I'll Take New York

by Miranda Dickinson

  Bea felt sick. How dare Russ lay blame for his stupid crush at her door? She didn’t know he still liked her after all this time: especially considering the steady stream of girlfriends he’d seen over the years. How could he possibly accuse her of leading him on? ‘That’s not fair and you know it.’

  ‘Maybe not. But, hell, what in life is? I’m not moving until you tell me.’

  Was he trying to end their friendship for good? Fighting tears, Bea pleaded with him. ‘Stop it, Russ! Stop pushing me!’

  ‘It’s a simple question. Why hold out on me now?’

  ‘Because it’s none of your business …’

  ‘Oh really? I thought we were friends.’

  ‘So did I.’ She marched up to him, determined to leave even if it meant knocking him out of her way. ‘But after tonight, I’m not sure we still are.’

  Stunned, Russ stepped aside as Bea stormed past him. She was hurt and confused by her best friend’s clumsy attempt at a pass and more than anything else she wanted to be as far away from here as she could get.

  Dear Grandma Dot,

  Thank you for your letter. I am so sorry you have had to carry all that pain alone for so many years and I appreciate beyond anything I can express that you chose me to share it with. I don’t think you have anything to reproach yourself for: Abel loved you and that’s all you need to remember.

  I’m sorry to turn this back to me, but an awful thing happened this evening and it’s blindsided me.

  My best friend Russ, who I trust more than almost anyone in the world, made a pass at me. I didn’t see it coming. And now I feel terrible …

  I started talking to him while I’ve been trying to figure out the whole Jake situation. No specific information, of course, but he seemed to understand so I just told him how I was feeling. It never occurred to me that he was interpreting what I said in the wrong way. But now I can see that all the time I was talking about Jake and how I feel about him, Russ thought I was trying to tell him that he was the one I was secretly in love with.

  I can’t believe I didn’t work this out before tonight. I feel like an idiot because now he thinks I’ve been leading him on. And although I’m mad at him, how can I blame him? If the roles were reversed I would have thought the same thing.

  This is a disaster. I have to work with him tomorrow and I don’t know if he’s ever going to trust me again.

  At the same time, I’m no further forward with the Jake thing. In fact, I’ve probably made it worse.

  I’m so confused. And I wish things were different. Why does life have to be so hard?

  I love you. Thanks for reading my woeful rants in these letters! I wish I could report better things, or work out this stuff on my own.

  Write soon.

  Lots of love,

  Bea xxxx

  Bea had just sealed the letter when a loud knock at her door made her jump. It was late: the only person likely to call on her at this hour was the owner of a certain smoky grey cat with a death wish. Smiling, Bea walked over and opened the door.

  ‘What’s Gracie done this time—?’

  ‘Did the cat get out again?’ There on her doorstep, as if nothing had happened, was Otis Greene. His black hair was longer and swept back from his face and his dark eyes were fixed on her.

  ‘How did you get in?’ Bea asked, the shock of seeing him again after seven months slowly permeating her consciousness.

  ‘The caretaker guy. We go way back.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  Otis feigned offence. ‘You mean you aren’t glad to see me?’

  Her heart contracted but she lied: ‘Not particularly, no.’

  ‘Bea. I’m hurt.’

  This was not what Bea wanted. Today had been too confusing and upsetting without her ex casually strolling back into her life. All she wanted to do was sleep. ‘What do you want, Otis?’

  He stepped towards her. ‘I want you, Bea. I’m being serious now. I’ve tried to live without you this year but I keep coming back to one thing: I love you. I never stopped loving you.’

  In her most private moments, Bea had imagined this happening despite everything in her wanting it not to be so. She wanted to think that she had moved on, shelved her feelings as easily as she had filed away Otis’ belongings in her apartment. But looking at him tonight revealed how much of an effect he still had on her. ‘Please don’t say that.’

  ‘I have to. I’m no good without you, Bea. We spent five years together: does that mean nothing to you any more?’

