In the three years you’ve been with us (internship and full-time), your hard work, enthusiasm, and dedication to the group has been duly noted, and it’s with great pleasure I say, ‘Pack your bags! London’s calling!’—the six-month Elstree placement is yours. Please take this evening to think it over and let me know your answer in the morning. We’ll be meeting with HR tomorrow at ten to discuss details and answer any questions you may have.
You’ve been such a great addition to the New York team and I’ll be lost while you’re gone, but you’ve earned this chance, Riley. Congratulations and well done!
Best, Nick
Oh. My. God. She read it again, in case the emotional exhaustion of the day was making her hallucinate. No, it’s real—the job’s mine. London’s mine! Her hand trembled as it met her mouth. I wish Mom were awake. I wish Ben wasn’t being weird. Shit! I really need to tell someone…Pip! I’ll Skype her…
She answered right away, a wet towel twisted into a beehive atop her head. “Hey! Sorry I didn’t answer your text earlier—I was elbow-deep in glue and feathers most of the day! Great news about your mom, huh? Remission! Thank God!”
“Yeah. Couldn’t have come at a better time.”
Pulling her bathrobe closed, Piper pressed her lips together. “You okay?” She angled closer to her computer screen. “Your face is weird…what’s up?”
“I just found out…I got the London placement.”
“WHAAAAT?!” Piper bounced up and down in her chair, her wet towel wobbling. “Holy shit, Rye! You’ll get to see Ben!”
Riley’s grin slipped. “Well, I’m glad you’re excited…he sure as hell isn’t.”
“He’s not?” Grimacing, Piper halted her Tigger impression. “This is Benjamuffin Fagan, right? Didn’t his brain explode with happiness?”
“Nope. We were FaceTiming this afternoon, before I knew the Elstree thing was mine…I said I might be moving over, and he rattled off these weird excuses why I couldn’t live with him—”
“Oh, Rye!” Wincing, Piper rubbed her forehead. “Did you ask to move in?”
“No, but why didn’t he…you know…offer? If he’s missing me as much as he says—”
“Rye, stop! All this long-distance shit has warped your brain.”
“No, it hasn’t!”
“It has! Look, don’t hate me, but I agree with Ben. I know you shacked up post-op, but it’s wayyy too soon to live together properly. You’ve only been dating for like, eight months or something—and half that time, you’ve been on opposite sides of an ocean.” Piper popped open a box of Pocky; the chocolate-coated sticks were her favorite Japanese snack.
“I know, but—”
“And doesn’t he live in a dump with some girl and her cat?”
Riley pouted. “Yeah, Spencer.”
Piper snapped a cookie stick in half, chewing through her response. “I remember him saying her flat was barely big enough for one person. Rye, it’s cramped as fuck.”
“I can do cramped! I’ve done it for the past four years.”
“But it’s a different story when there’s three of you. Ugh, it’s the worst! Trust me—I’m living that nightmare right now.”
“I thought you liked your roommate and her boyfriend?”
“I do, but we’re constantly stumbling over each other, lining up for the stove when we cook.” Piper swallowed and shook her head. “He eats all my Chef Boyardee, she hogs all the shelf space in the bathroom, and don’t even get me started on sex. It’s a good thing I’m having none because the walls have ears. I feel like I’m in the middle of a three-way every time they do it.”
Hmm, she has a point. “Ben suggested moving in with Alex and Mark because they have a bigger place with a spare room.”
“Ooh, do that! God, imagine bumping into Mark frickin’ Keegan in the hallway after he’s had a shower! Whoopsie…his damp towel slips from his waist—”
“Pip! Stop drooling!” Riley giggled. “But seriously…it’s like Ben wants to keep me at arm’s length.”
“No, it’s like he wants to take his time, not rush into anything. That’s what you should want, too…especially after Josh.”
Ah…shit. She’s scored another one. Riley sighed. “Yeah…”
“I know being long distance has been hard and you miss him, but please don’t read into every little thing he says. To me, it sounds like he’s being honest. There’s no room at the inn—period!” She crunched another Pocky. “Seriously, do you really want to move into that clusterfuck?”
“That’s what Mom said—sorta.”
