"Okay, so new house rule," Eric said the next morning as he finished making his coffee.
He walked over to where I was on the couch, enjoying my own cup of tea and leafing through our assignment study materials for the weekend. I pushed my glasses up my nose. I was dressed in my typical Saturday morning attire: yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. Outside it was a fine late-spring day, and I was already a bit grumpy that I had to stay in and study.
"Fine. What's the new rule?"
Eric flopped onto the couch next to me and kicked his socked feet onto the small wooden coffee table. "No bosses in the apartment."
I huffed and dropped my pencil into my open book. "Yeah. I'm sorry about the surprise. But honestly, we don't have anywhere else to go."
"What are you talking about, Cros? I've been to that museum he calls a house. You telling me all ten thousand square feet are taken?"
"No, no," I said. "It's because his divorce is in the final stages of mediation, and apparently his ex is having him tracked by a P.I. We can't be seen together, and his house is probably being watched round the clock."
"So what, now you're fifteen years old, running around behind your parents' backs?" Eric said with a smirk. "Do we need to take shifts with a sock on the door? Your boyfriend owns the Earth, Cros. Tell him to book a damn hotel."
I cringed. "Ew. Because that wouldn't make me feel more like a creepy mistress. It's bad enough he's still technically married." I turned to Eric with my best pleading face. "Come on. We can't go to his place for another three weeks. Then the papers are signed, and that's the end."
Eric slurped on his coffee. "It's a good line, I'll give him that. I should use it the next time a girl wants to come home with me. 'Sorry, babe, but my ex has my place watched by a private eye.'"
I slugged him halfheartedly on the shoulder. "Stop. It's true."
Eric raised a light blond brow and scratched his chin. "You sure about that? Some guys will say a lot of things to keep women away from their places. I should know."
I knew his heart was in the right place. A New Yorker like me, Eric was a cynic, convinced that everyone was a con artist. And it was true that Brandon wasn't always the most forthcoming of people. Some of his secrets had nearly destroyed us, and we weren't exactly out of the woods yet. But then I thought about how warmly he had invited me into his home before, even asked me to move in with him. No, it wasn't in him to make up tales just to keep me at arm's length; if anything, he had a tendency to go overboard bringing me close.
"It's the truth," I said confidently. "I'm sure of it."
Eric sighed, but nodded sympathetically. "Okay. But can you at least send me a text first when he's here? And maybe keep it to your bedroom? I don't really want to walk in on the two of you macking on the couch again, and I'd prefer if he didn't see me when I still smell like lubricant and my date's perfume."
"Ewwwww!" I cried as I whacked him with a throw pillow. "Too much information!"
Eric laughed, but tucked the pillow safely behind him. "I just need him to like me. Got it?"
I squeezed his shoulder. "I'll talk you up, don't worry. I'll be your biggest fan."
"I knew you were going to say that," Eric said, but his face quickly screwed up in horror. "Not too much, Crosby. The last thing I need is my boss thinking his girlfriend has a thing for his new associate."
Eric's eyes grew wide as he obviously imagined a jealous Brandon. I couldn't help but giggle, which earned me a brown-eyed glare.
"Sorry," I said. "I'll keep it tame."
Eric shook his head. "So what's up with the reunion anyway? I thought the two of you had broken up."
Before I could answer, there was a curt knock at the door. I looked to Eric, who just frowned, confused.
I stood. "I guess I'll get that."
I opened the door to the last person I expected to be standing on my door stoop. Jane, my best friend and former roommate, tapped a combat-booted toe impatiently on our mat, multi-ringed fingers clenched and raised to knock again. She was dressed in a typical Jane outfit: ripped, black skinny jeans, an old CBGB T-shirt, masses of leather bracelets around both wrists, and her signature cat-eyed glasses. The only discernible difference was that her short black bob was no longer spiky and asymmetrical, but had been cut to one uniform length––more office appropriate, I guessed.
"Aaah!" I screamed.
Jane immediately grinned and screamed back, causing Eric to plug his ears while my best friend and I attacked each other with hugs.
