Wrong Bed, Right Girl

by Rebecca Brooks

  SOS, she sent in a group text to her friends. Things got bad with Reed, surprise surprise, and I need a place to stay.

  Some part of her dared to hope that Reed was right behind her. He’d burst through the door, take her in his arms, and tell her what an idiot he’d been to let her get on that train. He’d explain what he’d meant in a way that made sense. He’d talk to her, instead of giving her so little to go on.

  But as the minutes passed, and the apartment stayed quiet and empty, she knew that was too much to expect. It was Max all over again, and she’d been a fool to think it was anything else.

  She had a show opening in less than a week, and if she didn’t put it all on the line on opening night, there was no way she’d be invited back to keep dancing as a principal lead in the ballet. This was her big break. If it all went south, she’d have no one to blame but herself. Not Reed, for breaking her heart. But her, for getting so caught up in him to begin with.

  When Rose texted back that her fiancé was traveling for work and she’d love to have the company, Talia told herself as she packed her bags that this was a good thing.

  It was better to know where she stood with Reed than to keep pretending. It was better to spend more time with friends and stay focused on dance.

  It was better to leave his apartment, dropping his spare key on the kitchen table on her way out.

  It was better not to turn around for a second look at this place where she’d been so happy, before she closed the door on that unexpected chapter of her life and made herself move on.

  …

  The rest of Reed’s day was endless.

  Football with his brothers on the beach, barbecue with his cousins, Sunday dinner at home, sitting between his grandma and his mom. It should have been the perfect weekend, everyone laughing, raising a toast.

  But Reed was gnashing his teeth through every second.

  He couldn’t believe Talia had left. Just up and gone, like it was totally okay to tell his family she was staying for the weekend and then change her mind halfway through. Like she could go through life doing whatever she wanted, saying whatever she felt.

  He wished he could have stopped time, stepped back, taken a minute to breathe and figure out what the hell to do before that car door slammed shut on him.

  But it was all too fast, too much, too soon. The thing in the kitchen, seeing the spark in his mom’s eye when she asked Reed if this was the one. Those words coming out of his mouth, trying to rebuild the wall around him, brick by brick.

  Afraid that if he said yes to his mom, if he said as much as a maybe—if he in any way left the door open that this could be happening, this could be real, he could be…in love…

  Then the next thing he knew, it’d be over. It was too fragile to last, too fleeting to hold. He and Talia hadn’t had those kinds of conversations. He hadn’t said those words aloud.

  He wasn’t even sure he could.

  She needed to understand—he wasn’t like her. He didn’t say things like that. So what if he’d once seduced her with candles, music, wine? He wasn’t that kind of guy, the kind who showed up with roses and knew what to say. The romantic type. Someone who’d gush to his mom about how great she was, or hold her when she needed it. Someone who knew what to say in the moment, who opened his mouth and let the right words come out.

  Someone else would have known how to make her stop packing her bag and keep her with him that day. Someone else would have known how to stop her from getting out of the car and slamming the door.

  But not him. Never him.

  He was just…himself.

  If she didn’t like it, if she wanted someone more perfect, less Reed—well. There wasn’t a lot he could do about that.

  But as much as he wanted to let it go, he couldn’t. The whole drive back to the city, he kept replaying the scene in his head. The conversation in the car outside the train station, her effort to blink back her tears. His effort not to look at them, to pretend they didn’t exist. And if they did, they had nothing to do with him. Nothing he could do to fix them. No way for him to change.

  He’d just felt so cornered, so panicked. By how upset she was. And by how right she was, too. Hadn’t he known sound carried in the house? Hadn’t he heard himself saying those things to his mother, and known he should stop?

  But he’d kept doing it anyway. Because they were things he’d needed to say. He’d had to keep his family from hovering around him, thinking this was going to pick up where his relationship with Lisa had left off. Wedding bells, a family, a life shared instead of a life alone.