  Bea rubbed her eyes. ‘No, of course it doesn’t. But I can’t have this conversation tonight, Otis: I don’t have it in me to fight with you.’

  ‘Then don’t fight me.’

  ‘It isn’t that simple …’

  ‘I know I let you down. Hell, it’s all I’ve thought of since we broke up. Didn’t Russ give you my messages?’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  Probably because he was too busy thinking I was in love with him … ‘Ask him, not me. Please go home.’

  ‘Not unless you agree to have dinner with me.’

  Bea stared at Otis, not sure whether to laugh him out of the building or be angered by how easily he thought they could be reconciled. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Have dinner with me. There’s a lot I’ve worked out and I want to share it with you. Most of all, I want to apologise. You endured far more than I had any right to ask of you. I was a jerk. Please, Bea, things are different.’

  Bea had heard all of this before: why should she believe him now? ‘I don’t think they are. You and I just don’t work. I’ve accepted it; you should too.’

  Otis gave an exasperated sigh. ‘You think I haven’t spent this time trying to figure out my behaviour? Trying to put it right?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’ve been doing. And it’s too late. We said all we had to say when we broke up. I don’t know what else you want from me.’

  ‘The chance to explain: and I don’t mean make more excuses. I’ve done more soul-searching in the last seven months than at any other time in my life. I’ve made some major decisions and I want to share them with you. No expectations; no pressure.’

  ‘Things have changed for me, too. I’ve decided that I don’t want another relationship.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t believe you. You’re never happier than when you’re in a relationship: you told me that.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been happier without one this year than I ever felt when I was in one.’

  ‘Well, that hurt.’ Otis took a step back.

  ‘It wasn’t meant to … I’m sorry, it’s how I feel.’

  ‘Have dinner with me,’ he insisted. ‘Let’s talk about this.’

  ‘No.’

  He folded his arms. ‘I swear it, Bea, I won’t leave unless you accept.’

  Bea considered threatening to call the police, shouting loud enough for Alfonso the caretaker to hear and come to her rescue, or slamming the door in Otis’ face. But none of them would get the message across to him. The fight was gone from her this evening; and she had to admit she was intrigued by her ex’s sudden reappearance. If she accepted, he would leave and she could finally go to bed. She could always cancel the dinner date later. Resigned to the inevitable, she sighed.

  ‘OK, fine.’

  The way Otis lit up caused a small tug at her heart. When he smiled it was as if a million tiny lights snapped on behind his eyes. It had been one of the very first things she‘d noticed about him.

  ‘You mean it?’

  ‘I said so, didn’t I?’

  He clapped his hands. ‘You won’t regret this! I’m going to show you how serious I am.’ He backed away into the hallway, his promises still floating back towards Bea. ‘I’ll explain everything … You’ll see!’

  Bea watched until he had disappeared down the stairs, then slowly closed the door.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Javacious coffee shop, East 43
rd Street

  He wasn’t hiding.

  Honestly, he wasn’t.

  There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for Jake’s decision to duck into the welcoming coffee shop on East 43rd Street that Tuesday morning. He wanted a coffee. And maybe a pastry. Definitely a pastry. How could he help it if the pastry in question was a contender for the World’s Largest Cinnamon Bun? If it meant he had to spend more time eating it, surely that was a situation beyond his control?

  He noticed an oversized clock on the wall behind the coffee counter and made sure he chose a seat with his back to it. What he didn’t know, he couldn’t be responsible for. A lady at the next table flashed a brief smile in his direction over her copy of the New York Post. Jake reciprocated.

  See? This is a nice place. It would be rude of me not to give it my full attention …

  The fact that Javacious was located directly beneath the offices of a certain Sheehan, Sheehan and Owen, attorneys of choice for the well heeled of New York City, was merely a coincidence. And that Jake was due to attend a meeting there with the lawyer he fully expected to be as detestable a sleazebag in person as his letters suggested was an unavoidable fact – even if, at this moment, he was doing his level best to avoid it. He shuddered at the thought of what lay ahead this morning. Bad enough to have to go through the legally protracted death of his marriage without having to witness the joy his wife’s lawyer was taking in dragging him through it.

