Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nate
“This isn’t the quality it should be, Dylan,” I bark, analyzing the footage he brought me. I made him re-edit it twice, but it’s still not where it should be. “The last twenty seconds need more work. I want the new version in fifteen minutes.”
He walks out of my office muttering expletives but I don’t give a damn. I’ve been at the studio by myself the entire weekend working. Dylan should be grateful I didn’t call him in too. The least he can do is hand me a goddamn decent edit.
I need another coffee, or ten. I haven’t slept more than a handful of hours since Friday. I went through the motions after Alice left the party, but I couldn’t bolt since I was a guest of honor. Then I went home and spent hours staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything. I need to talk to her, damn it, but I need to wrap my head around what happened first. On Saturday morning, I came to the studio, doing the one thing I knew would take my mind off Alice—work. I repeated the whole cycle on Sunday, but I just can’t sleep. The damn bed smells like her. It feels like her.
When the team showed up today at work at eight, I’d already been here since five.
“Mondays are usually shitty, but today takes the cake.” Clara steps inside, hands on her hips. “What’s with the barking? Half the staff looks like they’re gonna cry, the other half like they’re about to murder you. Should I have napkins on hand? Or a gun?”
“Jesus, Clara. Slow down.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, surveying me. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Just coffee.”
“Let’s get out of here and get some food into you. And more coffee.”
“I don’t—”
“Do it for the team. They need a break from you.”
“Shit. Am I that bad?”
“Yes, you are. And I never lie to you.”
True. I’ve been taking out my anger on all of them, and they don’t deserve it.
“Fine, let’s go.”
I swear the room sighs in unison as Clara and I cross the studio, heading toward the exit.
“Hot dogs?” she asks. “A bit hardcore in the morning.”
“I don’t care.”
“Hot dogs it is.”
We walk side by side down the stairs and out of the building, crossing the street to our usual hot dog stand. After buying two, we head to the small park behind the truck, walking around aimlessly.
“Want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“You were at the gala. You know what’s wrong.”
“Well, I saw Alice leave, looking upset. You’ll have to fill in the blanks.”
The last thing I want is to talk about it, but Clara watches me like a hawk. She won’t let it go, so in as few words as possible, I tell her what happened with Alice. The words come out fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid, but under it, the wound is still raw, blood gurgling out.
“Did you talk to her since?” Clara asks, her voice softer now.
“No.”
Clara cocks a brow. “Why not?”
“What part of ‘don’t call me’ wasn’t clear to you? Was clear as day to me.” I opened myself up to Alice in a way I haven’t done with anyone before, and clearly it was a mistake. Even so, I can’t deny I want to talk to her. We have a great thing, and I don’t want to give up on us.
“This might come as a surprise to you, but people sometimes don’t say out loud the things they really want to say.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I bet what Alice really meant was ‘please call me as soon as possible, declare your undying love and grow old next to me.’”
A young woman pushing a stroller passes us, throwing us a startled look. Yeah, I’m about as confused as she is.
I stare at Clara, my head spinning. “Are you pulling my leg right now?”
She shakes her head, muttering under her breath something that sounds a lot like “Men are so clueless.”
“I’m being serious.”
“What part of the things she told me led you to that conclusion?”
“Look, you and Alice have known each other for years.”
“How is this relevant?”
“Because during that time she saw you chase around the world for opportunities. She knew how much you wanted this.”
“Still not following.”
We come to a halt in front of a small clearing where a group is practicing yoga, or whatever requires them to put their legs around their necks.
“She knew this was your dream, and she thought you’d choose the job over her. Maybe she was just afraid of getting hurt.”
“But I told her I hadn’t accepted the job yet.”
Clara smiles tightly. “She probably thought you’d eventually resent her if you gave up on your dream for her.”
“How do women manage to have entire conversations in their head in the time it takes me to decide if I’ll drink a whiskey or a gin tonic?”
“We’re fast thinkers. Get with the program, Nate. Anyway, saying ‘yet’ is not exactly reassuring. I’ve known you for three years, but even I’d bet that ‘yet’ changes into ‘I’m moving tomorrow.’ Maybe she just wanted a graceful, dignified exit.”
“What if she just wanted an exit?” I push. “She didn’t even consider a solution, like long-distance or moving with me.”
“That just tells me she has great self-preservation skills. Get out before there’s a chance of being turned down or pushed away.”
“Women are complicated creatures,” I say in frustration.
Clara flashes me a grin. “I’ll simplify it for you. What do you want?”
“I want Alice in my life. I don’t care how. And yes, as improbable as it might seem to you, I actually did think about turning down the job.”
Clara opens her mouth, then closes it again. This might be the first time she doesn’t have any comeback.
“I mean, I get paid a truckload of money for what I do now here. What’s the point of always chasing the next thing? The people I care about are here—”
“Who are you, and what have you done with Nate Becker? Alice has been an excellent influence on you. Talk to her.”
“What if you’re wrong,” I insist, “and she just doesn’t want any of this?”
“You’ll have to man up and accept it.” Pressing her palms together and lacing her fingers, she adds, “Go out on a limb and take a chance, Nate. Call her. Where’s your phone?”
“At the office. Turned it off on Saturday. Horowitz was starting to annoy me with his calls.”
“Ah yes, he’s pretty desperate for you to take the job.”
I feel more alert than I have in hours. “I have no plan.”
Looking behind me, Clara presses her lips together. “Then think fast, or improvise. As your assistant, it’s my duty to tell you that improvisation isn’t your strongest skill unless you’re trying to entertain a crowd, so think fast.”
“Why?”
“Two of the Bennett brothers are hurrying toward us. They look pissed.”
“Took them no time at all.”
“Don’t worry, they have no guns. Just very pointy pitchforks.”
Glancing behind me, I see no sign of any Bennett brothers.
“I was just messing with you,” Clara says when I turn to her again. “You work best under pressure. Figured you’d come up with a plan in no time then.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
She shrugs. “Was worth a shot. Though I am surprised that none of the Bennett brothers are here kicking your ass.”
“I’m completely innocent here.”
“You don’t understand how the brother rule works. Sister meets man. Sister is brokenhearted. The conclusion is man must be beaten to a pulp.”
“I did always love your knack for simplifying things. My bet is Alice didn’t tell them. She’s one who prefers to fight her own battles. Or in this case… bolt.”
“Do you love her?”
“Damn right, I do.”
“Then you’ll figure it out. Now, not to toot my own horn, but my improvisation skills are great. If you were, say, to need to take the rest of your day off, I could step in and convince everyone you had a legitimate reason for leaving. You could stay and wrap the day, of course, but I’d hate to see you bite someone’s head off. I have a hunch that aggressive streak rearing its ugly head today won’t subside until you talk to Alice. Take the day off. It’s for the good of the team.”
“You know what your special skill is? Talking so much that you confuse anyone to the point they agree with you just so you stop. But I do want to take the day off. Are you sure you can handle things here?”
“I owe you for many things. Go! I’ll take care of everything here.”