“I guess. The card didn’t say. He just said his gig was up and that he’d be moving on to his next assignment.”
“That’s not all it said,” The Waiter said knowingly.
“That’s all that mattered.” I took his arm and put it around me. Then I leaned back into his chest and stretched my legs out on the bench.
“Can we just sit here until you have to leave? We don’t even have to talk. We can just be.”
He pulled me in closer.
“Yeah, Red. We can just be.”
We sat there for almost an hour. People walked past us. Bicyclists sped by. I pet every single dog that would allow it. And then it was time for him to go. We started walking back.
“Are you gonna grab the subway uptown?” I asked. The Waiter was taking the M60 bus to the airport. He’d already shipped out most of his things to L.A., so all he had with him was his backpack.
“No, I’m gonna catch the M7 up to the gym first. I have to cancel my membership before I go.”
We continued walking. Past The Museum of Natural History. Past the GreenFlea. Just like we did on our first date. The whole time, I kept repeating over and over in my head, you’ll see him in five days, you’ll see him in five days. It was the only thing keeping me from having a full-on breakdown. Before we knew it, we were back at the corner of Amsterdam and 77th.
“This is where you first kissed me.”
“I remember,” he smiled. “You were leaving me. Going back to Hotlanta.”
“Now look who’s leaving,” I said. In the distance, we could see the M7 bus. The tears began to well. There was no stopping them. I didn’t even bother.
“Oh god baby. Please don’t cry.” He leaned down and kissed my entire face, as if he were trying desperately to make the tears disappear.
“I can’t help it,” I blubbered. He put his arms around me and held on tight, his chin resting on top of my head. I sobbed uncontrollably into his chest.
“I love you, Red,” he said. I cried even harder. I could hear the bus approaching. “This is not the end of anything. You know I’m gonna end up back in New York. And I’m gonna see you in five days. Five days, okay?”
“I love you, too. But you have to go or I am going to die right here on this corner.”
He leaned down and kissed me. When he let go, it felt like someone had punched a hole in my chest and all the air in my lungs was escaping. I just stood there on the corner, gasping for air.
I watched him walk away from me, just like I did the first time. The joy I’d felt that day was replaced with a heartache I’d probably never recover from. But I knew I’d made the right decision to let him go.
He stood there across the street, waiting to get on the bus. I yelled out to him.
“Hey Dominic!”
He turned around and looked at me.
“I’ll see you in five days,” I said, holding up five fingers while attempting a smile. He smiled back and blew a kiss right before he stepped onto the bus. And then he was gone.
I watched the bus pull away. Then I waited for the light to change so I could cross over Amsterdam. I looked across the street and saw Lucy and Katie standing on the corner. When the light changed, I ran towards them. They sandwiched me with bear hugs while I cried uncontrollably. They cried with me.
“We got you,” Katie said.
“Yeah, we do,” Lucy agreed.
“How did you guys know I was here?”
“We’ve been stalking you,” Lucy said. “From a distance, of course. Come on. Let’s get you wasted.”
“I look like shit.”
“So do we now,” Katie said.
The three of us walked arm-in-arm toward Broadway.
“I’m not sure I’m up for brunch. Can I just go home and die already?”
“Sure,” Lucy said. “Right after brunch.”
“Do you know how many broken hearts in this city have been soothed by bottomless mimosas?” Katie asked.
Lucy stepped out into the street and hailed a cab. We climbed into the back seat. “Broadway and 111th,” she informed the driver.
I laid my head in Lucy’s lap and cried some more. She stroked my hair. “It’s gonna be okay, Sam. I promise.”
We arrived at The Heights and the three of us climbed the stairs to the second-floor entrance. As soon as I walked in, I noticed a familiar face sitting in the corner. It was Dana.
“We called for backup,” Lucy said. I immediately bursts into tears and ran into Dana’s open arms.
“How are you here?” I said, sobbing on her shoulder.
“How could I not be here? Come, sit. I have a pitcher of mimosas ready and waiting.”
I sat down and tried to wipe my eyes as Dana hugged Lucy and Katie.
Dana looked at me. “How are you, babe?”