“You should be glad Ben’s with it enough to realize you wouldn’t be happy there.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Riley checked her phone, wishing there was a message from Ben…just something to back up Piper’s advice.
“So, when are you gonna tell him? I’m surprised you didn’t call and wake him up.”
“I would’ve, but I was still mad at him…”
“Imagine his face when you tell him! Oh, wait! You know what’s even better?! SURPRISE him—in person!”
“What, just show up on his doorstep? Don’t tell him I got the job?”
“YES! I’ve always wanted someone to do that for me.” Piper swooned. “It would be sooo romantic.”
“Not if Spencer answers.”
“Well, surprise him at the market.”
Now THAT would be amazing. Riley sat back, the tension from earlier in the day melting away as a big grin lit up her face.
Sixty-Six
Riley had no time to spill the beans. For the next two weeks, her hours were filled with packing her apartment, training her replacement at the BBC, and spending time with Maggie. Casey helped her move back to Staten Island and, along with Piper, continued a social media guise supporting Riley’s ‘Can’t wait for spring in NYC’ charade. To seal the deal, she had told Ben the morning after their awkward Dairy Queen FaceTime call that the Elstree placement had sadly gone to someone else. He commiserated with her and promised to book his June NYC flights the next month. Operation Fool Fagan was moving along without a hitch.
On the morning of St. Patrick’s Day, their one-year ‘airport’ anniversary, Riley planned to call Ben early before he became ensconced in Irish shenanigans. Maggie was out at a Sunday market, so Riley had plenty of privacy for a FaceTime chat.
“Ben!”
“Happy Paddy’s, love.” Weaving and slurring, Ben held his phone in one hand and a pint of Guinness in the other. It was 6 P.M. UK time and he was already sloppily pissed.
Riley laughed. “Benjamin Fagan, have you been pre-gaming?”
Ben’s arm swayed, so Riley’s view of him did, too. “Yup. Got buzz on at home…” The purple dress shirt he was wearing was crispy ironed, but it had a large wet stain on the front and was unbuttoned mid-chest, showing off a few wisps of dark hair—not Ben’s go-to style at all.
He’s a bit of a mess, but he’s allowed to have some fun. “Who’s out with you?”
Ben wobbled and tripped into someone, spilling most of his pint. “Oh! Sorry, mate, soz.” He leaned to hug his victim, but the guy pushed Ben away and he stumbled backward, fighting to keep his balance. “Oh, well, bollocks to you, ya wanker!”
Yikes. “Ben…?”
He jerked his phone close to his face, blinking wildly like he was trying to clear the fog and focus. “So—hic—ahhh, Riles, where…where are…?” He bumped into another guy and slumped against a wall, staring into the phone. “Whatcha wearin’?”
“Uh, a tank and sweats.” He’s so drunk, he can’t tell. I should’ve lied. “I’m at home. I wish I could be with you, today of all days. Happy Airport Anniversary, Brit boy.”
“Aww. Sweet, sexy Riley. My Ri…” His words spilled out in a slow, thick mumble as he slid down the wall to the floor, landing with a thud on his ass. “I miss kissing you…it hurts, not holding you.” He abandoned his glass on the floor, his chin trembling.
He looks like he might cry. “Ben, are you oka
y?”
“Everything’s SHITE, Riles.” He pulled his knees to his chest. “The course was shite, the—”
“The course? But yesterday you said it went well.”
“Nope. Was pissin’ awful. My dyslex-ya fucked me…”
Oh, shit. Her brow wrinkled. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. What did they say?”
Eyes glazed over, he silently drummed his fingers on his knee, the phone’s camera shaking.
Is he alone? “Ben, who’s there with you? Is Mark there?”
“Somewhere…” He waved the hand holding his phone, giving Riley a woozy view of the wall behind him. “With Alex. I’m sick of lovey-dovey couples, sick of being on my own. It’s BOLLOCKS. Work’s bollocks, Spence’s fuckin’ rat-cat bit me…I don’t blame him…” He winced.
“The cat bit you?”
