The Girlfriend

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jon

"I want you to call me as soon as you land," I told Maritza while hugged her. "I mean it, alright?"

"I know." She huffed and pulled away from me. "It's not like I'm flying the plane myself."

I sighed and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Alright, well, I'll miss you. Do you have a ride to the airport?"

"Yeah, Allie's gonna take me when she gets back."

Allie. I'd gotten Lydia's text that Patrick wasn't home yet and she was out with Alison. It was incredibly awkward to hear them both talk about her in such wildly different ways. She used to call Alison pretentious, I thought, suddenly fighting to hide a smile. I remembered meeting the Montgomery's once or twice, Christine was friendly with Alison's mother – whatever her name was – and I knew they were popular socialites, but I'd never actually met their daughter. Now I heard Lydia and Maritza talking about her all the time and I felt like I was watching the next generation of country club socialites starting to form. Lydia would be the extremely involved mother that brought her kids to play whatever sport they were into that week; I could already see that. Maritza would die before she let her kids step foot on a tennis court. Fuck me, I'm not ready for grandchildren.

"Papa?"

My attention snapped back into focus and I realized I was still holding her hands. I let her go reluctantly, feeling her take that piece of my heart with her that she always took when she left. "Call me," I pleaded again. "Please."

She rolled her eyes but reached up and kissed my cheek. "I love you, okay? I'll call you at some point."

"Thank you."

She smiled and headed back down the stairs, turning to give me a wave before bounding out onto the street. I was never going to get used to her just being gone, no matter how many times I watched her leave, it always felt like the first time. Christine told me that was my guilt for not being there more while Mari was growing up. I didn't know how much I believed her because I was there every moment that I could be, but I still felt like it wasn't enough.

I turned towards the elevators and dragged my feet going back up to the apartment, not wanting to be alone and still unsure where Lydia was since she hadn't answered my most recent text. I wonder when she'll be home. I wonder if Pat's with her. I hadn't heard from him either, I just hoped that he wasn't still with Charles having some top-secret meeting in my office. Stop it.

I clenched my jaw and unlocked the door to the apartment. I would work out until she got home, hopefully, then I would be calmer about the whole situation. I generally preferred working my stress out on former interns with a crop or a cane or a belt, but I was shit out of luck for now. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out immediately.

9:01 PM Patrick

I'll be back in a bit, I've got Italian tonight.

Probably from Fabrizio's. Patrick knew I loved pasta and I was immediately suspicious about the meeting with Charles. I brought him Chinese food when they got back from Poland. We'd eaten lunch together just about every day for more than a decade, we knew exactly what the other person looked for after shitty depositions, hearings, and court dates. I wasn't going to like whatever he had to say.

I didn't respond, instead, I just continued upstairs. As I reached the landing I turned toward the media room and paused; my office door was slightly ajar, the keys hung from the doorknob. Lydia? Where did she find those? Oh, holy fuck, no! I rushed down the hall and pushed the door open in a panic, realizing that she had probably, definitely seen the photos in my bureau.