by Katie McCoy
I rolled out of bed, my head aching as if I had spent the night slamming a rock against it. I was barely able to get myself upright; the floor seemed to be shifting beneath my feet, my stomach and head all incredibly pissed at me for getting out of bed at all.
Even though I was sure I looked as horrible as I smelled, I knew I had to get downstairs. Had the yelling come from her apartment? She was usually the only other person in the building home at this time. Was she in trouble?
The fear that something had happened to her was enough to get me out the door and down the stairs. I got to her door, adrenaline now propelling me. I banged my fist on the door, my own head hating me more and more. I ignored the pain and banged again.
“Ella!” I called through the door. “Ella, are you okay?”
I reached for the doorknob, prepared to break through the door if I had to. Thankfully it was open.
“Ella?”
There was sheet music all over the floor.
I opened the door wider and saw Ella curled up in a ball in the middle of the floor.
My heart dropped to my knees.
“Ella,” I rushed over to her, kneeling beside her. She was shaking, her skin clammy, but she looked unharmed.
Finally she lifted her head. I let out a whoosh of air.
“What happened?”
“Jake?” her eyes were round, her face pale.
“Are you okay?”
She sat up. “I’m fine.” Her expression went from scared to withdrawn in an instant. Color began to return to her face. I reached out for her, but she wrenched her arm away.
“You look terrible.” She wrinkled up her nose. “Are you drunk?”
“I’m hung over as fuck,” I told her. “What happened here? Did someone break in to the apartment?”
She stood, still a little shaky on her feet. “No one broke in.” Ella began gathering music from the floor. She wouldn’t look at me. “Mark was here.”
Anger surged inside me. Mark? That fucking prick.
“Did he do this?” I demanded, pointing at the music.
“No.” Ella collected the music sheets and placed them on top of the piano. “I did.”
“You did?” The adrenaline had faded and my head was back to feeling like someone was standing on it. I was confused. Ella had thrown the music?
I clenched my fists. “Did he try something?” Jealousy rose in my throat—an unfamiliar feeling. Clearly I was not okay with this Mark guy hanging around Ella. Especially if this is what it resulted in. Though I still wasn’t exactly sure what “this” was.
“He didn’t try anything.” Ella’s voice was flat.
“Good,” I said. “I don’t want him hanging around here anymore.” I sounded like a Neanderthal, but it was the truth.
“Excuse me?” Ella’s eyes went wide. “That is not your decision. This isn’t your apartment. And it’s not like we’re exclusive or anything.”
We weren’t? But then I realized that I had just assumed she wasn’t seeing anyone else, because I wasn’t. We hadn’t talked about that at all.
“No,” I said slowly, sensing this was a trap.
“I’m not just going to wait around for you, Jake.”
Shit. There it was.
“I should have called.” I dug my phone out of my pocket. “My phone died and I forgot to charge it.”
“Because you were drunk,” she said flatly.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I was drunk. Because I had a really shitty day at work.”
Sympathy flickered across her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Ella told me.
“Yeah, I am too.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I should have called.”
“Yeah, you should have.” Ella was now gnawing at her lip.
“But I guess we should talk,” I said, even though the last thing I wanted to do was have that discussion now. That should be a short discussion at least, but as I opened my mouth to tell Ella that I wanted to be exclusive, she lowered her eyes to the floor and said:
“I think we should take a break.”
Oh. Wait. What?
“It’s just moving too fast.” Her own words were a rush and she wouldn’t look at me.
“What?” This was all wrong.
“I just really need to focus on the competition and clearly there are things you need to focus on at work and I think we just got a little caught up in something that neither of us have time for.”
“Uh.” I didn’t know what to say. Then a thought crossed my mind. A bad thought. “Are you getting back together with Mark?” I demanded. “Is that what he was doing here?”
“What?” Ella blinked at me. “No, that’s not—”
“Because I would prefer you just tell me the truth instead of jerking me around.” I seethed, the hangover and the thought of Ella and Mark together making my blood boil. “Guess I should have seen that coming,”
“Now you’re being the jerk,” Ella accused, her face red.
“Am I? This guy seems to call every time we’re together, obviously he still has a thing for you.”
“I am not interested in him,” Ella insisted.
“Then why didn’t you tell me he was your ex-boyfriend? And that you lived together? Obviously you didn’t tell me for a reason.”
She was silent. It was then I noticed that her hair was pulled back in a bun and she was wearing the same loose dark clothes she wore before we got together.
“Guess you’re dressing for him now too.”
“What?” Ella looked down at her outfit. “No, I just—”
“Different look for different guys. I get it.” I realized I sounded a little nuts, but I was too angry to stop myself.
“That’s not what this is!”
“No? So this is just some coincidence?”
She didn’t have a response.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I shook my head. “Well, glad I could provide you some temporary comfort before going back to the guy you wanted all along.”
“Jake, I don’t—”
But I was already halfway out the door.
