Invisible Love Letter (22 page)

J
eremy was still living
with his brother.

He’d show up sporadically to pick up his bills and pack fresh clothes, but I never saw him. I knew he had been home because I’d pop into his place, sit on his couch and relive moments we had shared there. Sometimes Lyra and I would lie on his bed and watch television so I could feel him close. She would ask where Jeremy was and when he was coming home. I would say that he was on a business trip but that he still loved her very much.

Though he wouldn't speak to me, every other day when we got home there would be a new voicemail from Jeremy solely directed towards Lyra. He’d tell her that he missed her, ask how school was, and even read her a bedtime story. My heart ached. I thought I was alone when Leslie left and I was pregnant with Lyra, but this was a new low. My heart was broken into two pieces, one for each man.

It was mid-December and SoCal PR was closing for the holiday season. I’d still have to be active for any crisis that arose, but I was free to take a vacation. I didn’t want to wallow in a lonely house, so I booked tickets for Lyra and me to Brazil. I was taking her home to meet my aunt.

The plane ride to Brazil was long but well worth it. For the first few days we sat at her kitchen table, drank coffee and caught up on our lives. I never mentioned Jeremy nor Weston, and for all she knew, Lyra was a one-night stand that led to me having a child.

I woke up Christmas morning with Lyra wrapped in my arms. I had expected to feel sadness for being alone on Christmas Day, but I knew that as long as I had Lyra I would never be alone. I hopped out of bed and decided I would make breakfast for my aunt and uncle. Lyra helped by whipping up the eggs. When my aunt walked into the kitchen, her small frame body came up behind me and embraced me.

“
Feliz Natal minha filha. Que Deus te proteja e que ele enche a sua vida com amor
.” Merry Christmas, my daughter. May God protect you and fill your life with love.

“Merry Christmas!” Lyra shouted as she ran towards us. Her little arms wrapped around my legs.

My aunt clucked at me and slightly shook her head. “I can't believe you never taught her Portuguese.”

L
yra
and I spent Christmas in the heart of Rio and then we rang in the New Year on the beach of Copacabana. As the fireworks lit the midnight sky, I promised myself that the New Year would be different. The lying had to stop.

After a week in the sun and eating more
salgadinhos
then I could count, Lyra and I were headed back home. I led us through the airport and toward check-in. The monitor showed my LAX flight and then a flight to Chicago right under it. My mind began to spin.

I paid a hefty amount in fees, but it was worth the price to hop on the plane to Chicago. It was December and Lyra and I hadn't packed for the frigid Chicago winter, so I stopped by a terminal shop and spent a weekly salary on new clothes.

I desperately needed an old friend, and a fresh start that didn't consist of lying.

T
he car ride
from O'Hare Airport to Leslie’s downtown brownstone apartment took nearly two and a half hours—
talk about traffic!
I walked up the few flights of steps with my suitcase in one hand and Lyra in the other and rang the doorbell to my friend’s apartment. I was showing up unannounced, so I didn't know if she would even be home. I rang the doorbell again and waited. Lyra looked up at me, her little nose scrunched in confusion.

“We'll just wait a few more minutes. If no one answers, we'll go to a hotel and get hot chocolate.”

I should have called.

I should have warned Leslie I was coming.

As I turned to go back down the stairs, the door pulled back. A groggy Leslie stood at the threshold. “Can I help you?” she questioned.

“Hi,” I tried to sound hopeful.

Leslie’s face changed when she realized that
I
was standing on her doorstep. Her eyes grew wide as she looked down at Lyra whose hands gripped mine like a vice. “Oh, my God … You kept her.”

“Can we not do that here?” I nodded toward Lyra.

“Oh! Of course. Come on in. I'm sorry, I was sleeping. I didn't expect you,” Leslie rambled.

“Don't be sorry. I'm the one who showed up unannounced.”

She led us inside and closed the door behind her. Her arms opened and I immediately hugged her. It was a hug I desperately needed from a dear friend. Lyra tugged at my side. “This is mommy's best friend.” I looked at Leslie. “Les, this is Lyra.”

Leslie crouched down until she was eye level with Lyra. “It's so nice to finally meet you. Can I have a hug?”

