Novelista Girl

by Meredith Schorr

  I pressed my lips together. “Gotcha.”

  “Anyway, Nicholas was uncharacteristically detached at our post-trial meeting. He’s typically very hands-on, but he deferred all of the decision making to us. I normally prefer when clients take a backseat and let me do my job, but it was so unusual for Nicholas that I was compelled to confront him. He told me you had asked for a temporary split and he was distracted. If Daneen overheard, it was my fault, not his.”

  I shrugged. “The end result is the same. Daneen used it against me. Surprise, surprise.”

  “Nicholas didn’t, um, cheat on you, did he?” Rob cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to be nosy.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, offering a small smile. “No, he didn’t cheat. Unless work can be considered ‘the other woman.’ If so, he’s perfected infidelity to a science.” I averted eye contact. In Rob’s world, prioritizing career ahead of loved ones was probably a no-brainer.

  “Have you told him how you feel?”

  I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Repeatedly. He keeps telling me he loves me, but I think he loves his job more. He certainly spends more time with it.”

  “Lawyers tend to work long hours, Kim. Something you of all people are acutely aware of.”

  “Which is why I waited until I was twenty-eight to date one. I should have waited forever.” Heat crept up my neck. “No offense.”

  Rob smiled. “None taken.”

  “When we first started dating, Nicholas was swamped, but then you hired Daneen, and it freed up some of his time. He was thrilled to get out of the office at a decent hour a few times a week so he could have dinner with me. He was devoted to his job, but he wanted a life outside of the office, and he genuinely enjoyed his time off. Sure, he worked less set hours than, say, a bank teller, but I was cool with that. I have a life too, you know? And we kept up with each other by text. Our text messages were so playful and…” I coughed. I was going off on a tangent. Rob didn’t need to know about our sexting. “The point is, I never doubted for a second that no matter how committed Nicholas was to his job, he preferred his time with me.” Tears blurred my vision, and I struggled to catch my breath. “He’ll never admit it, but I don’t think he feels that way anymore. I’m afraid he’d rather be at work than with me.”

  A moment of awkward silence ensued, and I instantly regretted confiding in Rob. How could I possibly expect him to understand, much less take my side? I lifted myself to a standing position and wiped my eyes. “Any preferences for lunch tomorrow?”

  Seemingly unfazed by the rapid change of subject, Rob said, “Not really. Somewhere in the area. Table for two. One o’clock.”

  “You got it.”

  “Thanks, Kim.”

  I waved him away. “Just doing my job.”

  After reserving a table for Rob’s lunch meeting the next day, I found myself paralyzed to release the email I had prepared to Nicholas attaching Daneen’s document. I was torn between including a personal greeting and defaulting to the all-business “Please see the attached.” My usual closing, “Love, Kimmie” was not an option. Although my love for him wasn’t in question, it seemed inappropriate under the circumstances. Yet resorting to formal communication was too cold and suggested we weren’t even on speaking terms. I was fairly certain the attachment was meaningless and merely a prop Daneen had used to remind me of my current living situation—as if anything short of early-onset Alzheimer’s disease would allow me to forget—but I wasn’t going to take the risk. Knowing the firm would not pay me overtime for staying late to debate such an esoteric matter, I settled on:

  Dear Nicholas,

  Daneen asked me to send this to you.

  Talk to you soon,

  Kim

  I clicked send and took the much needed breath I had been holding. Nicholas responded before I even had a chance to exhale.

  Thanks, Kimmie.

  I love you.

  See album: Some Girls, track 1.

  Naturally, my first course of action was to search “Album Some Girls” on the internet. I learned that Some Girls was a Rolling Stones album and, according to Wikipedia, the first track was “Miss You.” I miss you too, Nicholas. Narrowly escaping following my heart’s desire (along with that of my lower extremities) before my brain was fully onboard, I logged off, said goodbye to Rob for the day, and headed to my temporary home.

  Chapter 37

  “Yes, married life is amazing,” Caroline said, her cheery face supporting her claim.