"You're here!" I cried.
"I'm here!" Jane echoed, and we hopped around in a circle while hugging tightly.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded as I let her go.
Jane reached behind her and wheeled a small suitcase into the apartment, kicking our door shut.
"Clearly I am here to help you sort out the mess of your life. By the way, the lock on your building entrance is broken." She glanced at Eric, who still sat on the couch, staring at her with hilarious bewilderment. "What's up, man-whore?"
Eric immediately recovered his blasé expression. "Hey. Good to see you too, Jane."
He picked up one of the study packets on the coffee table and continued to sip his drink as if Jane's sudden appearance was completely run-of-the-mill. Jane just rolled her eyes and mimed a hand-job.
"Whatever," she said. "You have me until tomorrow night. I figure we can spend the morning studying, and then take a break this afternoon, do a bit more, and then go out tonight." She looked behind her at the packets Eric was using. "Good, you guys are going through BarPrep too. We can work together, since the first unit is all federal statutes. That is, if Captain Underpants over there can tear himself away from his weekly un-dresser."
"You hard up, Jane?" Eric asked without even looking up from his work. "Because I could probably help you out if you're interested."
"Like an iceberg. I'll pass on the VD, thanks."
I bounced between them like I was watching a tennis match, but before I could say anything to break it up, Jane linked arms with me.
"Come on, show me your room, chick," she said. "We'll leave the human hormone to his masturbation studies until we're done gossiping."
~
"So your dad really doesn't believe you about that Katie bitch?"
After three hours of studying, Jane and I had decided to walk down to Haymarket to enjoy the sunny spring day and peruse the stalls of produce. It was the kind of day that made me love living in Boston. Just enough warmth bounced off the cobblestoned streets, and I could smell the briny water sloshing around the piers on the other side of Government Center and Faneuil Hall. I could walk around in nothing but my favorite jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a pair of sandals, my hair thrown into a casual braid down my back.
I shrugged as I looked over a display of peppers, drifting my fingers over their red and yellow skins. I had finished recounting to my friend the events of the past twenty-four hours, including Brandon's and my reconciliation, as well as the awkward conversation I'd had with my dad earlier that morning. My epiphany about Katie Corleone hadn't been taken well. It probably hadn't helped that I could hear her squealing in his ear while I talked.
"Yeah, it's...kind of nuts. I mean, I know it's just a suspicion on my part, but I don't like it. Not to mention that he really shouldn't be getting into a relationship when he's in the middle of recovery. You should have heard him, Jane. He got so mad when I suggested even the possibility that she was in cahoots with Messina."
Jane gave a low whistle and shook her head. "It's probably hard for him. Single guy, gimpy hand, lives with his mother. He probably got a bit of tail when he was playing piano, but now... She's probably got his dick so locked down right now you'd need a nitroglycerin to break that safe." She nudged my shoulder when she caught my obvious disgust. "Oh, stop with the sourpuss, Skylar! He's a musician in New York. What did you think was happening?"
I continued to scowl, but as much as I hated to admit it, Jane was probably right. I examined an eggplant, turning it back and forth.
"Come on. What are you going to do with that? Microwave it?" Jane pulled the eggplant out of my hand and set it back with the others.
I turned to her, annoyed. "I might cook it," I said, picking it back up. "You don't know."
"I know that Richie Rich's favorite food is eggplant parmesan." Jane batted her eyelashes knowingly. "And I also know that in three years, you never once used our stove for purposes other than boiling water."
I rolled my eyes, but put the eggplant back in the bin. I had forgotten just how annoying it could be living with someone who knew all of my secrets.
"Eric doesn't make fun of me for my lack of kitchen expertise."
"Yet, my love. Yet being the key word there."
We continued to stroll through the marketplace, looking at the bright rows of vegetables and the other stalls hawking various crafts and wares. My gaze landed on a couple: a tall blond man with a woman about my height. The man had a baby strapped to his chest. He leaned down to kiss the woman, and my heart squeezed, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar.