“It was a bad idea, moving back there…hic…everything’s fuckered. I’m so lonely…”
I’ve never seen him like this. Damn. Should I tell him? It’ll still be a surprise… “Babe, look, everything’s going to be okay. We’ll see each other soon! I’m—”
“I’m a fuckin’ stupid arse who doesn’t deserve anythin’ good, ’specially you…”
Where’s that coming from? She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not true—”
“No, nooo, it is. Riles, I…” His hand pawed through his hair, pulling it off his forehead. “I didn’t mean…it just happened. I didn’t think…” His face crumpled. “Maggie’s gonna hate me.”
Why would Mom hate you? “Ben—?”
“Forgive me?” His hand released and his hair fell forward, messy. “Please…? Riley, I’m sorry. I am…”
Forgive?! Riley’s heart tripped. “Forgive…what?” What did you do, Ben Fagan?
His bloodshot eyes opened wide as he spotted someone in the crowd.
“Ben? You don’t look so hot…” A familiar American accent cut through the pub’s ambience. Alex squatted down and squinted into his phone’s screen. “Riley! Hey!” She lifted Ben’s hand, raising his phone higher so Riley could see them both.
Thank God he’s not alone. “Hi Alex. I’m happy to see you!”
Alex nodded and side-eyed Ben, concern creeping into her sunny smile. “I’m gonna get Mark.”
Ben flinched. “I don’t need Keegs…”
“Well, I do. We’re going home, and you’re coming with us, mister.” Alex looked at her buzzing phone. “Shit. Spencer…”
“Spence?! Where?” Ben’s hand shakily swept his hair from his eyes again as he looked beyond his phone.
“She wants me in the toilets now.” Alex bit her lip. “But I’ll get Mark first. Wait here.” Rubbing Ben’s arm, she turned to Riley. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll look after him.” She ruffled Ben’s hair sympathetically and stood up, disappearing from view.
Alex is friends with Spencer. Mark is friends with Ben. Alex and Mark, Spencer and Ben—great. Sounds real cozy.
“Riles, you gonna hate me…I haven’t…” He picked at the tear in the knee of his jeans. “I should’ve been honest…”
“About what?” Unease grabbed her by the throat. Ben, what the fuck is going on?
“I’m ssssoo sorry, darlin’.” He disappeared from view as he tried to get up, but his phone slipped out of his grip, clattering across the pub floor.
Shit! Riley felt sick. “BEN?!”
A passing boot kicked his phone, spinning it several times until it smacked against the gum-scarred leg of a metal table. The impact killed the picture and sound, pushing Riley into a panic.
I need to know what’s going on! Tears of worry and frustration stung her eyes.
She texted Alex and waited.
Hours later, slouched on Alex and Mark’s sofa with an empty coffee cup on the table in front of him, Ben hid beneath his hands, his head still spinning. I’ve been so stupid…
Alex gave Mark a worried look. “Riley sent me three texts. I told her Ben was here and had been sick a few times but was resting now. Should I say anything else?”
“It’s not up to us, Lex.” Mark shook his head. “Christ, he looks rough.” He set down a glass of water for his friend. “Mate, you gotta be honest with her.”
Sixty-Seven
Sitting in Casey’s dorm room in front of his laptop, Riley recounted the previous night’s St. Patrick’s drunken debacle to her best friends. It was 4 P.M. on the west coast, so Piper had slipped out of Monday afternoon puppet production to grab some gum and join the chat. She leaned against a palm tree in the glorious Los Angeles sunshine. “London, Rye—LONDON! You’ll be there in TWO DAYS! I’m so freakin’ jealous!”
“Don’t even start on the London envy,” said Casey, sipping from a Starbucks cup that held an unusually simple venti white mocha with almond milk. “At least I’ll live vicariously through this one.” He playfully elbowed Riley, who sat to his left with an untouched Insomnia peanut butter cookie in front of her.
“How’s Maggie holding up?” asked Piper. “I bet she’d stow away in your luggage if she could.”
“She’s way more excited than I am,” said Riley. “I wish she could come, but it’ll be a while before we can afford any travel.”
“Flight paid for, a shared flat arranged for you near the studio…your rent is gonna be in POUNDS, Rye!” Casey dreamily looked into space and tsked. “I should’ve gone into production instead of documentaries.”
Riley gave him a bittersweet grin.
“You should be doing cartwheels over all this!” Piper snapped her Juicy Fruit. “I wish I could jump through the internet and give Ben’s head a good shake.”
