She laughs. “I need more friends like that.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
I make my way over to the bar to place my empty wineglass on top of it. I wonder if it would be weird for me to just go home now. Alone. It feels like I’ve been here for a month already.
“You ready for another drink?”
I feel Matt’s body right behind me, barely touching me but there. So very, very there.
I look up at the illuminated mirror opposite me, behind the bar. Matt’s looking at my reflection too. He just stands there, waiting for me to turn to face him and ask the question that I’m dying to ask.
I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
Oh, who am I kidding.
Why not get it over with?
I turn to face him, resting my elbows against the bar. “So, I see you met Anita.”
“She had a lot of great things to say about you.”
“Oh yeah? Is that why she gave you her card? So you can call her to discuss me further sometime at your convenience?”
“No, she seemed pretty clear about wanting to meet me for a drink.”
“Seriously? She offered to take you out for a drink? Women just do that?”
“Not all of them.”
“Wow. Must be nice to be you, huh?”
“Not right at this very moment, no.”
“Why not?” I punch his bicep. “You got a hot lady’s number! Anita’s great. You’ll love her! Her skin is tight, she has bionic hormones, and I hear she just wants to hump everything. So have fun with that.”
“If you don’t want me to call her, just say so.”
“Hey, man—I am easy like Sunday morning over here. You know the deal. It’s none of my business who you call or don’t call. Just let me know if it’s time for us to put a pin in this thing we’ve been doing.” Yup. Super chill.
“Bernadette. Tell me if you want me to call her or not.”
“Not.” I can’t stop myself from reaching for his hand and squeezing it, just for a second. He squeezes back.
“Okay. I won’t. I’ll give her card to Rufus. He seemed pretty into her.”
“Okay. But I mean—did you actually want to call her?”
“Not really.”
I try not to smile when I shake my head. “That’s too bad, because she’s a really cool lady.”
“Yeah, it’s too bad. Been a while since I met one of those. I’m gonna go use the men’s room. You continue being easy like Sunday morning over here until I get back.”
“Cool. Awesome. Use that men’s room. God speed.” I reach for my empty wineglass and toast him with it.
“Right.”
I try to empty a few last drops into my very dry mouth.
“You having a good night?”
I slam the glass back down on the bar. Sebastian is standing so much closer to me than he ever has before. Even when we rode the subway together once at rush hour, he’s always maintained a reasonable distance. I can actually smell the vodka on his breath.
“Hi. Are you? I mean, sure, yes. People seem to be having fun, right? Is everything good? Is there anyone you need me to call?”
“All is well, Bernadette.”
“Okay. Good.”
“You look very nice tonight.”
“Oh.” I straighten myself up. “Thank you. So do you.”
He laughs to himself. “Is Matt your boyfriend?”
“Who—that Matt? Matt McGovern? No, that’s just Matt.” Saying the words “just Matt” makes me hate myself a little. Oh, it’s just an original Picasso from his Blue Period. Oh that? That’s just a first-edition copy of The Catcher in the Rye signed by the author. Why do I feel the need to shield Sebastian from the truth? Or is it myself that I’m lying to? “My neighbor. He’s my temporary neighbor.”
“Yes, Matt the neighbor.”
“He invited himself tonight—I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course I don’t mind. I’m grateful to him for looking out for you when you were sick.”
“Oh, right. That was…yeah. He’s a good friend.”
Sebastian puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes meaningfully. I’m not exactly sure what he means, but it’s definitely a meaningful squeeze. He shakes his head.
“Sometimes I wish there was more I could do for you…”
His hand still on my shoulder, his thumb strokes me there in tiny upward movements.
What. Is. Happening?
I’m staring up at him like an idiot. “What do you mean?”
He sighs. “Bernadette. Do you really not know what I mean? Do you really not know what you mean to me?”
My eyes lower for a second, and it’s enough to make him hesitate and take his hand away.
“Forgive me. It’s that dress. It’s the hair. It’s this warm June night. It’s the vodka. It’s the neighbor.”
Bingo. It’s the neighbor.
I look around and freeze when I see Matt the neighbor watching us from across the room by the door. He doesn’t look sad, or mad, or confused. He just looks like he’s leaving. He gives me a little nod, a little salute, before walking out.
“I don’t know why,” Sebastian continues, totally unaware that all my focus has shifted to the front door and the sudden chill in the air now that Matt has actually left without me. “I really don’t know why, but this year has been weighing on me. The divorce, sure, but the work just seems so labored lately, and New York feels so…”
I snap my attention back to him. “Your work is as wonderful as it always is, Sebastian. Maybe you need a vacation.”
“Yes,” he says. “Exactly. You get me. I need to get away.”
“Sebastian, my good man,” says Anita from behind me. “If you need to get away, you should go to the luxury hot spring spa I went to in Japan. It’s in a darling village in the Ishikawa Prefecture. I swear, it’s so beautiful you’d just shit yourself.”
Sebastian laughs and slaps his forehead.