  It was our first video chat with Caroline since her visit to New York City. I still hadn’t quite wrapped my head around her spontaneous marriage. I feared her whirlwind nuptials would result in an annulment or divorce before they reached their first anniversary, but I kept my cynical outlook to myself. I didn’t want to be the shark in her calm waters. I also wondered if I was projecting my floundering love life on her.

  Bridget, who was sitting next to me on the couch, didn’t share my filter. “Aren’t you a little afraid you’re living The Bachelor experience? It’s all champagne and hot tubs now, but what happens when you return to real life?” she asked unapologetically.

  I was afraid Caroline wouldn’t respond well to such unsolicited pessimism. As much as we adored Caroline, our comfort level with her did not reach Kim/Bridget levels. I swiped Bridget’s leg with my foot as a silent warning.

  Bridget flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to compare you guys to The Bachelor. Although Felix can hold his own with any of the guys on that show.” Her face turned red. “Not that I’m attracted to your husband.” She stuck her fist in her mouth. “I’ll just shut up.”

  “Good idea,” I muttered before chuckling.

  “It’s all right, girls,” Caroline said, her smile unwavering. “I’m used to the doubts by now. My mom made sure to tell me she’s still friendly with her old divorce lawyer. Of course, she tossed it out in the conversation randomly as if I wouldn’t know she was suggesting I’d need one.” She rolled her eyes. “There are no guarantees in life or love, but my money is on us.”

  Knowing how much money Caroline made, I hoped she wasn’t being literal.

  “My sister’s support came as the biggest surprise. I’m hoping she’ll encourage my mother to be more accepting of the situation.” She shrugged. “But enough about me. What’s going on with you guys?” She glanced from Bridget to me.

  “Your life is more exciting than ours,” I said.

  Bridget turned to me with a quizzical expression on her face. “Not entirely true.”

  I was unsure what she was alluding to with that statement. We had agreed to skip over our temporary feud—there was no reason to relight a fire that had been extinguished and forgotten—but I didn’t know if Bridget was referring to my split with Nicholas or something else. I returned her questioning look and silently penetrated her brain space. I had my answer in no time. “I moved out of Nicholas’s apartment.”

  First, Caroline’s mouth opened, and then her brows furrowed. “Why?”

  Trying to be as succinct as possible, I explained what had happened, taking care to express how lonely coupledom had been for me over the last several months so she would understand why I felt inclined to take such drastic measures and why it wasn’t simply a matter of Nicholas asking for forgiveness and me accepting his apology.

  “Nicholas hasn’t hung up his boots yet though.” Urging me on, Bridget said, “Tell her, Kim.” She beamed at me.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was enjoying this a little too much, although if I was being honest, I was beginning to enjoy myself too. I told Caroline about the flowers and the texts and was about to share the latest when Bridget interrupted. “Tell her about the comment on your blog.”

  Caroline’s eyes opened wide. “What comment on your blog? Wait. Which post? I’ll open a new window and read it on my other monitor.”

>   “Please tell me you didn’t delete it,” Bridget said.

  “No way.” My eyes filled with tears as I recalled the comment Nicholas had left earlier in the afternoon on my latest book review. “It’s the book review for the new Betsy Harbick novel, Driving With Old Boyfriends.” I wiped my eyes.

  “Okay. Give me a sec to find it,” Caroline said.

  While we waited, I scooped a handful of M&Ms from Bridget’s candy bowl, putting the green ones to the side. Urban legend or not, I was horny enough without help.

  “Here we go.” Caroline read, “‘Serena Dawson gave up on love after her college sweetheart, Michael, disappeared after graduation without so much as a Dear John note. But when the unexpected death of a fellow classmate requires her to take a cross-country—’”

  “Can we please skip the review and go directly to the comments?” Bridget rolled her eyes.

  Caroline shrugged. “Sorry. I was thinking of downloading it and wanted to know what Kim thought.”

  Always pleased to hear when someone relied on my book recommendations, I belted out an enthusiastic “Thank you.”

  Waving her arms animatedly, Bridget said, “Five pink champagne flutes. Okay? Now get on with it.” With a guilty look, she added, “Please.”

  “Fine,” Caroline said. “There are fourteen comments. Which one is from Nicholas?”