“Don’t bother,” I told her, casting one last look over my shoulder at her, standing next to her piano. “I get it. It was fun. Thanks for the lesson.”
I saw her flinch but it was too late. I took my wounded pride and my hangover and walked out of her apartment.
29
Ella
How had everything gone so wrong so fast? Somehow in the aftermath of my panic attack and the residual anger about Mark, I had allowed my insecurity to speak for me and stupidly suggested that we take a break. What had I expected to happen? Had I really expected Jake to ignore my request, take me in his arms, and make me forget all the shitty things that had happened just in the last few hours? No, of course not.
He did what anyone would do when being faced with rejection. What I would have done. What I basically did. He left. He got out.
I couldn’t blame him. Clearly I was a mess.
What had I been thinking these past few weeks? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the kind of girl that hooked up with a guy like Jake. I was the girl who had panic attacks every time she tried to play in public. The same girl who had stupidly thought she could win a competition that required her to play in public. Mark was right. The judges had been lenient. But they wouldn’t be for the last round. And here I was, fooling around with some guy. Some guy that made my knees weak and my pulse race and my heart . . .
No. I was not getting my heart involved in this.
Jake was gone. I had done that to myself. But it was better this way. Really. It was.
My phone rang.
“El!” Nina’s voice was cheery on the other end. “Okay, so I know you said you weren’t interested but now that you and Jake are dating and you seem more open to, you know, fun things, I really think you should reconsider going to Burning Man with me this year. It is so much fun. And nudity is entirely optional!”
I opened my mouth to tell her no, bu
t instead, I burst into tears.
Nina was in my apartment within the hour, loaded down with ice cream and Channing Tatum movies.
“He always makes me feel better when I’m down,” she explained.
And even though the last thing I wanted was to watch yet another sexy man I couldn’t have, I let her load my laptop with the first movie as we climbed onto my mattress with our ice cream. She didn’t ask any questions, which I appreciated. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about it. But after a few minutes, I couldn’t help myself and started crying into my mint chocolate chip.
“Hey.” Nina put aside her rocky road and gathered me into her arms. “Shh, shh.” She stroked my hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s Jake,” I blubbered.
“Well, yeah, I figured it wasn’t your piano,” she responded. When I gave her a confused look, she nodded towards it. “The only other important man in your life,” she clarified.
“You think my piano is a man?”
“Well, it’s big, gorgeous, and completely silent unless you touch it,” Nina sighed. “Sounds like my dream man, actually.”
I couldn’t help smiling at that.
“I always thought of my piano as a woman,” I told her. “Elegant and majestic.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Nina tilted her head, looking at it. “Does it have a name?”
Jake had asked me the exact same question once.
I dug my spoon into my ice cream. “No.”
“Struck a nerve?” Nina wanted to know. When I didn’t say anything, she shrugged. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything. I’m perfectly happy to sit here and eat ice cream and watch Channing Tatum and his beautiful abs. But you are clearly upset about something that I’m assuming has to do with Jake. So if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
“We broke up,” I sniffled into my ice cream.
I waited, half-expecting Nina to say that she knew it would happen, or that I really wasn’t Jake’s type anyways, or some version of what Mark had told me. But she didn’t.
“Then he’s a moron,” she said firmly.
The tears flowed anew. “I broke up with him,” I wailed.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know!”
Nina stopped the movie and sat back against my wall.
“Okay.” She crossed her arms. “Tell me everything that happened.”
I recounted him not calling and Mark and the fight. She listened intently, nodding and pursing her lips. When I was done, she picked up her ice cream and took a bite.
“Okay,” she said, looking as if she was a Supreme Court Justice presiding over a very important case. “You’re both morons,” she finally said.
“But—”
“Nope.” She held up a hand as if she had made her final ruling. “This is your fault as much as it is his. He should have called. You should have been more understanding that he had a bad night and needed to blow off steam. He shouldn’t have tried to tell you who you could or could not spend time with. You shouldn’t have reacted by breaking up with him. And he shouldn’t have accepted that, as you were clearly out of your mind when you did it. So you’re both wrong.” Nina took another bite of ice cream. “So now the real question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “What if he decides that breaking up was a good thing?”
“Then he’s the moron,” Nina decided. “But I don’t think he will. I think he’s crazy about you. And you’re crazy about him.”
“I am,” I told her, admitting it both to her and to myself.
“Good.” She squeezed my hand. “Because I like him. And I like the two of you together. He makes you happy.”
“And fat,” I pointed out, remembering what my mom had said.
“You’ve never looked better,” Nina told me. “And you’re my sister, and I love you, but you need to have a life outside Frances.”
“Frances?”
“I’ve decided your piano is named Frances,” Nina declared, pointing her spoon at it. “And Frances is telling me that as much as she loves you, you need to spend your time with someone other than her once in a while.”
“Frances said that?” I tried to hide my smile.
“She did,” my sister continued. “She also said that she really likes Jake. She says that you guys are a good match, and that he brings out the best parts of you. She’s also really proud of you for wearing colors, in fact.”