“Yeah, what’s he playing at? He should know he can’t drink like he used to.” Casey broke apart his Snickerdoodle cookie, the three friends maintaining their Monday afternoon ritual one last time, even if it meant Piper was forced to drool from afar. A second box of cookies sat in reserve on Casey’s bed. “Thank God Alex texted last night. At least you know his phone was broken and he’s not lying in a dumpster somewhere.”
“I’m glad he barfed his brains out,” said Piper. “That’ll teach him, hopefully. It’s also karma for making you so upset.”
Riley winced. “I stayed awake last night, waiting for him to call. Ben doesn’t do silent, especially when he’s drunk.” Appetite AWOL, she nudged the peanut butter cookie away. “He was a total wreck. He looked depressed—then he said something about Mom never forgiving him.”
“Fuck…” Swallowing hard, Piper’s shoulders tensed as she glared at a motorcycle thundering past. “He mentioned Maggie? That makes me think he…”
Is Pip thinking what I’ve been thinking? “Mom would only be furious if…” The lump growing in Riley’s throat made her voice raspy. “If he did something that would hurt me.”
“Bastard better not have!” Casey curled his lip.
“I just wish I knew what that something was before I get on the plane tomorrow night.” Riley sniffed. “If we’re breaking up—”
“Rye, don’t even think of not going.”
“Casey’s right,” added Piper. “You can’t bail on that job.”
“No, I want to go, it’s just…the timing’s the worst. What if I end up alone and brokenhearted in London—”
“What broken heart? You’re jumping the gun,” said Casey. “And as for timing—fuck timing. If we waited to do stuff until everything was perfect, we’d never budge. You told me that!”
“I know, but it’s easier to give advice than take it.”
“True enough.” His phone buzzed and he glanced down, a smile warming his face.
Piper swatted away a wasp. “Rye, you’ve spent these last few years living your life for your mom.” Riley opened her mouth to interject, but Piper doubled down. “I know—it was the right thing to do, and you did it out of love—but she’s well now and it’s time for you to ‘fly, my pretty’. I know it’s not Cali, but it’s the next best thing, trust me. England’s awesome.”
“The swimming’s not,” Case
y mused. “Pebbly beaches.”
“Really?” Riley scrunched her nose.
“But that’s no reason not to go! You love him, right?” asked Casey.
“Yeah.”
“Then you should be with him.” Casey sighed. “Look, I have no idea what his drunken speech was about—probably nothing, and if it’s something, you’ll sort it out.”
Piper giggled. “Since when are you offering love advice, Oprah?”
“Uh, since Ben proved he wasn’t a liar—” Casey caught himself. “I mean, since he proved he knew Mark Keegan and he stepped up to save Maggie.” He turned to Riley. “Ben’s crazy about you. You just have to talk to him and be honest with one another.”
“I’m trying to! I can only leave Alex so many messages asking for him to call me.”
“You should talk face to face. Tech is great, but there’s nothing like an in-person conversation.” Casey waved a cookie at his laptop’s camera. “Amiright, Pip Pip Hooray?”
“Argh! Our Monday cookie ritual sucks as a spectator.”
Casey’s phone buzzed a second time and Riley caught a name on the screen.
“Uh, Case…who’s Sophie?”
“Sophie?” asked Piper. “We don’t know a Sophie.”
“Ah, we don’t, but I do.” Casey’s cheeks began to flush.
“Ohmygawd!” Piper screeched. “You had SEX!”
“No, I didn’t!”
“But you want to!” said Piper.
“It’s not like that! Well…maybe.” His cheeks tinged bright pink. “I don’t know!”
“Wait a minu—is that extra box of cookies for her?” Riley sat up. “Do you have a date tonight?”
He scratched his nose. “Yeah…our second.”
“Aw, Case.” Riley gave him a hug.
“When did this start?” asked Piper.
Casey let go of Riley. “I met her in Duane Reade…buying hand sanitizer.”
“Really?” Riley squeezed his arm. “She’s a germophobe, too?”
“Hardly. Sophie’s doing an infectious disease fellowship at the Langone Medical Center.”
Until The Last Star Fades Page 40