  “Eleven,” Bridget and I said at the same time. Even though I had read it a dozen times, my heart raced in anticipation, and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

  Caroline laughed. “This had better be good. You’re certainly hyping it up enough.”

  “It’s good,” Bridget promised.

  “Found it. Here goes: ‘Your review was great, Kimmie. Here’s mine: I thought the couple had amazing chemistry and enjoyed the slow burn—the witty banter and flirtation that eventually led to a night (and morning) of mind-blowing sex, despite a misunderstanding involving a rather bitchy girl from high school. I thought I had it figured out until they fought—totally his fault. I nearly pissed my pants when she sang to him and was blown away that she chose Crystal Gayle. Most chicks would choose someone obvious like Taylor Swift or Whitney Houston (R.I.P.), but not my girl…I mean, the heroine. Anyway, I’m reserving my review for when Part II comes out. It’s fairly predictable though: the hero’s totally gonna win her over. She can’t resist his scruff. I have it on good authority it has grown in quite nicely just for her. Other parts are being groomed for her pleasure.’”

  Caroline looked up, an amused expression on her face. “He’s a pisser.”

  “I know,” I said, blushing and barely suppressing a smile.

  “You’re totally caving,” Bridget said knowingly.

  I pursed my lips. “I totally am. Damn.” My walls were crumbling like a cookie, and I hated myself for it, because Nicholas still hadn’t said a thing about making more time for me. Would giving in now be equivalent to accepting the status quo of our relationship?

  By the time I went to bed, Bridget’s charcoal chunky wool blanket curled snugly around me like a second skin, I’d made up my mind to move back in with Nicholas. Even though he hadn’t directly promised to readjust his priorities, his endeavors over the past week convinced me his workaholic tendencies had nothing to do with his affection for me as I’d feared. Nevertheless, a relationship needed to be nurtured by both parties in order to survive, and I would reunite with Nicholas only on the condition he make a conscious effort to do his part. For the first time in weeks, I fell asleep eager to wake up the next morning knowing I would be next to Nicholas in the bed we shared—although underneath or on top of him would work fine too—in twenty-four hours’ time.

  Chapter 38

  “Okay, let’s talk.”

  I had drafted and redrafted my text to Nicholas, debating how specific it should be, and finally settled on “Okay, let’s talk” because it suggested I was open to discussion, but it wasn’t a done deal. Holding my breath, I brought my finger to the phone, but quickly drew it back as I heard muffled voices approaching from around the corner. I recognized Rob’s authoritative tone and Daneen’s grating one and then a deep, soft, and sexy-as-hell voice that could only belong to…Nicholas? As my pulse raced, I quickly smoothed out my hair, wishing Rob had warned me Nicholas would be coming into the office. The voices and the clanking of Daneen’s high-heeled shoes increased in volume, and I deleted my text and sat up straighter in my chair.

  The three of them walked by my cubicle on their way to Rob’s office, and Nicholas acknowledged me with a nod and a sad smile. I responded with a lame wave, since the timing for a personal discussion was way off. As I drank him in, from his beautiful head to his perfect feet, I wondered if the matching black and white gingham shirts we were wearing were a sign everything would work out. Before I could contemplate further, Rob said, “Hold my calls” and beckoned the others to follow him inside. Daneen honored me with a self-satisfied smirk before closing the door behind them.

  Clearly, I wasn’t going to get any work done with Nicholas less than thirty feet away from me. With every second and then minute that passed, I sat in my uncomfortable swirly chair willing myself not to call Rob and demand he cease bogarting my boyfriend. At last, the door opened, and Daneen walked out. I waited for Nicholas to follow, but Daneen closed the door again, leaving Nicholas alone with Rob. Not wanting to invite conversation with her, I pretended to be busy typing a document, but either seeing through my façade or not caring if she interrupted my concentration, Daneen stopped at my desk and hovered.

  I removed my fingers from the keyboard and looked up at her. “Can I help you?”

  She shook her head at me in undisguised mock sympathy. “Poor Kimmie. Must be difficult seeing Nicholas, considering…”

  I clenched my jaw in response to hearing Nicholas’s nickname for me from Daneen’s thin lips. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last, but it never ceased to rankle me. I raised an eyebrow. “Considering…?”