  They didn’t understand that he couldn’t have that. He didn’t want that. He wasn’t like Aaron, settling down. Aaron’s job came with risks, but he was protected. He wasn’t the lead on their cases, and he had no ambitions to move up in the ranks, to make it to lieutenant or even captain one day. He could feel secure about going home to his wife and soon-to-be child and trusting everything would be okay.

  But Reed couldn’t stay where he was. His dad had been bigger than that. He had to be bigger, too.

  If that meant he had to do it on his own, so be it. His dad may have gone to work every day knowing it was dangerous, it was rough, and there was a real chance he might never come home. But Reed couldn’t do that to someone. Make them wait and wait for him, and put them through that kind of pain. Make them afraid to go to the bodega for lunch, afraid to look over their shoulder, afraid of who might be coming after them.

  As city traffic grew heavier, hemming him in, he fiddled with the radio until he gave up on finding anything good and sat there stewing in silence. He was going to drop off the car, go back to his apartment, sit Talia down, and give it to her straight. The simple truth was that he just couldn’t make any promises. He couldn’t plan for the future. If that didn’t work for her, then they had their answer. He wasn’t someone she could be with long-term.

  This time together had been wonderful—he’d never deny that. But it wasn’t real life. Talia had to know there were limits to how far this could go. If they weren’t on the same page about their relationship, he was prepared to let her go.

  Or at least that was what he told himself as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. That was what he was sure of as he turned the key in the lock and opened the door.

  He knew immediately that something was different. It was that sixth sense, the ability to step into a room and read it immediately. His gut screaming inside him, telling him to wake the fuck up.

  The couch was clean and tidy, pillows stacked against the arms. No extra shoes thrown by the door. No New York City Ballet water bottle by the sink.

  He walked into his bedroom.

  No bags on the floor. No suitcase. No tights hanging over his chair.

  No clothes piled on the dresser, no books on the nightstand. No second toothbrush in the bathroom next to his.

  No makeup. No bobby pins. No lavender shampoo.

  He sat on the bed. Kicked off his shoes. Looked at the floor.

  He moved like a robot, on autopilot. Like when his dad died, like when Lisa left, and it felt like everything was ending except the days kept coming, one after another, and he had to keep doing things, moving and sleeping and eating and living, even if something inside him had broken and couldn’t be repaired.

  He lay down on the bed for a moment, but then he had to get up. He could smell the lavender lingering on the pillow, the sense that she’d been there moments before and would be back any minute now, standing in the doorway, wearing one of his shirts draped over her bare thighs. Grinning at him before she came to bed.

  He knew that in some way, he’d asked for this. He’d said it wasn’t serious. He’d acted like it didn’t matter one way or another if she stayed.

  But there in the sudden emptiness of his apartment, everything felt different.

  He pulled out his phone. He thought about calling her, texting her, telling her to come back.

  He got as far as pulling up her number and froze. The
same feeling washed over him as in the car. What would he say? What would he do?

  What did he even want out of this, anyway?

  He got up, put the phone back in his pocket, and paced around the living room, agitated, too twisted around to think. His eyes landed on a stack of files he’d been avoiding—notes from the Jonnie West case, pictures, details. All the evidence he was supposed to be studying, trying to make a connection. Trying to figure out how to nab West and his crew.

  He picked up the files. His fingers were itchy. Everything in him felt jumpy, unsure.

  But he knew how to do one thing. He knew how to put his head down and work.

  It was Sunday night. He’d been off all weekend with no expectation that he’d be in until the next morning. Aaron was home with Maggie, no doubt unwinding after the weekend. The office would be empty. No one was expecting him there.

  But that was all the more reason to do it, to show he was dedicated and putting this case above anything else. To get a head start on Monday and hit the ground running when the week came.

  He picked up his keys, put his shoes back on, and left the apartment without a backward glance. He didn’t want to see the empty couch or the place where Talia used to leave her shoes. Once, it had felt like her things were an intrusion, taking up space in his life. Now, he could feel the loneliness everywhere. He didn’t need to turn around to let it smack him in the face.

