Page 31 of Angels Are Falling

Dior.

I covered all the French designers. They were the best in the business for brand-name items, and my woman would have nothing but the finest things.

I grew up watching my father let my mother down. They were young when they became pregnant with me and, as a result, dropped out of college. The best they could do without degrees was blue-collar jobs and living paycheck to paycheck. My friends’ moms were whisked away to Paris on anniversaries, but the farthest my mother traveled was the East Coast. Other women were spoiled on Valentine’s Day, while Mom was placated with handmade gifts. She never owned anything fancy or had extraordinary experiences.

I’d never forget the day Mom was mesmerized by a designer purse at Nordstrom. We had planned on window-shopping, but Dad saw the look on her face and couldn’t disappoint her yet again, especially when the dismissive sales associate suggested we couldn’t afford the purse.

Dad marched to the counter with a credit card in one hand and my mother’s hand in the other. For a whole sixty seconds, they were proud of sticking it to the saleslady, only for the card to be declined. The humiliation in my father’s eyes and the dejection in my mother’s were imprinted in my mind.

That day, I vowed never to live a life of mediocrity.

Yet I often experienced the same shame as my father. Those old memories resurfaced whenever Amelie admired something we couldn’t afford. But Kai had answered all my prayers.

Looking around at our sixteen-thousand-square-feet mansion, it was obvious that our mediocre life was behind us. Large windows overlooked the classic California landscape—a beach and clear blue water. The insides were as serene as the view, with an open floor plan, minimalistic decor, chic furniture, and tasteful art.

Over the summer, Kai bought and designed this house with this unorthodox family in mind. We each decorated our side of the house as we saw fit, since Amelie was reluctant to do so.

The neutral-colored walls complemented the clean living room. It was the only shared space for the whole family to enjoy. Otherwise, the double doors in the far corner separated my set of rooms from Kai’s side of the house. I hadn’t ventured into his territory out of respect for his privacy and had no idea of his aesthetics.

As for my wing, it looked like the birthplace of minimalism. There was no clutter or excess junk. It was clean and modern, a replica of my dream home. He had granted me a lifelong wish—a house with a breathtaking view.

There were times I wanted to punch Kai for even looking at my wife. But I couldn’t hate the man who gave me my dream home and job. This house was featured in Architectural Digest, and my family was living in it. I wouldn’t mess this up with petty jealousy. I needed to compartmentalize and cling to denial rather than imagine Kai and Amelie together. As far as I was concerned, they had a platonic relationship.

I paced the living room of our new palatial home, determined to welcome Amelie and Kai back with zero bitterness and jealousy. I’d show them just how okay I was with this arrangement. The doors swung open right as the clock struck eight. Amelie walked inside with Kai, who rolled in both their suitcases.

They were in airline attire, and for the first time, Kai was dressed down in joggers and a white T-shirt. His usual godlike persona was missing; he almost looked like a mere mortal.

Amelie wore a gray tank top tucked into a tennis skirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her skin tanner than usual from the Caribbean sun. No makeup; she didn’t need it. She was stunning even after a long flight.

I missed her like crazy, but I didn’t rush up to pull her into my arms. There were unwritten rules now. I couldn’t flaunt our relationship in front of Kai and hoped he would maintain the same discretion.

Please, don’t make me witness your relationship. I can’t bear it.

It turned out my worries were for nothing. They weren’t holding hands, and Amelie wasn’t remotely in love with Kai. She walked five paces ahead and seemed seconds from hitting him over the head with something heavy. He had pissed her off, and they had been married for two minutes.

Relief washed over me, and I let go of the breath I’d been holding since Tanzania. Everything would be all right. I hadn’t lost her, our relationship had simply evolved.

“Hi, baby!” I said as she drew closer.

Her eyes landed on me. There was a spark of love in them, love for me, not him.

Why was I so anxious? Amelie would never love Kai. Her heart was already full, just like mine, and there was no space for anyone else.

“Hi,” she mouthed, watching Kai out of the corner of her eye. We exchanged an awkward kiss when he turned his back to us to station their luggage. The relief from our brief intimacy clashed with the immediate tension of his being nearby. We were unsure how to act in his presence.

“Hey, man,” I said louder for his benefit. “Welcome home.”

Kai straightened. He turned slowly and nodded, giving nothing away with his expression.

Was this whole thing just as awkward for him? Was he regretting this arrangement? Or was he merely tired from the flight? It was impossible to tell with Kai, he was the farthest from expressive.

“Where are the kids?” His voice was detached, without deeper meaning or any passive-aggressive territorial behavior.

“Asleep.”

Amelie seemed bummed out. “Oh. I was hoping to tuck them in.”

I smiled at her. “They were exhausted after opening all their welcome-home gifts. I bought you some stuff, too.” I was beyond excited to spoil my wife with things I had never dreamt of buying her.