  “Breakups are never easy,” she said, before walking away with a swagger.

  My first instinct was to race after Daneen and tackle her to the ground, but Daneen’s livelihood practically subsisted on these jabs poorly disguised as kindness, and I didn’t want to feed her diet. And besides, I was not in the midst of a breakup. On the contrary, as soon as Nicholas left Rob’s office and I got him alone, we would kiss and make up. And later, he would help me move my stuff out of Bridget and Jonathan’s apartment. Granted, my “stuff” was the equivalent of a suitcase and a wilting bouquet of pink flowers, but once I told Nicholas I was ready to move home, I knew he’d want to keep me close.

  It was approaching one o’clock, and on any other day, I would head down to the cafeteria for my lunch break, but I didn’t want to risk not being there when Nicholas finally came out. To most people, the firm’s lunchroom was merely a convenient place to grab soup, salad, a sandwich, or even a decent warm meal at a reasonable price without ever leaving the building, but it held a sentimental significance for me too. On more than one occasion before we were dating, Nicholas would spot me at a table reading on my e-reader or writing a blog and would ask if he could join me. Even though I relied on my lunch breaks to stick to my self-imposed strict blogging schedule, my crush on Nicholas from afar was epic, and I happily fell behind on my reviews for an opportunity to get to know him better. Nicholas typically worked through lunch, but I later learned he’d been keen on me from a distance too and welcomed the chance to talk one on one. I hoped yearning for those early days, when Nicholas considered time with me as valuable as his billable hours, wasn’t a fool’s dream.

  My stomach was rumbling from hunger, and if Rob didn’t release Nicholas soon, I might need to pee in a bucket. Needing a mindless distraction, I flipped through the pages of a magazine left in Rob’s mailbox even though I had zero interest in anything written in the International Trademark Association’s biweekl
y bulletin unless one of the firm’s attorneys or Nicholas got a mention.

  Finally, I heard the squeak of a door opening, and my body warmed in anticipation. I assumed Nicholas would come by to offer another tempting reason why I should come home and was eager to see his eyes light up when I said yes. I was already smiling when he walked out and certain he’d know what I was thinking without my needing to say a word.

  But Nicholas didn’t even see my face. From the moment he stepped out of Rob’s office, he kept his head down and walked swiftly past me without so much as a wave. Risking whiplash, I turned around and watched him disappear into the hallway. Thinking maybe he had to use the bathroom too, I waited for him to come back until I heard the ping of the elevator and then silence. It wasn’t like Nicholas to ignore me. Worried something ominous happened during his meeting with Rob, I sent him a text asking if he was all right before approaching Rob’s door with shaky legs and knocking gently.

  Rob swung around in his chair. “Shouldn’t you be at lunch?”

  Tapping my foot against the carpet, I said, “I’m taking a late lunch today. Is…uh…is Nicholas coming back?”

  Rob shook his head. “Not unless he left something behind.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to declare Nicholas had, indeed, left something behind—me. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Why?” Rob asked. His blank expression worsened my fear that Nicholas shunning me likely had less to do with the status of his company’s trademark portfolio and everything to do with the status of us.

  “Nothing.” I headed back to my desk without another word.

  Needing some air, I spent my lunch hour sitting on a bench in Madison Square Park, a public park located a few blocks from my office. My meal consisted of a bottle of water as the smell of burgers wafting through the air from the neighboring Shake Shack was not enough to pique my appetite for anything more than answers to why Nicholas had walked right by me without saying anything. Rob appeared unfettered by whatever was on Nicholas’s mind when he left his office, which suggested it was not work related. But even if he was distracted by work, he would have at least acknowledged me, especially considering the state of our relationship. Not responding to my text because of his job was not the key to getting me back. Instead, it was a reminder of exactly why I moved out in the first place. Maybe my decision to move back in with him was premature. More disturbing was the possibility Nicholas no longer cared. What if the comment on my blog was his last attempt at wooing me, and when I didn’t respond, he cut his losses and moved on?