Page 97 of The House Guest
It was mid-morning, and I had an hour before it was time to get Rosie from preschool. This was always the time of day when I was tempted to search Dorian’s name online or even pick up the phone and call to see how he was doing. But nothing good could come from reopening wounds still in the process of healing. So I resisted.
The doorbell rang, and I opened the door to find a delivery man holding a small package.
“I’m gonna need your signature for this, ma’am.”
“Sure.” I signed his electronic pad and took the box. When I saw the name on the return label, my stomach dropped.Dorian Vanderbilt.
I took the box to the kitchen before rummaging through my junk drawer for scissors. My hands shook. After carefully slicing through the tape, I opened the package. Inside was a small box. When I lifted the cover, I nearly fell back at the sight of a sparkling engagement ring.
What?
Why?
Has he lost his mind?
The diamond had to be at least four carats.
There was a note inside.
Primrose, after my father passed away, his and Christina’s personal belongings that had been with them at the time of their deaths were shipped to me inBoston. One of the items was Christina’s engagement ring. I’d kept it in a safe deposit box at my bank. Recently, I went back to Boston and cleared everything out. As you’re Christina’s next of kin, I believe you should keep this ring. I hope you’re doing well. -Dorian
Now that I looked more closely at the ring, I did recognize it as Aunt Christina’s. She didn’t always wear it, but I had seen it a couple of times. My heart pounded. What the hell had I been thinking? That he was sending me a proposal in the mail? Begging me to change my mind?
I stared at the ring for several minutes, the sun in my kitchen sparkling off what I was sure was a flawless diamond—absolutely beautiful yet so bittersweet because this had been on Christina’s hand when she died. This was my opportunity to have what might’ve been her most cherished item. It was an honor.
I reread the note a few times. So formal. No salutation at the end. He’d just signed itDorian. I understood completely, even if I hated that after everything we’d been through, this was the only type of communication we had left.
I walked the box out to the recycle bin and almost discarded it before I noticed one other item inside with the tissue paper. My chest constricted at the sight of it.
A single red rosebud.
Oh, my heart.
My Dorian.
***
A week later, I was scrolling social media, once again fighting the urge to search Dorian’s name online. Over the past week, I’d caved and searched more times than I could count.
He didn’t have social media accounts that I could find. That made it easier for me. But his friend Candace did have social media. And if I checkedherpage daily, as I tended to do on my phone at night, one of these days I was going to see something that would upset me.
I’d first browsed Candace’s page with genuine curiosity. Once Dorian had told me she was doing well and had two kids now, I had to see it for myself. I’d felt so much joy as I scrolled through the photos of her and Chandler playing with their beautiful kids. But months later, I knew my daily checking had everything to do with getting a glimpse of Dorian. To torture myself? Maybe. But also to see if he was okay, and to maybe catch a smile on his face so I didn’t have to feel so terrible about my decision.
But today I got more than I’d bargained for.
Candace had posted a photo taken at what I recognized as the pool area at Dorian’s mansion. Chandler lifted their beautiful little boy into the air from the water, but the background is what caught my attention. I used my thumb and index finger to zoom in on what looked to be Dorian sitting in one of the lounge chairs with a woman leaning against his chest. It was a little blurry, yet she seemed beautiful. No surprise there. She also seemed to have an amazing figure. My heart sank. Why did I have to have this reaction?
I wanted Dorian to move on, didn’t I? That’s what I’d told myself. But in all reality,mostof what I’d told myself these past few months had been disingenuous. I was the only one who knew that every moment I’d spent away from Dorian since he came to Ohio had been agonizing. And I wasn’t doing all that great a job being discreet about my online research, either. This past week, Casey had asked me more than once what I was doing on the computer while he sat on the other side of the living room watching TV. I’d blown it off and said I was just scrolling.
I was about to leave Instagram when I noticed that the photo I’d been looking at was actually the first in a slideshow ofmultiplephotos. The temptation was real. Adrenaline coursed through me as I debated whether to slide my finger across to the left to look at the other images.
My finger hovered until I finally bit the bullet and swiped. The second image was Candace applying sunscreen to her little girl. The third was Dorian and Chandler holding up their beers. I lingered on that one because it was the first time I’d gotten a good look at Dorian’s face since I last saw him. He looked so beautiful with his black hair slicked back from the water. How I missed a lazy day at the pool with him. My heart beat faster with every second. Had I made the right choice in keeping my family together? I wasn’t sure. But my love for Dorian had never been up for debate. I’d always love him. A part of me had still loved him even when I thought he’d intentionally ended us.
I braced myself and finally swiped to the last photo. My heart sank, because it was exactly what I’d dreaded: a close-up and clearer version of Dorian’s new girlfriend,sitting on his lap with her arm around him. As the blood rose to my face, I whispered to myself, “This is what you wanted. You need him to move on so you can move on withyourlife. This is good. You should be happy for him.”
All lies.
Consumed by jealousy, I didn’t realize my finger was still on the image until a giant heart appeared on the screen.
