rid of mine when I moved to New York. Trust me, this isn’t my vehicle of choice.”
“And what would be?”
“That’s easy,” I teased, opening the door and stepping into the car. “A Maserati. Red. Like all the hearts I plan on breaking.”
My breath caught in my throat. Vic wouldn’t have. We stepped closer, Carter pulling on my hand, his eyes on the car, and I saw an envelope on its windshield, my name printed on the front in black calligraphy.
We stopped before it, and he followed my eyes, his arm reaching out and plucking the white envelope from the windshield.
“Chloe?” My name was a question on his lips, and I stepped back, away from the envelope, away from the question, away from this outrageous gift that would suck me close and run me over.
“Chloe?”
The second time he called my name I was already running inside, my heels loud on the lobby marble then silent on the carpet. I took the stairs, pulling off my stilettos and sprinting, my heart loud, breath hard, and I was winded by the time I got to my apartment and slammed the door shut.
I screamed. Hard and loud enough that a thump sounded from above. Three thumps. The kind a hard heel slammed into the floor makes. I stopped screaming and moved to the couch, punching pillows before grabbing a box of tissues and ripping off a handful. I blotted tears, blew my nose, and cursed Vic’s name.
This car was nothing to him; it was a pawn in a chess match where my heart was the prize, and his strategy was so much better than mine. His strategy was born from a lifetime of having everything, including me. His strategy took risks because he had nothing to lose.
My strategy was to play defense and gamble nothing and protect myself, and I did a shitty job of that when I let him push up my skirt and fuck me in Joey’s trailer.
The knock was soft and gentle. I almost missed it, the timing coinciding with an enormous blow of my nose. When he knocked a second time I stood, walking over to the peephole and looking through it. I sank against the door, almost relieved when I saw it was just Carter.
“Everything okay?” he called out.
“Yeah.” I wiped at my eyes. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries. I’ll just remember, come your birthday, that you don’t like cars.”
I laughed.
“What should I do with the card?”
I should have told him to throw it away. I should have told him to rip it into tiny pieces and stuff it down a garbage disposal. “Can you slide it under my door?”
Through the peephole, I saw the playful grin that crossed his face. “No goodnight kiss?”
I smiled, and a fresh stream of tears leaked out. “Not tonight.”
The white envelope slipped underneath the door. “Thanks,” I said quietly.
“No problem. Good night, Chloe.”
I smiled, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Good night, Carter.”
He turned and left and for a long beat, I stared through the peephole at the empty hallway. Carter would never be able to buy me a Maserati. Did it matter? It felt like my old life was another person entirely. I didn’t want the Maserati out front, not when it put me back with an unfaithful man, back in a life that suddenly felt hollow and superficial.
I bent down and picked up the envelope, running my fingers over the white parchment, my name jotted on its surface in a script that was familiar and one hundred percent Vic.
I ran a finger under the seal and opened the envelope. Pulled out a square card and, with a shaky hand, flipped it open.
This car is fast, like the beat of my heart when you smile. Fierce like your spirit. Incomparably gorgeous, like its new owner.
This is not a bribe or a lure. It is a stick shift, but you’ve never had trouble handling that before.
Enjoy it baby.
Paper-clipped to the back of the card, a folded piece of paper: a car title. I unfolded it carefully and saw my name on the owner’s line, my new address below it.
Typical Vic. The man gave a gift that would be a pain in the ass to give back. My mind spun with all of the issues that having a car in New York would bring. Parking. Insurance. Gas. I couldn’t afford the damn thing, even when it was free. My hands reached for my cell, my fingers dialing Vic’s number, then my brain kicked in and