“I didn’t even start this whole thing, Katherine. It wasn’t my idea. This story is kind of confusing, but I’ll try to make sense. That assistant journalist guy, Daniel, who was here with People magazine overheard all kinds of things you were saying that day to me. And they didn’t come off so well. He even recorded stuff you were saying on his phone. Well, his day job is at the Post. My best friend Ava works at Cosmo. Daniel used to work at Cosmo, and he and Ava are friends. Ava and Daniel had lunch a few days after the People interview, and Daniel told Ava all about how you were acting toward your assistant during the interview. Ava told him that I, her best friend, was your assistant. Daniel said he was going to write an exposé about you for the Post and asked Ava if she would ask me if I would give him information about you. I immediately said no, of course. I would never do something like that to you. You’d always been so good to me. But then I found out about what you told Ash. And that you had lied to me. And that was a couple days after you were crying in your office and admitted to me that things were so bad with you. Plus, my mom’s neighbor told me that what you were doing was making women feel so badly. And I was just so mad. Madder than I ever remember feeling. And in the absolute heat of that anger, I fed Daniel some information. I immediately regretted it the next day and as soon as I woke up I called Daniel to tell him to not use anything I had said. I didn’t even know at that point that this was going to be a big story. I didn’t realize he had other sources. I thought it was just me. But it was too late. Not only was it already in the Post, but he distorted the things I did say, and added all sorts of things that I didn’t say.” I am speaking so fast, not making entire sense, trying to get it all in. I take a deep breath and wait for Katherine or Theo to speak. They don’t. I can barely meet their eyes.
“But, Lucy, giving information to the Post?” Theo asks, accusingly.
“Haven’t you ever done anything wrong in your life, Theo?” I ask.
“Yes, yes I have,” Theo says.
“I feel so badly about the whole thing, Katherine. I know what I did is wrong and awful and I’ve never done anything like that before in my life and I am disgusted with myself that I even had the capacity to do it. I take full responsibility for what I did and I’m so, so sorry. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.”
There’s silence for a moment. I’m still looking down. Waiting.
“Well, that’s good then, because I don’t think I ever will,” Katherine says.
“Kath,” Theo says to her softly, his tone implying that she shouldn’t have said that.
“What, Theo?” Katherine asks. “What?”
Theo doesn’t say anything and the two of them look at me. I look down at the flame dancing in the wooden wick. I want to run out of that fancy library. But I feel like a child who needs to wait for permission to be dismissed from the table.
“You do realize that you ruined my life, right?” Katherine asks, staring at me. “Because of you my career, my reputation, my livelihood . . . they’re all in complete jeopardy.”
I look up and catch her eye. This is all too much. But I deserve every ounce of it.
“I know, Katherine. And I’m so sorry. I really don’t know what else to say. Maybe I can write an article and get it posted somewhere admitting that I was the Green Goddess source, and what I said was untrue.”
“But it doesn’t even matter anymore. Don’t you realize that?” she asks, her voice filled with rancor. “That article and its veracity are completely irrelevant at this point. I already gave that speech. I already admitted everything. That I am a fraud,” she says, spitting out that last word. “So your apologizing or your coming out with some heroic public apology won’t change anything, Lucy. The fact is that you did it in the first place. The fact is that you started this whole thing in motion and none of it would have happened if you had kept your mouth shut. God! I can’t believe this!”
Theo stands up. “Lucy, why don’t you come with me?”
I stand up and follow him out of the library. I’m practically shaking. I’ve never felt so horribly in my entire life. Theo walks toward the front door, and I trail behind him.
“Listen, let me talk to her,” he says softly, opening the front door.
“You might as well not even bother,” I say. “It’s not going to change anything. She’s absolutely right. I’m an awful, horrible person and I ruined her life. I wouldn’t forgive me either.”
“Well, let me talk to her. I don’t know what will come out of it, but she’s really angry right now and you don’t need to sit there and get all that dumped on you. We can talk about it again when she’s had some time to let it all sink in.” Theo moves aside so I can leave.
“Thanks, Theo,” I say walking out the door.
“You got it, slugger. I owe you one.”
“That’s for sure,” I say snidely. “You know I almost told her about you this morning. I think she deserves to know.”
“You’re right,” he says, looking behind him to make sure Katherine’s not there. “I have been thinking about it and I agree with you. She does deserve to know. But Lucy, goddamn it,” he says angrily, gritting his teeth, “she deserves to know from me. I think you’ve done enough for now, so please, let me handle this. I will tell her.”
“Okay, Theo. Okay,” I say and I see him visibly calm down. “You’re right. She does deserve to hear it from you. And I realize it’s not the best time right now.”
“I will tell her, Lucy. Just give me a little time,” he says agitated.
I leave, the apartment door closing heavily behind me. When I’m back out on the street, I text Nick.
Lucy: On my way home. Worse than expected. She knows.
Nick: So sorry. I’m at your place. Want me to meet you somewhere?
Lucy: No. Going to walk home. Give me time to think. I’ll be there in 20 min. Don’t go anywhere.
