Three weeks. Three weeks of carefully orchestrated schedules, color-coded calendar apps, and lies upon lies upon lies. I've become a master juggler, keeping all my deceptions in the air.
Adrian gets Tuesday and Thursday mornings with the twins, Henri gets Thursday afternoons that stretch into evenings, and I get the exhaustion of maintaining this impossible charade.
I'm already waiting on the front steps of my building with the twins, Adrian should be here any minute for his scheduled pickup. Right after that Henri picks me up for a date at our usual café.
My phone buzzes with two texts simultaneously, and my stomach drops.
Adrian: "Running five minutes late. Traffic on the FDR."
Henri: "Leaving the hotel now, ma chérie. Can't wait to see you."
I stare at the messages like they're countdown timers to disaster. That's a collision course right in front of my building.
"No, no, no… This isn't happening."
Maybe Henri will walk past without stopping. Maybe Adrian will be later than five minutes. Maybe I can somehow hide two babies and myself in the sixty seconds I'll have between them.
"Please," I whisper to the universe. "Just this once, let the timing work in my favor."
The universe laughs.
Henri rounds the corner from the north, a bouquet of tulips in his hand, that warm smile already spreading across his face. At the exact same moment, Adrian's black Bentley pulls up to the curb from the south.
My heart doesn't just stop—it explodes in my chest, sending shrapnel through every nerve ending. This is it. This is how it all falls apart.
Henri approaches first, his eyes bright with anticipation. "Elena! And the little ones. How are your sister's twins today?"
But his gaze has already tracked to the Bentley, to Adrian emerging in his perfect Tom Ford suit, looking like he stepped out of a boardroom.
"Who's that?" Henri asks casually, but I catch the edge in his voice, the slight tension in his shoulders.
My mouth opens and words tumble out before my brain can stop them. "My sister's ex-husband."
The lie lands between us with all the grace of a brick through a window.
"He… He sometimes helps out too," I add desperately, watching Henri's brow furrow with confusion.
"But you said her husband left her," Henri says slowly, like he's putting together a puzzle.
"How quickly some people change, don't you think?" I say, my voice climbing an octave. "He felt guilty and came back. To help. Occasionally. It's complicated."
It sounds ridiculous even to my ears, the kind of lie a child would tell when caught with chocolate on their face. But I'm already moving toward Adrian, practically shoving our daughter into his arms before Henri can ask more questions.
Adrian takes in the scene with those calculating eyes—Henri standing there looking increasingly confused, me flustered and obviously lying, the twins between us like evidence of my deception.
His lips curve into that cold smile I know too well, the one that means he's about to be cruel.
"Your beau?" he asks with deliberate volume, nodding toward Henri.
"None of your business," I hiss, shoving our son at him too. "Just take them and go."
Adrian secures our daughter in her car seat with practiced ease, but he's taking his time, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
"It's amazing how quickly you found a new father for our children," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, loud enough for Henri to hear. "Very modern of you."
"Stop it," I whisper frantically. "They're my sister's children, remember? You're my sister's ex-husband."
Adrian pauses in buckling our son, raising an eyebrow at me. "Your sister's children?" His voice is pure amusement now. "Your sister's ex-husband? My, what a complicated family tree you've created."
"Adrian, please…"
"Do you want to introduce me to your friend?" he asks, tilting his head toward Henri. "I'm sure he'd love to meet your sister's ex-husband who helps with your sister's twins."
"Stop it," I beg, my voice barely audible. "Please, just go."
"How exhausting that must be," Adrian says, closing the car door with a decisive click. "Keeping all those stories straight. Making sure everyone believes the right lie at the right time."
He walks around to the driver's side, but before getting in, he calls out cheerfully, "Same time Thursday? For your sister's twins, of course."
The Bentley pulls away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with Henri, who's looking at me like he's seeing me for the first time.
"That was strange," Henri says carefully. "The way he said 'our children.'"
"He misspoke," I say quickly. "He meant 'her children.' My sister's children. He gets confused sometimes. Not the brightest."
"The man driving a Bentley and wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit isn't the brightest?" Henri's voice is skeptical now, all warmth evaporating.
"Money doesn't equal intelligence," I say weakly.
"Elena." The way he says my name makes me want to cry. "What's really going on here?"
"Nothing! It's exactly what I told you. My sister's ex-husband. He helps sometimes. They're trying to work things out for the twins' sake." The lies pile on top of each other like a house of cards in a windstorm.
Henri studies me for a long moment, those gray-green eyes searching mine. I can see the doubt there, the questions forming behind his careful expression. But then something shifts—a decision made.
"You're trembling," he says, his voice softer now. He steps closer, taking my hand in his.
"It's just… Dealing with him is always stressful," I manage, grasping at this lifeline. "My sister's situation is so complicated, and he makes everything harder."
Henri's thumb strokes across my knuckles, but his eyes remain watchful. "You’re a treasure. I hope your sister remembers that."
"Family is family," I say, the one true thing in this web of lies.
"Indeed," Henri says, and there's something in his tone I can't quite read. "Shall we still have our afternoon? You look like you could use some time away from all this... family drama."
"Yes," I say too quickly. "Please. I need…" I stop myself before saying 'you.' "I need some normalcy."
Henri offers me his arm, always a gentleman, but I notice how his eyes drift back to where Adrian's car disappeared.
"The tulips," he says suddenly, handing me the bouquet he's been holding. "I almost forgot."
"They're beautiful," I say, breathing in their scent, trying to ground myself.
We walk toward the café, Henri's hand on my lower back, but the ease between us has shifted. He's still charming, still attentive, but there's a
My phone buzzes.
Adrian: "Your boyfriend seemed nice. Does he know you're still legally married?"
I delete the message without responding, but my hands are shaking again. Henri notices, of course he notices. He just takes my phone and slips it into my purse.
"No distractions," he says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "This afternoon is ours."