Lyra looked up at me and I smiled. She then turned to Leslie and wrapped her little arms around her neck. Leslie cradled Lyra as she held on. Leslie looked up at me and mouthed,
You gave her the name he picked?
I slowly nodded. Leslie pulled away. “You must be tired, little one. That flight from Los Angeles is really long.”

“Actually, we’re coming from Brazil. We spent the holidays there and decided to do a last-minute stop here before heading back home.”

“Oh, my goodness! You girls must be exhausted. Come on. Can I get you something to drink, eat? Lyra, would you like some juice?” Leslie ushered us to the couch. She quickly made a fresh pot of coffee and brought out juice and cookies for Lyra.

Lyra lay on the couch, her eyes slowly closing as she watched cartoons while we sat at Leslie's round dining room table. The coffee mug warmed my hands and my head hung low. I was unable to meet Leslie's questioning gaze.

She broke the awkward silence. “Emilia, what are you doing?”

It was a question I had asked myself for a very long time. Tears merged in my eyes as I stared down at my black coffee. “The day I went into labor, I met Jeremy. I was four weeks early. I was going to call you, but it all happened so fast. I'd planned on giving her up, but the nurse lay her on my chest and I knew I couldn't. She had these big gray eyes and I fell in love with her instantly. Jeremy stayed with me through the whole delivery. He's been with me since day one. He pulled me out of a dark hole, but the day he asked me to marry him happened to be the same day Weston walked into my office and became a client.”

“But Lyra?” She shook her head slowly. “Why didn't you tell me about her? Or tell Weston?”

“I was selfish. I wanted to keep her all to myself. But now Jeremy knows because Weston wrote a song about her and my whole life is falling apart!”

“What?”

I fixed my gaze on Leslie. “I think we're going to need something stronger than coffee.”

T
he bottle
of tequila sat in the center of the table, and an empty shot glass rested between my fingers as I told Leslie everything that had happened from the beginning. I explained to her how Jeremy made me fall in love with him, and how hard it was to have Lyra but how Jeremy made it easier. I admitted to falling in love with Weston the second he walked in my door, and I confessed that the love I shared with Weston could never be replaced by anything else. I took my third shot of tequila when I told Leslie I had slept with Weston again, and Leslie took a shot when I told her Chelsea was now pregnant and Weston still didn’t know about Lyra.

“No offense, chica,” Leslie rose from the table to get more lime wedges, “but this sounds like a Jerry Springer show.”

I threw my head back and laughed for the first time in a long time. Leslie was right—this was right out of a tabloid talk show. Leslie returned from the kitchen with a cutting board and a new lime in her hand. “What are you going to do, though? Are you going to tell Weston about Lyra? Are you going to call Jeremy and tell him to come back home?”

“That's why I’m here. I need your help.”

“Jeremy is waiting for you, and Weston is still Lyra’s dad. Running to Brazil or to Chicago isn't going to change that. We're adults now—we have to stand up for our actions.”

“I don't like being a grown-up,” I complained, pouring myself another shot of tequila.

After a few moments, Leslie spoke. “I'm sorry for blaming you for Harry’s death.”

My eyes were soaked with tears. “I'm sorry, too.”

“The things I said to you … I didn't … I was going through a really hard time, Em.”

I shook my head. “I'm the one who's sorry. I lied to you about Lyra, and I pushed you away. Apparently it's this thing I do—I lie to the ones I love.” Leslie rose from her chair and walked over to me. Drunk as skunks, we held each other as we continued to apologize. 

We switched from tequila to water, and Leslie ordered take-out for dinner. We were picking at the Pad Thai container when Leslie had a brilliant idea—or so she
thought
it was a brilliant idea.

“I have the most brilliant idea. I have the next two weeks off work, so why don't I go back to LA with you?”

“You have the next two weeks off? Why?”

“Because my company sucks and vacation days are based on seniority. I'm still the newbie around there, so I can't take any time off around the holidays, and I figured the first two weeks of the year would be best since it leaves everyone else to do the crappy work of the new fiscal year.”

I had to appreciate her reasoning. “I would love the company.” I nodded. Having Leslie around would be a distraction. I would focus on entertaining her, and not dwell on Weston or Jeremy. 