Anita widens her eyes at me, like: Girl, this is your chance to escape, why are you still here?
I do like this woman. Even though she wants to hump my neighbor.
I sneak away to send Matt a text: You left? Are you going home?
A few seconds later, he sends back an emoji of a high heel shoe.
I have no idea what that means. Other than the fact that he said he never uses emojis and he just used one. I keep staring at the door, as if he’s going to walk back through it, but he doesn’t.
“I saw him leave,” Tommy says as he wraps his arm around my waist. “Did you blow it?”
I shrug my shoulders. I wish I could run after him. I wish I could call him and tell him…what? Tell him that I wish he hadn’t left? That I’d like to swing by his apartment and bang him when I get back if he’s up for that? That I might not be as easy like Sunday morning as I thought?
“Come sit with me for a second before I go.” Tommy ushers me over to a booth and huddles with me.
“You’re leaving?” I ask. “We haven’t hung out yet.”
“That’s what we’re doing right now, kid. This is it.”
“Did you meet any nice hot gay guys?”
He adjusts his collar. “You know I don’t like ’em nice.”
I nod. “I miss you.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “Sorry I suck at having a social life.”
“I miss you too. I’m sorry you suck at pretending you’re not in love with your neighbor.”
I try to scoff at that, but it comes out like a sad squeak.
In a rare moment of seriousness, my best friend leans his head against mine and places both hands on top of my hands. He speaks just loud enough so that I can hear him.
“I just happened to see Matt’s face when he came out of the men’s room and saw the S-word fondling you.”
“He wasn’t fondling me!” I hiss.
“He may as well have been. Sexy Face Magee wants to be your guy. I saw it in his eyes. The fact that he left tells me that he
still thinks you’re obsessed with your boss and he’s giving you space.”
“Shit.”
“You’re always wanting your space.”
I nod.
“I’ve been thinking… Maybe it’s not your boss that you were so enamored with. Maybe it’s being a work-wife. You know, all that relationship-y stuff you do for him, that feels safe to you because it’s just work. Because it’s not a real relationship. But maybe what you actually want, or I don’t know—dare I say need—is to actually be in a real relationship. Not like the one your parents have but the kind you want. With a guy who wants you. Not because he wants you to be a buffer between him and the world but because he likes the world better with you in it.”
I turn my head to check to see if Tommy is trying not to laugh. He is. He’s such a shit. He bursts out laughing and holds up his hands when I start pummeling him. “Okay, but I actually meant what I said, I swear!”
“Get out of here. Go to your ten other parties and say hi to all the cool people for me.” I kiss him on the cheek. He does get me, even if he is a turd. “Be safe.”
“Be bold and live with love,” he says as he scoots out of the booth. “And bang your hot neighbor, hard and often, until you’re no longer afraid to be his girlfriend.” He pounds his chest twice, flashes me a peace sign, and then he’s out the door.
Those just might be words to live by. If I can just make it through the rest of the night.
17
Matt
I guess I’m Emoji Guy now.
I didn’t want to say what I have to say to Bernadette in a text, and I didn’t want to not respond. So I literally just played emoji roulette, and when I saw that I’d sent her a fucking red high heeled shoe I thought, Well, at least it wasn’t anything cute.
And then I spent half an hour mentally kicking myself because I’m a fucking stud and I just sent the woman I’ve been having sex with an emoji of a shoe.
The next half hour was spent walking Daisy and explaining to her that we’d probably have to go back to living in a hotel for a while.
And now that I’ve opened up my laptop to check out some housing options, I get a text from Bernadette: Are you home? Are you up? Can I come over?
I think about it for a few seconds before replying with a zombi emoji.
Because she’s created a monster.
She responds with a hot dog emoji.
I guess this is fun.
I can see through the crack under the front door that she’s lurking outside and doesn’t want to knock.
I’ve completely unbuttoned my shirt, and I’m not doing it up again. If she wants to talk to me, she’s going to have to deal with my thoughts and my feelings and my abs. All of them.
I open the door and rest one hand against the frame, one on the doorknob. Thankful that she’s still wearing that dress but probably not revealing it in my expression. “Good evening.”
She stares directly at my pecs, blinks twice, and then says, “Hello.” She clears her throat. “Do you have time to talk?”
I allow her to step inside but stay near the door instead of leading her to the living room. “What’s up?” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
“I’m sorry if you…if you didn’t have a good time at the party. I wish I could have left with you, but you know. I had to stay a bit longer. Work.”
“I know.”
“Nothing… I mean, in case you were wondering, nothing happened with Sebastian. He was just in a weird mood. He isn’t usually like that with me. At all.”
“A dress like that can do that to a man.”
She frowns at me as she places her fists on her hips. “I think…things have gotten weird between us.”
“I agree. I actually felt jealous when I saw you laughing with that good-looking guy friend of yours tonight. Not a good sign.”
She smirks. “Who—Tommy? He’s gay.”
“Well, I know that now.”
She searches my face for clues as to how I feel, but she’s not going to find anything. People rarely do. But I like to watch her study me. She’s really looking. She sees more than most.
