The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends

by Kayley Loring

  “Ohhh, you don’t have to apologize for anything. I’ve loved working for you.” My voice is cracking. Here come the nose tingles. “This has been a great job.”

  “It can still be a great job, Bernadette. Come with me. Catskill—all of Hudson Valley—is a wonderful place for artists. You’ll love it, I know you will. You have to. I don’t know how I’ll get along without you.”

  “But I don’t… I don’t know anyone there. Where would I…”

  He sits on both of his hands now and looks down at the floor. “You can live with me.” He looks up to check my reaction before proceeding. I feel some flushed cheeks and an intense eye spasm coming on. “It’s a huge five-bedroom house on three acres. Come. I’ll show you the website.” He gets up to grab his laptop from the office.

  I can’t move, so he returns to the sofa with it. I don’t think I’ve breathed since he said the words “Come with me.” He is not the man I wanted to utter those three little words to me today.

  “You can have your own wing,” he says gallantly as he brings up the real estate website. “There’s a pool and spa and a pond and a garden and a stunning view of the mountains.”

  He ain’t kidding. The house is nearly four thousand square feet, on three acres of land. Aside from the luxury pool and exterior kitchen, the surrounding area does remind me a lot of Vermont.

  “I need you with me, Bernadette. I’ll pay you more. I understand what it would mean for you to have to pick up and move, but…I can pay you more attention out there too.”

  “I don’t… I don’t understand exactly what you mean.”

  He places the laptop on my lap and puts more distance between us on the sofa. “I don’t either, I’m afraid. All I have are my feelings and longings and confusion. I see how you look at me differently lately. Is it too late?”

  “Too late for what?”

  “To start over. You and me. I don’t know how to approach this.” He waves at the space between us. “There are boundaries, and I’ve always wanted to be respectful of them. But I need you to know that I think about crossing them. Do you understand?”

  “Sebastian, I… This is a lot to take in.”

  “I know. I know, and I’m sorry about that. You have time to decide about the move, of course. But I do need you to come with me to the new house on the weekend. It’s empty. I’ll need help finding people to decorate and set everything up the way I like it. You know what I need. I need you to help organize and orchestrate things. I don’t need you to pack or anything, of course, I’ll hire people to do that.” By that, he means I’ll hire them.

  “You need me to go with you to Hudson Valley this weekend?”

  “Are you unavailable?”

  “Um, no. I mean, I’m not unavailable.”

  “Good. I’ll drive. We’ll get two rooms at the inn that I’ve been staying at. It’s really wonderful. As Anita would say, it’s so quaint you’d just shit yourself. Or if it makes you uncomfortable…”

  “No, it’s fine. That’s fine. I can go. On the weekend, I mean.”

  Fucking Sebastian Smith.

  What is happening?

  My crush has been oh so crushed. I was besotted with him for years, and now I’m not. So why do I feel the need to go home, put on my Fleetwood Mac, and listen to “Landslide” over and over while weeping? I’ve been so preoccupied with Matt that I’m just now realizing the youthful admiration I had for my boss is dead and gone. What’s left is a professional respect and, to be honest, annoyance that I had wasted so much time obsessing over him.

  Yes, it was an obsession.

  There, I said it.

  And yet…I am his work wife, and while it would be difficult for him to find a replacement for me, it would be damn near impossible for me to find another job like this if I decide that I still need a job like this.

  I am so tired all of a sudden.

  When Matt texts me to let me know that he’s already in the Upper West Side because he had a meeting uptown, I tell him I’ll be home soon. It seems to take about a month to get from Tribeca to my building this evening for some reason. The train runs late, everyone and his cousin is out walking around, and tourists are finding the exact perfect spot to stop and take pictures right in front of me.

  I hate everything.

  When I turn the corner onto my street, I stop in my tracks.

  The statuesque woman with the great hair who’s exiting my building is definitely Vanessa. She doesn’t see me as she crosses the street. She looks…not happy, exactly, but optimistic. And the opposite of me. She’s the glowy Instagrammable cherry on the shit-cake of my day.

  I wonder if Matt called her to let her know that he’s moving to Brooklyn.

  I wonder if he asked her to move there with him.

  It doesn’t make any sense that he would, after the past month we’ve spent together, but not much about this day makes any sense to me so far. Maybe his parents hated me. Maybe after I left the restaurant, his parents encouraged him to get back together with Vanessa.

  I trudge up to the fourth floor, just wanting to get this over with. When I get there, I see Matt in the hallway, approaching my door. He’s holding a small envelope, about to bend down to place it through the crack. When he sees me and registers the look on my face, he slides the envelope into his back pocket.

  “Hi,” he says hesitantly.

  “Hi.”

  “You’re back.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Oh God. It’s come to this. This is all we have left to say to each other.

  “I saw Vanessa,” I blurt out. I keep my eyes locked on his, expecting him to look away or reveal something that I don’t want to see—guilt, regret, shame. Instead, what I see is relief. What I feel is anything but that.