“Dead inside. Other than that, I’m pretty good.”
The three of them smiled at me.
“It just sucks, guys,” I said. “This just sucks so much!”
“Yeah, it does,” Dana agreed. “There’s no denying the suck factor.”
The waitress came over and took our order. I wanted blueberry pancakes.
“Dana, how long are you in town?” I asked.
“Until Wednesday. I actually have a job interview tomorrow.”
“Oh my god!” I squealed. “Are you serious?”
“Well, it’s not really a formal interview. It’s just a meeting with a person who could potentially give me a job.”
“Where?”
“Time Out New York.”
“I read that every day!” Katie said. “It’s like the Bible for what’s happening in the city. And oh my god, if you worked there, you would get free tickets to everything.”
“Well, my boss in Atlanta is friends with one of the editors, and when I told her I might be thinking about moving, she mentioned Time Out.”
“Wait,” Lucy said. “Your boss is trying to help you find another job?”
“She’s moving to Chicago in a couple of months. I love her. She’s my mentor.”
“If you moved here, my life would be complete,” I said.
“Well, apparently Time Out is always looking for really good PR people. And there are no PR people as good as me, so there’s that.”
“What about Simon?” Katie asked.
“Simon would move to New York in a fucking heartbeat. Are you kidding?”
“My life is made,” I said. “My life is made right now.”
A little while later, the waitress was back with our food. She put the plate of blueberry pancakes with fresh whipped cream down in front of me. They smelled like heaven. And I felt like I’d just had a divine intervention. The fact that Dana was sitting next to me and the thought of her and Simon moving to the city was a bright spot in a dark day.
“Where are you staying?” I asked her.
“With you, of course,” she laughed. “My stuff is at Josh and Katie’s. Josh met me at the airport this morning.”
“How long did you guys have this planned?”
“A couple of weeks,” Lucy responded. “We knew this day was going to be tough for you.”
“I love you guys so much.” I started crying again. “I assure you, these are happy, grateful tears.”
“Well, I think Mr. Obvious over there would be happy to come over and wipe those tears,” Dana said, motioning over to the bar. “That guy’s been staring at you ever since you walked in.”
I looked over at the bar. There was a relatively attractive man sitting there, and he was indeed staring at me.
“Not interested,” I said. I then proceeded to stuff a huge forkful of pancakes into my mouth.
“Yeah, he’s totally not your type,” Katie said.
“My only type is Dominic,” I replied, speaking with my mouth full.
“Remember when you thought your only type was Dalton?” Dana asked.
“I’m eating here, Dana. Don’t make me puke blueberries on you.”
“Well,” Lucy
said, “eventually, you’re going to see other people.”
“I’m seeing other people right now. I see you and I see Katie and I see Dana. See?”
“Very funny,” Lucy laughed. “It’ll take some time, but someday you’ll be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“For all those firsts. The first look. The first date. The first kiss. I mean, I love my husband more than anything in the world. But sometimes it makes me sad that we won’t get to experience our first kiss again.”
“I want my first kiss with Dominic to be my last first kiss.”
“You say that now,” Dana said, “But believe me. One day, some really cute, really sexy guy is going to smile at you, just like Dominic did, and you’ll smile back. You won’t be able to help yourself.”
“And then what?”
“Then it goes wherever the universe wants it to go. I think eventually you and Dominic will be back together here in New York.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do. But here’s the thing, Sam. There are a lot of exciting moments to be had between now and eventually. Do you really want to miss out on all the moments in between?”
I thought about it for a second.
“No, I don’t.”
“Of course you don’t,” she said. “I’m just saying, give yourself time to heal, but then you need to go out there and grab those moments.”
Katie held up her mimosa.
“To grabbing the moments in between.”
The four of us clinked our glasses together. To the moments in between.
CHAPTER 39
◆◆◆
Three weeks after Dominic moved to California, I was home on a Saturday afternoon, doing what I always do on Saturday afternoons. Cleaning my apartment. In two days, it would be the first official day of Spring and I felt the need to spruce things up a bit.
