“So when will you get married?” Ian asks, digging into the huge pile of pancakes that Ian’s private chef places in front of him. The chef smiles at the boys, thrilled to be cooking something besides rare steak and salad. I fall silent, looking between the boys, suspicious. Victor, less prepared, bl
“I know, Victor,” I say, crossing to him and working to be as kind as I can. “But it’s been a lot for them. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I put a reassuring hand on his arm, “You were great. Just…let them go to their home, let them return to normal for a minute so they can process all of this chang
Amelia uses her shoulder to push open the front door, wheeling her carry-on suitcase behind her and pressing her phone to her ear. “The Balenciaga,” she says. “Yeah, listen, I’ve got to go.” She tosses the phone aside, running the last few steps across the room to where Victor is standing, jumping
“They’ll never threaten your position,” Victor had promised her that night, “And Evelyn will fall in line.” She’s already threatening my position, Amelia had thought, but she hadn’t said a word of it. “Bring them over, let me meet them,” Amelia had said, after hours of fighting. “After all, if they
“Please,” I say, clutching the phone and trying to explain the situation to my landlord. “You don’t understand, this is an angry former client who has no grounds for this harassment – “ My boys are at Victor’s house, meeting Amelia, thank god. I don’t want them to hear any of this. “It doesn’t mat
Ian begins, as usual. “They were just so horrible about you, mama,” he says. Alvin sniffs, trying to be brave. “They kept saying you were – you were a prota- prostatute,” he says, pronouncing the word wrong, but getting his meaning across anyway. “They say you have a thousand boyfriends,” Ian goes
“Victor, it’s too much.” These were my first words upon walking up the path to what Victor calls The Cottage, the “little” eight-room house situated directly behind his, separated only by a small grove of trees. Accepting this home went against all of my instincts for self-preservation, self-suffic
“Are you having a good time?” Victor asks, leaning close. Amelia smiles up at him and nods enthusiastically. For the first time in weeks, it’s not a lie. “Where are the boys?” Victor asks, looking around for them. Amelia dances to the music, swinging her hips and laughing. She waves vaguely towar