  21

  Matt

  “I’m glad you saw her,” I say. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

  Bernadette looks so fragile and defensive right now. It seemed like the best time to mention that Vanessa suddenly decided to stop by was never. The truth is, she wanted me to know that things didn’t work out with Todd. She wanted to let me know that she regrets the way she ended things. She wanted me to know that she still cares about me.

  “Thanks” is what I said to her. “I’ve got a lot going on right now, so you’ll have to excuse me, but I appreciate you coming by.”

  I was being polite. She told me she’d be in touch. She may have read it as me keeping things close to the vest, as usual. The problem with being stoic and expressionless all the time is that the people who think they know me well don’t realize that sometimes that means I actually don’t have any feelings for them.

  But Bernadette’s just standing there, with her keys in one hand and her other hand on the door to her apartment, waiting for me to say more.

  “Did you talk to her?” I ask.

  She shakes her head.

  “She just texted that she was in the neighborhood. She finally dropped off a few little things of mine that I left at the apartment. I mean, at her apartment.”

  This doesn’t appease her to the degree that I had hoped it would. I shouldn’t have to tell her that nothing happened. She should know that I wouldn’t let anything happen.

  “Nothing happened,” I say. It comes out sounding more defensive than I’d intended. “Are you okay? You look really tired.”

  “Yeah. I am.” She starts unlocking her door, not looking at me. “This day has really kicked my ass.”

  I’m about to ask her what I can do to make it better, but she continues.

  “I found out that I need to work this weekend. So I won’t be here. When you guys move out.”

  “Work, huh?”

  “Out of town. Hudson Valley.”

  And now my ass is getting kicked. I actually feel like she just sucker punched me. “You’re going to Hudson Valley with Sebastian? For the whole weekend?”

  “Just overnight. I think. It’s—he bought a house. I have to help him arr
ange some things. I’m going to be pretty busy for a while. Hang on, let me get something.”

  She goes inside her apartment without inviting me in. So I get to stand here in the hallway, thinking about her spending the night out of town with Sebastian Smith. I won’t hear her next door when she gets home. I won’t be the guy who’s always calling and texting her to check up on her. I’m not that guy. I may be Emoji Guy for her, but I refuse to be the guy who begs for reassurance.

  She comes back out into the hallway, offering me a little bag from a pet boutique, with tissue paper bunched up around whatever’s inside it.

  “It’s a little jacket and winter booties for Daisy. For when it gets cold out. They were half-off. In case…well, I just saw them and got them for her because they were cute.”

  “Thanks.” I don’t take the bag from her. “Do you want to see Daisy? Give this to her yourself?”

  She lets out a little sigh and nods.

  I let her into my aunt’s apartment. Daisy gets up from her dog bed in the living room as soon as she sees Bernadette and comes over to her, her entire body wagging. I watch my soon-to-be ex-neighbor give my dog all of the affection she doesn’t seem to think I deserve right now. Tears are streaming down her face while she whispers sweet nothings to Daisy, as if it’s the last time she’ll ever see her.

  “It’s just Brooklyn,” I grumble. “It’s not that far. You’re still going to see her…” As soon as I say it, it hits me that she may have already decided that she won’t.

  She wipes her face with the back of her hand and nods. “Were you going to give me a note? Under the door?” She asks me this like it’s some sort of a challenge.

  I remember that I put it in my back pocket. “It just says to let me know when you’re home.”

  “Oh.” She looks down at Daisy, and she seems to come to some sort of decision. She takes a deep breath before saying, “Sebastian is moving to Hudson Valley. He’s going to be based there. And he asked me to go with him. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She finally looks up at me. Her eyes go wide. “Matt, unclench your jaw. You’re going to crack your teeth!”

  Emoji Guy is dead. “He’s asked you to move with him to Hudson Valley, and you’re going there with him this weekend, to spend the night. Did I get that right?”

  “Yes and no. I mean, yes, but it’s not how it sounds. I don’t… I don’t feel the same way about him. The way I used to.”

  I do like the sound of that.

  “Do you feel the same way about Vanessa? The way you used to?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Good.”

  For a second, it feels like this is going to turn into an actual conversation. The kind that people have when they’re in a relationship. She rubs Daisy’s head one last time before standing up.

  I have to ask… “I thought you were going to get back to your own painting career.”

  “I was. I am, but—”

  “But you’re actually considering moving to Hudson Valley with Sebastian Smith?”

  “I can’t not consider it, Matt. I’ve worked for him for years. He asked me to move there with him, so I’m going to consider it. That’s all. If I don’t move with him, I’ll be unemployed a lot sooner than I thought I would be. And I can’t just quit until I help him find and train my replacement. That’s what I was planning to do, but now I’d have to do it sooner. I have a lot to think about.”

  I feel myself shutting down just as quickly as she is. I’m having a flashback to all the conversations with Vanessa that led to me moving out. “Yeah. I get it. You need your space.”