I decide to walk up Central Park West toward Eighty-Third Street. There are throngs of people walking by me quickly, on their way home after a long New York City day at work. I’ve always liked sitting on benches in the park or at a bus stop and watching these New Yorkers and their dogged purposefulness. And I’ve always liked imagining everyone’s story: oh, that guy got a new job and he’s smiling like that because he’s about to go home and tell his pregnant wife that he’ll have a steady paycheck when the baby comes. That woman is heading to her apartment to make her famous lasagna because her husband, the war correspondent, is on his way home and they haven’t been together in months. And so on. I walk by a woman sitting on a bench at a bus stop on Sixty-Eighth Street waiting for the M10. Our eyes meet. I wonder if she’s imagining my story.
My story is so confusing at this point. And so out of control. But what I’m starting to realize, as I replay Katherine’s hateful words, is that she didn’t take any responsibility for the role she played in all this. And I was so flustered in her apartment and so focused on explaining myself that I didn’t even make her answer for what she did. Sure, I did something mean and spiteful. But she did, too! I saw something in her eyes, on her face, when I said that she had lied to me and that one of the assistants had overheard her talking to Ash. So I know she heard me say that. But she didn’t own up to what she did and admit that it was wrong. She just dumped all over me. I realize I deserve her acrimony, but something about that exchange felt off to me.
I’m walking quickly now and mumbling under my breath. People stare at me and I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m so angry. Mike-Tyson-biting-an-ear angry. I turn left on Eighty-Third Street and head toward Columbus. The circus performers on crack are starting up again in my stomach, and I realize that by ruining Katherine’s life, I’ve also done a number on my own, because not only do I not have a job, but I have no hope of ever getting one at Green Goddess. For that matter, any employer who sees the Green Goddess job on my résumé is going to ask for a recommendation from them, maybe even expect some glowing written recommendation from Katherine herself, and what will it say abou
t me when I can’t produce one? So basically I can’t ever get another job anywhere, ever. I guess I could just have a baby and stay home with him or her. Or them.
As I’m tossing that last thought over and over in my head, I unlock the main door on my building and head up the stairs, happy that Nick will be there to make me feel better.
I open the door to my apartment and I immediately see Nick, all dressed up in a suit, sitting at my kitchen table. On the table, all laid out nicely, is a bouquet of red roses in a vase, a box of mini cupcakes, two empty water glasses, an open bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket, and one brand-new bottle each of tequila, vodka, scotch, and gin.
“I didn’t know what you were going to want to drink,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Oh, and we’re going to have to register for glasses. Wine glasses. Booze glasses. Shot glasses. Lots of glasses. These will have to do for now,” he says pointing at the water glasses. He turns more serious. “How did it go?”
“It was a disaster,” I say, sinking into the yellow love seat.
“What happened?” he asks, turning his chair to face me.
“She knows it was me. That’s basically all there is to it. She knows it was me, she hates me, and she will never forgive me. That’s what she said. She said I ruined her life. But she didn’t take any responsibility for what she did, which led to all of this!” I say angrily.
“How did she find out?”
“Brooke found out. I mean, she didn’t exactly say that, but I know that’s how. I’m sure it wasn’t that hard to get the information out of that Daniel.”
I recount our entire conversation. What she said. What I said. What Theo said. What I wish I had said. Nick helps me process what happened, and I start to feel a little better.
“So what happens now?”
“Well, if you weren’t here, I’d take this opportunity to inhale the two pints of ice cream I bought last night. This is nothing a little Chunky Monkey can’t fix,” I say with a sad face.
Nick stands up and opens my freezer. He grabs the two pints of ice cream, puts them on a cookie sheet that I keep in my oven, pulls a spoon out of the drawer, and places it all on my lap.
“Don’t let my being here stop you,” he says, cocking his head toward the side in sympathy.
“You’re the best. You know that?” I say, opening the lid on pint number one.
“Been told,” he says.
“I just feel sick about this whole thing. About what I did to her.”
“I know. And unfortunately that’s something you’re going to have to live with for a while. It sucks, but the guilt will fade with time.”
“I hope so,” I say, filling my spoon with a huge portion of ice cream and stuffing it in my mouth. I take a moment to savor the ice cream’s exceptional therapeutic prowess. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do, Nick. I know this sounds very dramatic, but I don’t know who would give me a job. There’s no way I’m going to get a recommendation from my past employer.”
“Somehow everything will work out, Coop. You could always do some work for me, on my website and all, and then when you apply for a new job, I’ll be your past employer and I’ll write you an unbelievable recommendation.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, holding my next spoonful in midair before stuffing its contents into my mouth. “What would you say?”
“I’d start with how you’re so passionate about everything you do. And then I’d say that you take your tasks very seriously. That you are always concerned with how everyone else on the team is doing and feeling and that you’re very responsive to other people’s needs. That you never leave a task until it’s entirely finished. Hmmm, what else?” Nick asks, rubbing his chin and squinting his eyes.
“How about the fact that I’m very flexible?” I suggest.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. You’re very flexible in the most demanding of situations.”
“Thank you, Nick,” I say, smiling at him.
“For that glowing recommendation?” he asks.