“Okay, it's settled. I'll get to bond with my little niece,” she looked over at Lyra and then back at me, “while you figure out what you're doing with your life.”

“But first, can we do some retail therapy?” I gave Leslie my saddest puppy dog eyes.

“But of course!”

W
e were home
from winter break and I was back into the swing of things, including working late on my birthday. Leslie was leaving in two days and I was already dreading it. I had my friend back and Lyra had grown used to having Titi Les around.

Leslie had pushed the subject of doing dinner for my birthday, but I didn’t want to plan anything. It wasn’t that I didn't like celebrating my birthday, but that would always be linked to Weston. It also didn't help that Jeremy hadn’t been home. To be fair, I still had no clue what to make of our situation. Weston was with Chelsea, but I didn't want Jeremy to be my fall back. I loved Jeremy, but I knew in my heart that the love I had for him was a fraction of what I felt for Weston.

Was that fair? Because you can't have your soul mate, do you settle for the next best thing and continue to live your life never fully satisfied? Was that marriage? Was that the definition of happily ever after?

I sat at my desk with my eyes glued to the computer screen, so distracted by my own thoughts that I missed him entering my office.

“Happy Birthday,” he sang.

I jumped. “Holy crap! You scared the freaking life out of me.” I stood and tugged my skirt lower.

Weston chuckled and walked around my desk. Placing a soft chaste kiss on my cheek, he handed me a bouquet of lilies. “I tapped on the door, but you didn't look up.”

“Work,” I said before lifting the bouquet to my nose. “You remembered that they’re—”

“Your favorite.” He smiled. “And I also remembered you’d be the type who would work on her birthday.”

“How's Chelsea?”

“She's . . . “ He lowered his gaze to the floor for a few beats. “She—”

“Mommy!” Weston's words were cut off by the little one running towards my office. “Happy Birthday!”

Our
little one.

The following seconds moved in slow motion.

Weston spun in the direction of the door, and the bouquet of flowers dropped from my hands as my mind and heart realized what was about to happen.

“Lyra Skye Darcy!” Leslie shouted from behind her. “What did Titi Les tell you about running away?” My eyes closed. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't how he was supposed to find out.

Lyra gripped my legs and my body was running on a shot of anxiety that was working its way through me. I opened my eyes to look down at her. Her gray eyes smiled up at me—Weston’s eyes—and my own began to form tears. He would hate me for the rest of his life.

“Oh shit,” Leslie said when she walked into my office. Weston’s gaze scanned hers for some kind of answer, then he turned his attention back to me. I could see the thoughts running through his mind.

I scooped up Lyra in my arms and held her. “Hi, sweet pea.” Lyra wrapped her arms around my neck even tighter. “Why don't you go with Titi and get a candy bar from the vending machine? Mommy needs to talk to her friend, okay?” I said in a surprisingly calm voice.

“Yay!” Lyra cheered. She hopped out of my arms and dragged Leslie out of my office.

Weston looked as if he'd seen a ghost. “Is she . . . “ He shook his head. “Is…” His voice broke. “How old is she?” I didn't answer him as I closed my office door. “Is she mine?” Weston barked from behind me.

I turned and rested my back on the door, my head hung low as I answered him, “Yes.”

“She's mine?” he asked in disbelief.

I nodded slowly. A few tears dropped from my eyes. “Yes, she’ll be four in a few months.”

“Dammit, Emilia!” He kicked my bouquet. White petals shot up like confetti. “Lyra?” He paced the length of my office, his hands gripping his hair. “Lyra Skye?” His gaze seared me.

“I'm—”

“Don’t you dare say sorry! I've been a father for almost four years and you never said a word,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I tried—”

“Bullshit! You should’ve tried every fucking day! Every day since she was born you should have tried to tell me.” Weston’s hands rested on my table. His head was low, his heart broken into a million pieces. I heard the whimpers escaping his body. I couldn't speak; the guilt of keeping his daughter away from him pressed on my heart.

“She has my eyes,” he cried.

“I know.”

“And your hair.”

“Yes.”

“Exactly how we imagined she would look. Does she know who I am?” Weston sniffled and wiped his eyes before turning to face me.

“No.” I shook my head as I swallowed a cry.