  “Yeah. That’s me.” She shakes her head. “I need my space. Like I said, I expect I’ve got a lot to do for work. I’ll have to reschedule his whole summer and organize…a lot. So…if I don’t see you before—good luck with the move. I’m going to go cry in the shower now.”

  I can see her swallowing a lump in her throat. She makes a sad little chipmunk sound as she heads for the door.

  I hate that I’m about to ask this, too. “Do you want your painting back?”

  She spins back to face me. She’s not sad anymore—she’s angry. “What? I gave that to you. I made a deliberate choice to let you have it. Are you telling me you don’t want it anymore?”

  “I still want it.”

  “Good. Then you better keep it.”

  “I will.”

  She calms down and covers her face. “What’s happening?”

  I can’t stand this. I go over and put my arms around her. All I can say is, “Don’t go.” I don’t want her to go now. I don’t want her to go to Hudson Valley on the weekend. I don’t want her to move to Hudson Valley.

  The phone in her pocket vibrates.

  Of course it does.

  She pulls away and reaches for it, shaking her head.

  I can see that it’s Sebastian calling.

  Of course it is.

  “I have to take this. I’m sorry.” She answers the phone as she walks out.

  And we’re back to that. Sebastian’s calling—end of discussion. It’s her job, I get it. But I would have let an after-hours call go to voice mail for her. I would have done so much for her, it scares me.

  I can’t believe I was about to leave her a note asking her to move to Brooklyn with us. It was a crazy idea. Seeing Vanessa just made me realize how much I prefer being with Bernadette, but that doesn’t mean either of us are really ready to move in together. Does it? I just didn’t think that my moving would mean that we were done doing whatever it is that we’ve been doing.

  She did tell me that she’d never fall for me, right from the start. She did say that if someone makes a decision, they should stick with it, and I guess she really meant it. I should have asked her if those clear boundaries were also geographical and limited her to engaging in intimate acts within this particular borough.

  I can’t even do what I’d normally do to blow off steam right now—blast classic rock while blasting my abs and arms in the comfort of my own home and then try to soothe my dog by singing to her. Because I don’t want Bernadette to hear any of it. I don’t want to go to my old gym because I don’t want to risk running into Vanessa. City of eight and a half million people, and I’m only trying to avoid two of them, but it means I have to go back to the office to work out.

  This is what the McGoverns do. When there are emotions to be processed, we get moving. My parents have never had a fight. They just play tennis and golf until one of them feels like a winner. I used to surf. Now I work out on land. By the time I’m done working through this mess of feelings, I’ll have a ten-pack.

  When Daisy and I leave the townhouse for the last time, Bernadette is gone.

  We didn’t cross paths at all the last couple of days, and I didn’t even hear her next door. I was so busy getting utilities and everything else set up at the new place, arranging to have my stuff moved out of storage—because I never ask my assistant to do personal stuff for me (like some asshole bosses). It was when I was ordering a new bed online that it really hit me just how strange it would be, to be living on my own again. Just my dog and me. Not that Bernadette was ever officially living with us, but it did feel like it for a while.

  It’s only been a few months, so it’s surprising to me just how much this townhouse has come to feel like home to me. I don’t think Daisy will miss all of the stairs, though. I leave a gift for Dolly after making sure there are no dog smells or stains left anywhere. I even slipped a thank-you card under Mrs. Benson’s door.

  I don’t let my aunt know that I won’t be giving her spare key directly to Bernadette. I leave it in an envelope and slide it under Bernadette’s door on Saturday, with a note that has my new address and a photo I had printed of her with Daisy in the park. There were a million things I thought about writing in the note, but in the end, it was just This is where we’ll be and the new address.

  “This is where we’ll be moping around and thinking about you” is what I could have written.


  “This is where we’ll be playing sad guitar and missing you.”

  “This is where you should be.”

  Daisy looks up at me, whines, and shakes her head, as if to say: “You fucking pussy. Not to be a drama queen, but you’re letting your one chance at real love slip away because you’re afraid she doesn’t want you as much as you want her. If you weren’t the guy who feeds me, I’d just pee on you.”

  Women.

  Can’t live with ’em, can’t live next door to them, can’t imagine what life will be like without Bernadette in it.

  But it looks like I might have to.

  22

  Bernadette

  FROM: DOLLY KEMP

  TO: BERNADETTE FARMER

  Dearest Bernadette—salutations from the great city of Miami (LOL just kidding)!

  I’m sure my handsome nephew has kept you up-to-date, but I wanted to personally let you know that I’m at Marty’s place now and will return to 4B tomorrow. This may not affect you at all, as you may be spending nights in Brooklyn now, for all I know. I have my key, of course, so there is nothing you need to do.

  I really have missed our townhouse and neighborhood. I look forward to seeing you again and catching up on juicy no-holds-barred girl talk (that’s a threat and a promise)! My sister and brother-in-law liked you very much when they met you at lunch, FYI. The McGoverns may not be exuberant people like you and I are, my dear, but they do know a good thing when they see it (eventually).

  See you when I see you—but you’ll probably hear me running around screaming “it’s good to be home!” first.