“No, for making me feel better. I mean, don’t give yourself too much credit, I still feel like shit. But talking to you helps a lot. Not nearly as much as this ice cream, though,” I say, smiling.
He comes over to the couch and gives me a kiss. I decide that I’d like to get out of my brain by getting out of my clothes. That maybe the distraction will have a way of making me feel better.
“So about those strenuous activities?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“I’m ready.”
I tell Nick to grab the bottle of champagne and lead him by his finger into my bedroom. I take the bottle out of his hand.
“To us,” I say holding the bottle up.
“To us,” he says.
I take a sip of the champagne and pass the bottle to him. He takes a sip and then puts the bottle on my dresser and sits me down gently on the bed. He starts to kiss me and I feel the little champagne bubbles with my tongue in his mouth. He tastes so good and we kiss more forcefully.
Nick pulls back and stares at me while he unbuttons his shirt. And as he takes it off, I hear myself gasp a little. I have always been so turned on by Nick’s body. He reaches over and pulls my sweater off and puts his hands on my shoulders. I lean forward to kiss him but he keeps me at shoulder distance. He gently leans forward and gives me the most delicate kiss, parting my lips at the last minute with his tongue. He stops, picks the bottle of champagne up off the table, and offers me a sip. I accept and hand the bottle back to him.
He takes a sip and kisses me again. I taste the sweet champagne on his tongue. But again he pulls away. He slowly eases my bra straps off my shoulders, then reaches behind my back and unclasps it entirely. It falls to the floor.
Nick looks in my eyes and then looks down as he cups my breasts in his hands. “You’re so beautiful,” he says and kisses me again. As we’re kissing, he slowly lowers me down on the bed. We stay there for a while, just kissing.
Nick turns his body so he’s resting on his left hip. He watches me as he traces a line with his finger from my left ear to my lips. He leaves his finger on my lips. I kiss the tip of his finger. Then Nick stands up on the side of the bed and takes off his pants. As he’s doing that I shimmy out of mine and drop them on the floor beside me. I get under the covers and pull the sheets down for him on the other side.
I stare at Nick’s naked body before he climbs back into the bed and I’m breathless from how beautiful he is. He gets into the bed and we lie on our sides pressing the fronts of our bodies into each other as we kiss. We stay there for a very long time, feeling each other, touching each other, kissing. At one point our faces are so close, our bodies flat against each other and our hands are grasped together. I feel so safe with Nick. So happy. So loved.
Eventually, we need to be even closer than we already are, and when we finish, we stay there for a long time, the side of Nick’s face resting on my chest, neither one wanting to part with the other. When we separate ourselves, we both lie face up on our pillows looking at the ceiling.
“I hope that wasn’t too strenuous,” I say smiling, turning my head to look at him.
“Nope. Not too strenuous. Perfect, but not too strenuous,” Nick says, smiling at me.
“Well, I guess we’re going to have to keep at it then. To see how strenuous we can get.”
And so we do.
Chapter Twenty-One
I wake up on Tuesday morning confused about what I’m supposed to do. Nick’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he says, walking back into the bedroom to get dressed. His hair is wet and he’s wrapped in a towel from the waist down.
“Good morning. Where are you off to?”
“The office. I mean, my apartment,” he laughs. “I think I should start looking at office space and make this baby official.”
“That’s a great idea, Nick. Speaking of going to the office, do you think I’m supposed to go to work?”
&n
bsp; “I don’t know,” he says, letting the towel drop to the floor as he gets dressed.
“I don’t know, either,” I say, watching him. “I haven’t technically been fired. But I don’t technically have a job either.”
“Is Katherine supposed to be in the office?”
“No. Yesterday she told me it was her last day.”
“So then why don’t you go in and see what happens. At least it’ll give you an opportunity to clear your desk and get your stuff in order.” He gathers his things.
“That makes sense,” I say as I get out of bed and head toward the bathroom.
“I’m gonna run,” Nick says, giving me a kiss on my forehead. “Keep me posted.”
“I will. Thanks, babe. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Coop. Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”
Twenty minutes later, I head down the stairs of my apartment building. I put my headphones in and click on my Sad Lucy playlist. I walk out of the building and turn left, Christina Perri’s “Jar of Hearts” playing in my ears. I jump when I feel someone tapping my shoulder, and I pull my earplugs out of my ears.
“Jeez, Lucy. How loud is your music?”
“Pancho,” I say, startled. “Jesus! You scared me. Why did you do that?” I feel my heart pounding. A million racehorses.
“I was calling your name, but you didn’t hear me. I’m parked in front of your building,” he says turning and gesturing toward the Escalade, which is parked in front of a hydrant.
“My music is loud,” I say, pointing at my headphones.
“Yeah,” he says. “Anyway, I’m here to pick you up.”
“For what?” I ask.
“To go to Katherine’s,” he says, confused.
“To go to Katherine’s what?” I ask, just as confused.
“Her apartment,” he says, in a tone that means I should know what the hell he’s talking about.
“For what?”
“I don’t know, Lucy,” he says, starting to sound a little frustrated with me. “Can you just get in the car before I get a ticket that I can’t afford to pay?”
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