering on the eleventh, around six p.m?”
“Sounds good to me,” Emma mumbles as Maria puts some grilled vegetables on her plate.
“Dad?” I ask, looking at him. “Is the evening of the eleventh okay for you?”
“Huh?” Dad looks back at me a bit dazzled, as if he was somewhere else, engrossed in his own thoughts. “Yes, the eleventh is perfect.” After taking a sip of his sauvignon blanc, he adds, “Don’t forget the eighth is the beginning of the fall semester at Columbia.”