“Paying for it is my responsibility. I took a vow, and I take it seriously.”
“I know you do, but I’d like to help. I’d like to pay.”
“No, thank you.”
He sighed. “Tell me what I can do.”
I inhaled and drew on all my strength, wavering though it was. But I had it in me. I had stores of it, thanks to my mom and the way I was raised. I’d been a strong girl growing up. I would be a strong woman. “I want us to tell him together. He’ll do better if he knows we both want him to get well. That it’s not just for me, but for you too.”
“Strength in numbers. Of course.”
“He loves me like crazy. But you, Leo? You’re like his brother. He looks up to you. He needs to know it’s hurting both of us. Most of all, though, he needs to know it’s hurting him.”
And so we planned. I talked to the rehab programs. I soaked up all the advice I could. I knew the risks. I knew the numbers and the high likelihood of a relapse.
But it needed to be done.
A few days later, I told Tripp I was sending him to a twenty-eight-day program. Leo stood by my side in the apartment I shared with the man I’d promised to cherish.
And dammit, I would. Helping him was cherishing him.
I sat Tripp down on the sofa. “I booked you into the program. You’re leaving tomorrow.”
He sputtered. “But what about the restaurant?”
Leo stepped in, brooking no argument. “I have it covered. I asked a sous-chef I know to fill in for you.”
“But can he make all the dishes the same way? Can he handle the waiters? Can he handle—?”
“Yes.”
That was all Leo said to the questions. Yes. He made it clear Tripp had no wiggle room on the work issue.
Tripp sighed heavily, sadness creeping over his face, but a newfound humility too. “Shit, man, you did that for me?”
“I’d do just about anything for you. And your wife would too. You need to know that.”
Tripp’s eyes welled with tears and gratitude. “Lulu, is this what you want?”
I got down on my knees, took his hands in mine. “Tripp, I want the man I married. I want you back. But I need you to do it for you.”
“I will. I’ll do it for me. I want to change. For you, and for me.”
The next day Leo and I drove him to upstate New York. After Tripp checked in, he saluted me, his head held high. “I’m doing this. Thanks to you guys.” He waved at us like a sailor boarding a ship bound to battle the enemy. No—to positively vanquish the enemy. “When you see me again, I’ll be the king of seltzer water. We’ll celebrate the new me with apple juice.”
A sunflower bloomed inside me. A whole field. “Ginger ale and Diet Coke are the bomb.”
“I can’t wait to fill our fridge with 7 Up.” He stopped in his tracks, pressing his fingers to his forehead. “I have an idea. I’m going to become a tea master. That’s it! I’m going to be the reigning king of Earl Grey, jasmine green, and English breakfast.”
“Don’t forget oolong,” I called out.
He ran back to me, cupped my cheeks. “Why can’t we all just get oolong?”
I laughed so damn hard I nearly peed. This was the man I’d married. He’d be back. Just wait and see.
Two weeks later, he was kicked out of rehab for drinking. I didn’t know how he got that bottle of Cuervo, but where there was a will, there was a way.
Three months later, I served him with divorce papers.
17LEO
Present Day
In the middle of traffic-clogged, people-drenched Midtown Manhattan is a two-by-two-block park. You’d be hard-pressed to believe anything abutting Forty-Second Street could be peaceful, but Bryant Park is a hamlet in the middle of the metropolis, and on Wednesday morning, it’s the epicenter of the hunt.
I emerge from the subway, aviator shades on, getting the lay of the land. As I walk toward the park, familiar faces come into view—some competitors, some business partners. Teams are ready, sporting their corporate gear in some cases, and in others they’re wearing their casual best.
Draped in Jackie O sunglasses and nursing a coffee drink that’s as tall as a baseball bat is Kingsley, her sister Scarlett by her side. The two women are laughing, a sign that this event has sprung from good-natured sibling rivalry.
But both are serious as sharks. You don’t make it to the top of a major corporation without a little great white in you. Winning will make Kingsley happy. I like it when she’s happy.
As I enter the park, a woman jogs toward me, her hair color so bright I have to squint, making it impossible to pretend I don’t see her.
“Hey, RaeLynn.” We met at an industry event a few years ago. She works at a candy company, and last year we were both vying for a partnership with a gourmet pretzel-maker.