“Is she?” I squeezed my sister’s hand.
“She is. And, what’s that?” Nina tilted her head towards the piano. “Oh, my. Frances says that the next time you get frisky on top of her, make sure to clean her off when you’re done.”
“Nina!” I smacked her, scandalized. “We have not gotten frisky on my piano.”
“No?” She looked at me, clearly not believing me.
“No . . . ” A small smile escaped my lips. “It was the piano bench.”
“I knew it!” Nina crowed. “I knew you were my sister after all. I’m so proud!”
“Shut up.” I poked her and settled back into the bed to watch Channing Tatum gyrate and finish off my pint of ice cream.
30
Jake
“You look like shit,” Dakota told me as I came into the restaurant that afternoon.
“Thanks,” I muttered, my head aching. I had spent the afternoon replaying the argument with Ella over and over again. How had things gone wrong so quickly? But I knew the answer. It was my fault. For not calling, and then for acting like a total jerk about Mark. Once I was back in my apartment, and my brain started to work again, I realized that I had been totally out of line. But I couldn’t bring myself to go back downstairs and apologize. After all, she had broken up with me. I didn’t like it, but I had to respect it. Right?
And instead of resting, I did the thing you’re not supposed to do when you’re hung over and dehydrated, and I drank an entire pot of coffee without eating anything. So now I was awake, but I wasn’t happy about it at all.
I squinted at Dakota who was clearly amused at my death-warmed-over appearance. “Why do you look fine? Weren’t we at the same bar last night?”
“I guess I just know how to handle my booze,” she bragged, flipping her braid over her shoulder.
“Yeah, guess so,” was all I could muster up before I dragged myself to my office.
Dakota followed, a concerned frown on her face.
“Okay, so this isn’t just a hangover.” She shut the door behind her. “What’s wrong?”
I sat in my chair, in the office I had worked really hard to get, and put my face in my hands. My head pounded.
“Ella and I broke up,” I mumbled.
“What?!” Dakota’s shriek was like an ice pick to the brain and I winced.
“Not so loud, okay?” I begged, peering up at her through my fingers. “I feel crappy enough already.”
“I hope so.” She crossed her arms, glaring down at me. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“What?”
“I thought you were done with this whole casual, quick-to-dump, bullshit,” Dakota accused.
“Hey!” I held up my hand. “Ella broke up with me.”
“What?” Dakota’s expression shifted immediately from mad to sympathetic. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” I put my face back in my hands before she could see the lie.
But Dakota was smart and had known me for too long to be fooled by that.
“What did you do?” she accused.
“I forgot to call her last night,” I confessed. “My phone died and I was so drunk that I just went home and fell asleep and forgot to call her.”
“Okay.” Dakota leaned on the edge of my desk, chewing at her nail. “Okay, that’s not great, but that’s not terrible. Did you explain why you went out last night?”
“I said I had a bad day at work,” I told her. “She seemed to understand.”
“But
?”
“But, she thinks things are moving too fast. We both have other things we need to focus on.”
“So why not just slow down? Take some time off until things settle down?”
“I don’t know,” I said, though I knew trying to slow down with Ella seemed as likely as slowing down a speeding train. I had fallen for this girl, whether I had planned to or not. Fallen hard. And now I had royally fucked it up.
Dakota was watching me, the way she always did when she knew I was keeping something from her.
“What else?” she demanded. “What else did you do?”
I took a deep breath. “I might have accused her of using me to get back with her ex-boyfriend,” I said as quickly as I could, as if the faster I said it, the less angry Dakota would be. It didn’t work.
“Jake!”
“I know, I know.” I shook my head. “Look, I know I screwed up, but there isn’t anything I can do about it, so can we just move on and focus on the menu for tonight.”
“Really?” Dakota put her hands on her hips and gave me her most disapproving look. “You’re just going to give up?”
“Look.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, praying for relief. Or death. “This is what Ella wants.”
“No it’s not!” Dakota insisted. “She was upset. You could have fixed it, but you messed it up more.”
“I know that!”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
But I didn’t have an answer.
I didn’t have much time to think about how to fix my relationship—the first time that word didn’t give me hives—with Ella, because we had a busy night. Apparently Matt Metcalf’s review had made people so curious about how terrible the food was, that we had quite a few people looking to “hate-eat” our unoriginal fare.
But even though the restaurant was busy, the owner was not pleased. I got pulled aside at the end of the longest evening of my life to get my ass handed to me.
“We have a reputation to uphold.” Marilyn, the owner was a wealthy, old school restaurateur. She specialized in finding new talent and fostering them. But she had never really warmed to me. She seemed to prefer finding chefs doing their own thing, rather than promoting within. Trying to get her to take me seriously had always been an uphill battle. It probably didn’t help that I had been a real pain in the ass when I was first hired. But I had changed a lot since then. I had changed a lot in just the past few weeks, in fact—though it wasn’t evident in the work I did in the kitchen. I just needed a chance.