  He stared at his mobile phone on the blond wood table and wondered if he should call Bea. She’d called him when she needed help last week. Could he do the same?

  He thought back to a conversation they’d had one weekend, as they enjoyed coffee in Prospect Park. The first signs of autumn were evident in the trees that surrounded the small coffee kiosk in the northern end of the park, the tips of their leaves beginning to transform from vivid green to gold.

  ‘I have another item for The Pact list,’ Bea had said, blowing the steam from her coffee cup. ‘One advantage of being single is never having to sit for hours in your apartment unpicking every conversation with your ex.’ She gave a grim smile. ‘Although I confess I’ve yet to fully master that one.’

  At the time, Bea’s sudden mention of Otis had seemed unexpected, a sign of their growing trust in one another. But now, as Jake remembered it, the occurrence seemed to take on a prophetic significance.

  He’d added the new item to the list anyway, but then had paused, wrestling the question he really wanted to ask. The divorce had been playing on his mind, accompanied by unwelcome memories reminding him of how happy he and Jess had once been. Bea’s confession made him wonder if she would understand what he was feeling.

  Bea must have picked up the subtle change in the air between them because she raised her head and looked at him. ‘You’ve gone very serious. What’s on your mind?’

  ‘Can I ask you something? About Otis?’

  She gave a half-laugh – a subconsciously defensive move – but her eyes still smiled. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Are you still in love with him?’

  The question’s impact on Bea was clear: she raised her eyebrows and blew out a long, slow breath. ‘Wow. That is a question.’

  What was he thinking, springing such a personal enquiry on a brand new friend? ‘I’m sorry,’ he began, hastily trying to reverse the conversation. ‘Forget I mentioned it …’

  Bea had held up her hand. ‘No it’s – it’s fine. Actually, I’m glad you asked. It’s something I haven’t spoken about with anyone else. And it’s hard, you know, because most of me wants to be totally over him. He doesn’t deserve me to still be in love with him: I deserve more than that.’

  Jake leaned closer across the table. ‘But …?’

  Bea shrugged, her smile sad. ‘But I still do. Of course I do. I thought Otis was The One, crazy as it sounds.’ She gazed out across the park. ‘I spent five years of my life hopelessly in love with him, overlooking the shortcomings and the disappointments, believing that the love we shared was enough. Even when it turned out it wasn’t enough, I still loved him. I’ve just resigned myself to the fact that it will be there for a while yet.’ Her sea green eyes flicked back to Jake. ‘Is that how you feel about Jess? Are you still in love with her?’

  Her directness hit him like a boulder. ‘Yes – yes, I think so. Sucks, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yes. Sucks big-style.’

  They shared a smile. Jake drained the dregs of his coffee. ‘Fancy another?’

  ‘Go on, then. Actually, I’ll get these.’ Bea rose and grabbed Jake’s mug. He watched her walk across to the coffee kiosk and noticed how differently she walked to Jess. Where his former wife strode like a lithe gazelle, Bea almost skipped, her auburn ponytail bobbing as she moved. There was something fun about the way she carried herself: it made him smile. Jake marvelled again at how much her friendship had come to mean to him. It was a relief to find someone else in the world who understood exactly how he felt – and didn’t judge him for it. They were bound together by the misfortune of their own lives; their dark gallows humour a telltale currency of love lost. But it was good to be able to laugh about it instead of avoiding the subject, as his brother, Rosie, family and friends all felt the need to.

  When Bea returned, she placed a fresh coffee mug in front of him and retrieved two chocolate muffins from her coat pocket. ‘Extra fortification for broken hearts,’ she announced, making Jake smile. ‘Also, a bribe to get you to tell me more about Jessica.’

  He gave a theatrical groan, but secretly loved Bea for asking. He needed to talk about this – and Bea was the perfect person to hear it. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘When did you realise you were still in love with her?’