I take a deep breath before saying, “This situation of ours isn’t working anymore.”
She appears to be completely crestfallen. I’m glad.
“Yeah. I don’t think so either.” Her voice trembles. “We should end it now.”
“What I mean is,” I say, as I reach out for her hand, “we should stop pretending this isn’t a real thing between us. I can’t tell you that I’m not going to fall for you anymore, because I have, and you’re falling for me too, and I say we just fucking go for it.”
I pull her in toward me and wrap my arms around her.
She goes limp and buries her face in my chest. “Go for what?” she asks, her voice muffled.
“I’m sick of holding back with you.”
She looks up at me. “You’ve been holding back?”
I cup her sweet, confused face in my hands. “Darlin’, you have no idea.”
“What have you been holding back?”
“Letting you know that I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t want to stop thinking about you. I want to see you every chance I get. I like you, and I don’t want to hide it. You can tell your friend Tommy that I want to take care of more than just your vagina.”
She jerks her head back and arches her eyebrows.
“I’m not talking about the other hole, dirty bird. I’m talking about your heart.”
“Oh.”
I’m not sure which part of her anatomy she’s more afraid of me penetrating.
“Is this…a good idea?”
“We wouldn’t exactly be the first people in history to start with what we have in bed and work outwards from there. But if I’m being honest, I think there was something more between us even before we started sleeping together.”
She nods, shutting her eyes tight like we’re about to go upside-down on a roller coaster.
“I just want you to know that I’m really nervous. Scared, even. But it has nothing to do with you.” She places both of her hands over my heart, like she’s protecting it.
“I know.” I kiss her forehead.
“You know I’m nervous and scared or that it has nothing to do with you?”
“Both.” I kiss her right cheek.
“You are infuriating.”
I kiss her left cheek. “I know. I don’t know exactly why you’re so nervous about being in a relationship. But I promise I won’t push you into anything you aren’t ready for.”
Her head tilts back, eyes still closed. “Just promise me you won’t make me converge-sate.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Good.”
This woman is a little bit nuts, and I’m a little bit nuts about her.
I finally do what I wanted to do the first time I saw her in this dress. I move her against the wall, slowly turn her to face away from me, and slide the fingers of one hand just inside that deep V opening, my fingertips grazing her nipple. With the other hand, I reach down to pull up the hem of her dress. She places her hands flat against the wall, shuddering.
I whisper, tickling the skin on her neck with my warm breath, “Brace yourself, Bernadette. You’re about to be pursued by an esquire.”
This morning, we took Daisy to Central Park to play frisbee at seven a.m. When we got back, Bernadette joined us for a folksy sing-along session in the living room. For our Saturday night date, I told Bernadette to dress up but didn’t tell her where we’d be going. She didn’t curse at me for nearly as long as I expected her to.
I know she’s at home, but she has been strangely quiet for the past hour. I thought she’d be running around, trying on different outfits or something, but maybe she decided not to listen to my wardrobe directions.
I put on my suit jacket and straighten my tie. “Be a good girl,” I tell Daisy. “See you soon.”
At exactly seven o’c
lock, I knock on the door to 4A. Two seconds later, I’m ready to drop to my knees. Bernadette Farmer stands before me in a formal black floor-length gown with a sleeveless top and flouncy lacy skirt, like it’s no big deal. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and I just know that perfectly-applied red lipstick will be all over our faces before the night is over.
She gives me a long, slow once-over. “Hot damn, you do look good in a suit, you bastard.”
“You’re slightly overdressed for the rave,” I say with a straight face.
She laughs. “Fuck you. Let’s get this date over with.”
I clutch at my heart. “The eight words every man dreams of hearing at the beginning of the night.”
“Do I need a jacket? Are these shoes okay?” She hikes up her skirt to expose a pair of strappy heels and painted toenails to match her lips.
“Those shoes are more than okay, and I don’t think you’ll need a jacket.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I better not, buster.”
I hold her arm as we walk down the stairs. She uses both hands to hold up the hem of her dress.
“Is this dress the result of one of your drunken online shopping sprees?”
“Yes. You like it?”
“Did I not mention that I fucking love it? If I weren’t such a gentleman, my head would have disappeared up that skirt as soon as you opened the door.”
“If I weren’t such a lady, I’d mount you right here on the steps.”
We both freeze when we reach the landing and see Mrs. Benson and her poodle standing there in the third-floor hallway.
“Well, don’t you look like a fancy lady and gentleman tonight?” she says with that grin of hers. Alessandro starts barking, so she rushes to get him inside her apartment and we’re spared an actual conversation.
We both have trouble holding in our laughter until we reach the second floor.
When she sees the stretch limo and chauffeur that awaits us outside the building, Lady Bernadette groans. “Oh brother.”
“I knew you’d love it.”
“I could kill you,” she says to me under her breath, but she smiles graciously at the driver, who holds the back door open for us. “Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening, ma’am.”
The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends Page 37