  He had work to do. He had his own life, one that didn’t—couldn’t—include her.

  She’d made her choice. There was nothing left to talk about, nothing more to explain.

  He couldn’t even be upset as he headed to the subway to catch the train downtown. He was alone, but that was how it was supposed to be.

  It sucked for now. But it was better that way, and he knew it. He’d let his head go just this once. He wasn’t going to forget it again.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Hey, earth to Talia. Grab the salad bowl?”

  Rose nudged her on the hip, and Talia snapped to attention. What was happening? Oh, right. Brunch.

  She reached for the carved wooden bowl and the matching tongs. Was there anything in Rose’s new apartment that wasn’t perfect? She and Jason had crystal stemware and they weren’t even married yet. Meanwhile, Talia now had no apartment, no boyfriend—not even an occasional fuck buddy letting her crash with him—and no idea what to do next.

  Everything felt upside down. At least I have my friends, she reminded herself as she helped Rose get ready for brunch. Once a month, the four of them got together for besties brunch, and this month was no exception. It had been Talia’s turn to host, and at one point she’d thought about asking Reed whether she could have it at his apartment. Maybe invite him to stay. Meet her friends. Be part of her life.

  Then everything turned to shit. So obviously that question was out.

  Thankfully, Rose had stepped in at the last minute. Why she couldn’t have let Talia stay in their enormous apartment even if Jason was there was a whole other question, one Talia was working on not blurting out to Rose while she was benefitting from her hospitality.

  “Talia!”

  Talia whirled around. “What?”

  Amanda held up a bottle of champagne. “You’re on another planet today. Here, you need more of this.” She grabbed Talia’s empty champagne flute and refilled it.

  “That’s definitely not what I need,” Talia said. Opening night was in two days—she should have been chugging water and stretching every muscle she had. But she sipped it anyway.

  “Breakups require bubbly,” Amanda said. “Not cut with orange juice, either. Only the straight stuff will do.”

  Talia opened her mouth to protest, yet again, that she hadn’t just gone through a breakup. But before she could remind Amanda that she and Reed were barely technically together to begin with—as he’d so helpfully let the world know in Long Island—Amanda held up a hand.

  “Don’t give me that shit about how you weren’t dating,” she said. “You met his family. You slept in his bed. You were dating. Which means now you’re contractually obligated to wallow and feel bad.”

  “Great,” Talia said, raising her glass. “Lucky me.”

  She knew Amanda was just trying to cheer her up, and any other day, she might have appreciated it. But she didn’t have time to wallow and feel bad right now. She barely had time to breathe. Hal was working her extra hours, trying to get her prepared.

  But it was hopeless, and she was pretty sure Hal knew it. The rest of the world was about to know it, too.

  It wasn’t the steps—she had those down. It was something deeper. Something more. It was like she’d left all the music she had inside her back in Reed’s apartment. Back in his bedroom in Long Island, where she’d once felt such indescribable joy.

  Now, there was nothing. She could put her arm or her leg where Hal told her. But she couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t dance.

  “At least you have the show,” Jessie said. “You as the lead, all of us screaming in the front row. They say living well is the best revenge. And you, my dear, are living fabulously.” She gave Talia a kiss on the cheek as she sashayed by, carrying a tray of bagels.

  If only she were right.

  “You can’t scream at a ballet show,” Talia said.

  “Screaming metaphorically,” Jessie amended. “On the inside.”

  “You didn’t seriously get front-row seats, did you?” She frowned, but Jessie was grinning.

  “Shawn got a whole block of them.”

  Great. Not only would she humiliate herself in front of Hal, the dance company, and every reviewer from every major newspaper, magazine, website, and blog that had any kind of arts coverage, so that she’d probably never land another role again, but her friends were going to be there, plus her parents, an aunt and uncle coming in from New Jersey… Everyone but Reed.

