Page 63 of Committed to You

I gape. “That’s why the park is important to her?”

“Her parents finally received some assistance and got into government housing. They learned English, and her dad put himself through night school to become an accountant. Eventually, they got off assistance. Vivian saved money from every commission check she made and bought them a house. I think it’s why she became a real estate agent.”

Vivian’s voice says in my head, “Helping people find their home, somewhere safe, where so many memories are going to be created, just feels like I’m making a difference in people’s lives. It probably sounds silly, but that’s how I feel I’m able to impact the world right now.”

“Move to New York, and I’ll give you all my listings,” I told her.

I curse myself again. Vivian was talking about impacting the world, and all I was doing was talking about giving her listings, thinking about the commission she could make.

“God, I’m an asshole.”

“Why are you an asshole?” Dawn asks.

I sigh. “Long story.”

Dawn narrows her gaze. “Can I be candid with you?”

“Please.”

“You’re making some pretty grand gestures. Are you in the doghouse?”

I chuckle. “That’s one way to put it. But I’m not doing this because I think Vivian will forgive and forget. I’m not trying to buy her. I only want to help her.”

Dawn replies, “I don’t think you’re trying to buy her. But I’ve known Vivian for a long time. She can morph like a chameleon and adjust when needed, but at the end of the day, she wants stability. She doesn’t want to be in fight-or-flight mode. I’m not sure what you did to get in the doghouse, but my advice to you is to be the person she can count on. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s never had a man like that in her life. Just my two cents.”

“Thank you for your two cents. I’ll take it.”

She smiles at me. “It’s wonderful what you’re doing. You’re going to bring a lot of joy to many people who don’t always have a lot in their lives. I have to run, but I’ll see you this evening?”

I nod. “That’s the plan.”

Dawn leaves, and I jump in a cab to get to the tux store so I can find the right one for the event. The entire way, I’m thinking about what Dawn told me.

Their roof caved in, and they lost everything.

She was homeless.

She slept in a slide.

Her dad stayed up all night, keeping watch over her and her mom.

She saved her money to buy her parents a house.

My gut is churning, and I feel sick thinking about Vivian as a little girl, sleeping outside in a slide. I didn’t grow up rich, but we always had a roof over our heads. I can’t imagine how scared she must have felt.

Vivian and her family defied statistics. She should still be poor and struggling, but she was self-made and successful.

And all I offered her were scraps.

Our conversation in the car, where she told me I only offered scraps, making people fight for them then keeping them desperate, hits me in an entirely new way, and I loathe myself more than ever before.

How many times did she see people fighting on the street for scraps?

How much desperation did she see and feel?

And I made her feel that way again.

I bang my head against the back of the headrest as the cab pulls up to the tux shop.

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