  ‘Oh man, months ago. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I’m still angry with her and I don’t think we could be together in the way we were before, but how I feel about her hasn’t changed. I wish it had.’

  ‘I know what you mean. That’s why I’m so determined to get through this and live life for myself. I don’t want my heart to rule my life any more. It’s had far too much time to do that already.’ She broke the edge off her muffin and ate it, her eyes focused somewhere far beyond Prospect Park. ‘So, would you go back to her if she asked?’

  She was sounding dangerously like Desiree now. ‘Wow. You really are the hopeless romantic, aren’t you?’

  Bea blushed, brushing the comment away with her cake crumbs. ‘It could happen.’

  ‘It could. But it’s not going to.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You have to ask?’

  ‘OK, fair point.’

  ‘Has Otis tried to get you back?’

  ‘He did, to begin with. Now I think he’s got the message, so …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Anyway, it’s immaterial. Despite how I feel, he’s not good for me. And when I take my heart out of the equation, I can see that he was never the man I needed him to be. Our relationship was mostly me doing all the hard work and him coasting through it. He said he loved me but – I don’t know if his understanding of love is the same as mine. I keep thinking … I wonder sometimes if he loved me because I made it too easy to be in a relationship.’ The sadness returned to her eyes again and Jake had to fight the urge to offer her a hug. ‘I mean, I overlooked everything he did wrong and I never held him to account for it. I just rolled over, time after time, and made excuses for him. That’s not love: that’s being a doormat. I can’t go back there if I want to have any chance of being the person I want to be. Do you know what I mean?’

  Jake was nodding before she finished speaking, surprised to hear words he could have spoken of himself coming from her lips. ‘That’s why I like you, Bea James.’

  ‘Mutual, Dr. Steinmann.’

  Smiling at the memory now as he hid out in Javacious, Jake found Bea’s number and his finger hovered over the call symbol beside it. He hesitated. What would she say that could help? She couldn’t attend the meeting for him – or even with him; sh
e had no experience of dealing with divorce. She might feel awkward, or worse, she might start to see him as a damaged separated man and not the confident, happy friend she seemed to enjoy spending time with. No, it wasn’t worth the risk. Although just to hear her voice could help …

  Jake jumped as the phone rang, Bea’s name and number replaced by the caller ID of his attorney.

  ‘I’m at Sheehan, Sheehan and Owen,’ Chuck Willets said, the implied question mark at the end pricking Jake’s guilt. ‘You nearby?’

  ‘Ten minutes away,’ Jake lied, hoping that the sounds of the coffee shop weren’t audible to his lawyer.

  ‘Make it five, Jake. Don Sheehan’s going nuts here.’

  Jake stared at the considerable remains of his half-eaten cinnamon bun and resigned himself to his fate. ‘No problem. I’m on my way.’

  Five minutes later, travelling in the elevator to the seventh floor, Jake felt his mobile vibrate and found, to his surprise, a text from Bea:

  Just wanted to say thank you for saving my skin last week. I think I might be a bit in love with your accountant. Doug has sorted everything out and settled our account with the IRS. Thank you. Russ and I owe you. Bea x

  Taking advantage of his last few moments of freedom, Jake quickly typed a reply:

  Happy to help. Sorry I’ve been busy with work. We need another NY trip soon! Doing battle with lawyers today – pray for my sanity! Jake

  If he believed in signs, Jake would have wondered if Bea had somehow sensed he needed a friendly word today. But rationally, he was simply glad that she had thought of him. As he waited for the elevator doors to open, Jake turned off his phone. For the next hour, he had to focus.

  The friendly smile of his lawyer was the first thing he saw, followed swiftly by the extremely unfriendly visage of Don Sheehan. Jake congratulated himself for accurately guessing the appearance of the man intent on fleecing him in Jessica’s name: he was squat, short and balding; a thin layer of sweat permanently beaded across his fleshy top lip; his expensive suit unable to contain the large gut overhanging his trousers.