"So, last night. You didn't tell Brandon? About...you know?"
"I know I should," I said quietly as we continued to walk.
"It's your choice, Sky," Jane said. "I'm not judging. Really."
I sighed and continued to weave through the crowd listlessly, no longer interested in taking in the sights. Jane followed, and eventually we were making our way through the downtown area and into the Commons, with the Public Garden just up ahead. She said nothing while we waited with other pedestrians to cross into the park, just walked next to me, sipping the iced coffee she'd picked up at the market, until we wandered around the duck pond and ended up taking a bench not far from the bronze "Make Way for Ducklings" statues.
I stared at the baby ducks and glanced around the park. There seemed to be kids everywhere today.
"Look," Jane said, breaking the silence. "I'm not saying it was the wrong choice. No one is saying that. I'm just saying, if what you said is true...if you guys are trying to start again with a fresh slate, then honesty is going to be key. You're so mad at him for holding all that stuff back, Sky. How do you think he'll feel if he finds out you hid this from him?"
"Yeah, but it's not really his business, is it?" I said, although the pit in my stomach was telling me otherwise. "It's my body, not his."
"Yeah, but it would have been his kid."
Jane shrugged and spread her long, thin arms out on the bench back behind us. She wore a massive pair of purple sunglasses, and leaned back to face the sunshine. "Real talk. If this were just some dude you were messing around with, or even worse, a piece of shit like Patrick, I'd say 'fuck, no' and 'good riddance.' It wouldn't matter because he wouldn't matter. But this is Brandon we're talking about." She turned to me. "He matters, right?"
I nodded, looking at the ducks on the water, some of them trailed by clusters of ducklings. "Of course he matters. He matters more than anyone."
"Well, then, you have to tell him," Jane said simply as she leaned back again.
I slouched in my seat and covered my face with my hands, then pushed them back into my hair. My braid was falling out, and I wound the loose hair around my fist and tugged meditatively.
"He might not forgive me for it," I said. It was the first time I had said it out loud, and even just the words made me feel like my body was iced over. It was petrifying.
"I've seen the way that man looks at you, Sky. He would forgive you for state treason."
"He'll think I did it to hurt him," I said, sitting up again.
"That's ridiculous. You weren't even talking to him at the time. How would something he wasn't going to know hurt him?"
I toed a loose rock on the ground. "You don't get it. Brandon...he wants kids. Like, a lot. Enough to stay married to someone like Miranda for years hoping they would conceive. It broke his heart that they couldn't have children. And if he knew what I did––"
"Stop." Jane put a gentle hand on my shoulder.
I looked at her with glassy eyes. I wasn't quite as cry-happy as a few weeks ago, but the tears were still always just below the surface, especially when I thought about hurting Brandon.
"You did what was best for you in that moment," she said, pushing up her glasses so I could see her face. I was touched; Jane couldn't see anything without her prescriptions. "If he's the kind of man who expects you to sacrifice your entire life––and let's be real, it would have been your life that was sacrificed, not his. It would have been your body on the line if you'd stayed as sick as you were, your career you would have had to put on hold indefinitely, not to mention the whole process of actually having the baby and healing from that." She shuddered. "Two words, my friend: vaginal tearing. If that doesn't put the fear of God in you, I don't know what will."
Apparently living with her OBGYN cousin had enlightened Jane to some of the more visceral parts of giving birth.
"I would have managed," I said.
"Plus, he wasn't going to stop working at his big job to stay home with a baby, and meanwhile, you would have had to jump out of the race before you even got started?" Jane wrapped her thin arm around my shoulder and squeezed. "You'll get your chance together now. A real one, where you can build the foundation I know you both need so badly. If––" she paused, looking meaningfully at me––"if you can stop being a chicken shit and just be up front with him."
I stared down at my hands, now clasped tightly in my lap. We were so close to his house, just across the park and a block north. I could do it now; walk up, ring his bell, and continue the catharsis we'd started last night. We could start anew, with total honesty.