  She pushed the thought from her mind.

  “Don’t worry,” Jessie said. “You’re nervous now, but you always say that when the lights come on, nothing else matters and you just get to dance.”

  But Talia wasn’t sure that was going to be true this time.

  “You need a bagel,” Jessie said, ushering her to the table. “Soak up the booze.”

  “Everyone needs bagels,” Rose agreed. “Boys suck.”

  “What are we, twelve?” Amanda asked.

  “Sometimes it feels like it,” Rose said with a sigh.

  “What’s going on with Mr. Fancypants?” Amanda asked, taking a bagel, smearing it with cream cheese, and piling on a stack of lox.

  Talia picked at the edges of her bagel. She didn’t feel like eating. Just looking at the table made her stomach turn.

  But she couldn’t help noticing Rose’s momentary deer-in-headlights look, quickly smoothed over with a tight-lipped smile.

  “Nothing’s going on with Jason,” Rose said quickly. “He’s traveling a lot for work. But we’re great. We’re really…”

  “Great?” Jessie supplied when Rose fumbled.

  “Exactly! We’re narrowing down wedding dates as soon as he gets back.”

  Jessie caught Talia’s eye and gave a small, worried shrug. Ordinarily, Talia would be the first asking Rose what the hell “great” was supposed to mean, or why this engagement was taking forever. But right now, she didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like she had any idea what it was like to live with a boyfriend for real—let alone a fiancé. She was the last person to be giving relationship advice.

  “I said, have you at least talked to Reed?”

  “What?” Talia hadn’t realized her mind had been wandering again. “No, he hasn’t called. Can’t say I’m surprised.” She grimaced at her uneaten bagel. “He’s not exactly Mr. Communicative.”

  “But have you called him?” Jessie asked, passing the fruit salad around.

  Talia stared at her. “Of course not.”

  “Do you think it would help? I mean…at least to get some closure, so you feel better before the show
?”

  “Closure’s bullshit,” Amanda declared. “It doesn’t exist. Everyone these days just ghosts.”

  “What she said.” Talia nodded toward Amanda, the only other one who knew what a hellscape dating in New York was like. “Besides,” she added. “Reed’s not the problem.”

  She tried to sit up straighter. Tried not to feel the champagne swimming in her head. But it didn’t come out the way it had in her mind, like she gave no fucks. Judging by the looks on her friends’ faces, nobody believed it.

  “Then what is it?” Jessie asked warily.

  “The problem is that I suck.”

  Her pronouncement was met with silence.

  Then Amanda burst out laughing. Once she started giggling, Jessie couldn’t help herself, either. Pretty soon Rose had joined in, too.

  Talia didn’t break a smile. “This isn’t some pity party. I really think I should sit down with Hal and tell him I can’t do it.”

  “Fuck no,” Amanda said, at the same time that Rose asked if she was serious.

  Jessie narrowed her eyes. “Who in the world can take your place this close to the performance?” she asked.

  But Talia had already considered that. “Chelsea,” she said.

  “Who the hell is Chelsea?”

  “She became my understudy, so she knows the steps. At this point, she could probably do it better than I can. She’s a good dancer, even if she—”

  Talia swallowed the rest of the sentence before it came tumbling out. Even if she’s buying from the dealer Reed’s trying to nab. That was opening too many cans of worms. Besides, she was trying to steer the conversation away from Reed. Not fixate on him all day.

  “You’re writing yourself off before you’ve even had a chance,” Rose said. “You can’t do that.”

  “Trust me,” Talia said. “I know myself, I know the other performers, and I know what it looks like to suck on stage. I’m tired. Not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing for me,” she said quickly to Rose, before she could feel bad about her couch. “It’s just, you know. It’s not the same.”

  “So.” Jessie folded her hands politely in front of her on the table. “If the problem isn’t Reed, then why is it, Miss Lassiter, that you think you’re distracted this week?”