A flash caught my eye: someone was taking a photo of their kids splashing in the water. I shook my head. No, I definitely couldn't just walk up to the house. Not with someone potentially watching. I couldn't lay this kind of burden on Brandon when he had so many other stresses with Miranda, and I wasn't going to force it on him just to alleviate my own guilt. It was my burden to bear until I knew he could handle it. Until I knew we both could, together.
"I'll tell him," I said finally. "When it's the right time, I will."
Jane pursed her lips. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but then thought better of it. Before she could formulate her reply, my phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out; there was a text from Brandon.
"Mr. Monopoly?" Jane asked, not even looking to see who it was. She flipped her shades back down to look out at the pond again.
I flipped through the text. "He wants to know if I'm free tonight."
Jane jerked her head at me. "Girl, you better not say yes."
I chuckled. "Of course not! My best friend is paying me a visit. I'm not about to bail on that."
I was rewarded by a very cat-who-ate-the-cream smile from Jane.
"As it should be," she said haughtily.
I tapped a quick reply to Brandon, letting him know I was busy. A second later, I received another text.
"He says to tell you he's going to crash the party," I said, somewhat annoyed. Talk about a rock and a hard place.
"Give me that," Jane said, snatching my phone out of my hand. "Someone needs a lesson in the laws of female friendship."
Before I could stop her, she dialed Brandon's number. He, of course, picked up right away. I watched, half-horrified, half-delighted as my best friend eviscerated my boyfriend.
"Hey, Moneybags," she said. "How's it hanging? Hey, a bit of a PSA for you: boyfriends don't get to cut in on girl time, especially not when said girls now live a thousand miles apart. Haven't you heard of 'chicks before dicks?'...Yes, it was last minute...Yes, we are going out tonight. It's Saturday night, and I'm not a shut-in... Yes, I plan to get some act––wait, that is none of your business, Sterling!"
Jane looked to where I was watching, utterly transfixed by her end of the conversation.
"Uh-huh," she continued. "Uh-huh. All right, fine. But if he's a dud, I'm kicking you out. Only one of us gets to sleep in Skylar's bed tonight, and if she has to choose, she's choosing me...Great Scott...Starts at ten...And before you try to butt in there too, no, you can't come for dinner."
With that, she held the phone out to me with a somewhat dazed look on her face.
"I think your boyfriend just cross-examined me into inviting him out with us and Eric tonight," she said. Then an evil smile spread across her face. "Oh please, let me tell Captain Chlamydia that he gets to party with his boss tonight."
I took the phone and put it to my ear with a grin. "Hey. Sorry about that. What are you up to?"
"No apologies needed." Brandon's voice was low and warm over the phone. "You just provided a welcome interruption of a golf game."
"You play golf?" I made a face at Jane, who immediately started fake snoring.
Brandon chuckled. "Only sometimes, I promise. Usually when I have deals with old men to close."
"Is something important happening today?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement," he said good-humoredly. Which meant yes, and also that it was likely related to his upcoming IPO of Sterling Ventures.
"What did you say to Jane?" I asked. "I think you broke her."
On the other end of the line, Brandon laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made me thrill from top to bottom.
"I can be very persuasive when I want to," was all he said.
"So you're going to come to the show with us tonight? Do you have time for that sort of thing?" Brandon was one of the busiest people I knew. His calendar would rival the President's.
"I've barely seen you for two months," Brandon said. "I'll make time. I'll meet you there around ten."
"Sounds good," I said, even though the reminder that we couldn't be seen around together dampened my enthusiasm a bit.
"Bye, beautiful."
I put my phone back in my purse. Jane stood up and stretched her tall frame to the sky, muttering "motherfucker" under her breath with mild bemusement. Then she turned to me.
"He must be an absolute terror in court," she said. "Shall we head back? I'd like to get a bit more studying in before we go out tonight. Secured Transactions is kicking my ass."
Now a bit more energized, I was ready to get my work out of the way so I could enjoy myself. But I still glanced behind me as we left, thinking of the big, gray-stone house that stood beyond the trees, and the man inside who was waiting for me to come back to him completely.
~