A lot of his things were still in the apartment, and I found that comforting. At any moment, I could open “his” closet and climb inside one of his coats, sweaters, or his Mark Messier jersey. He’d also left the big television in the living room along with a fancy stereo system. His new apartment already had both. I made him leave a bottle of his Aveda hair gel because it smelled like him. It was on my bedside table.
We’d fallen into a new routine. He would call me in the morning when he woke up, which was usually around ten my time. I’d call him in the evening before I went to bed, which was usually around eight his time. And there were always random ICQ chats and funny messages throughout the day. He would be back for a visit at the end of the month. This would be the longest period of time we’d gone without seeing each other. Four weeks. I was doing everything possible to keep myself busy.
I went down to the basement and started a load of laundry. I stopped and picked up my mail in the lobby on the way back up. There was a thank-you card from George. He had an apartment-warming party last weekend and I’d gotten him an antique mirror from the GreenFlea. It looked exactly like the one the queen from Cinderella used to ask who was the fairest of them all. He loved it. I also gave him a framed photo of all of us from the night we went to Potion and danced to Prince. I think he liked that even more because Dominic was in the photo looking all sexy, which was the way Dominic normally looked. Being back in Dominic’s apartment, even though George had completely redecorated, made me miss him so much I could barely breathe. Jackie was there, and she noticed.
“Sam,” she said to me that night. “I know that was a hard decision to make. But it was the right one. You can never give up your career for a man, no matter how much you love him. Trust me, I know. And the fact that you wouldn’t let him give up his career for you, really shows how much you love him.”
“Thanks, Jackie.”
“And you know, there’s a lot of fashion happening in L.A. We should probably be covering more of it. I might have to send you out there from time to time. If you don’t mind that long-ass flight.”
I smiled at her. “Jackie, you’re the best boss I’ve ever had. I mean that.”
“And you’re the best Editor-in-Chief I’ve ever had,” she replied, hugging me. “Of course, you’re the only Editor-in-Chief I’ve ever had, but still.”
I put George’s thank-you card on the refrigerator with a calendar magnet from Peking Garden. My mobile phone rang. It was an “out of area” number. I answered, thinking it must be Dominic again. I’d already talked to him earlier this morning.
“Hey stranger.” Hearing Dalton’s voice on the other end of the phone startled me.
“How did you get my number?”
“I have ways.” That startled me even more. I’d gotten a new cell phone and a New York number shortly after I left Dalton. And now he had it.
“What do you want?”
“To say goodbye, Sam. I’m starting my new job on April third.”
“Oh.”
“Meet me for dinner tonight, so I can say goodbye in person.”
“Not a good idea, Dalton.”
“Why? You got plans with pretty boy?”
If he only knew how much I wished I had plans with Dominic tonight.
“Just not a good idea.”
“Come on, Sam. We both need closure. There are a lot of things I need to say to you. And I need to say them in person.”
“Fine. For closure. And for drinks. Not dinner.”
“Fine. Eight o’clock. Atlantic Grill.”
“Ugh,” I said. “How convenient for you.”
The Atlantic Grill was right around the corner from his apartment on the East Side. The apartment I had snuck out of five months ago. I hadn’t been back to the neighborhood since. But I certainly didn’t want him coming over to my side of the park.
“I thought you liked Atlantic Grill,” he said.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you at eight.”
I hung up the phone, knowing full well I’d just made a huge mistake. Sure, I wanted closure. But what I really wanted was revenge. I wanted to sit across from Dalton looking sexier than I’d ever looked before and watch it happen. To see the look on his face when he finally realizes that after all the lies, all the cheating, all the emotional bludgeoning I’d put up with for the last decade, I’m over him. One-hundred percent completely and totally over him. I was glad he was leaving New York. I would never have to worry about running into him again.
I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the apartment and finishing up my laundry. At seven-thirty, I was in a cab headed to the East Side. I was wearing a black and white zebra-print Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress with my black Kenneth Cole boots and a bright green wool coat. And of course, my Chanel bag. When I got to the restaurant, Dalton wasn’t there. How typical.
I grabbed a stool at the bar and ordered my usual. As soon as the bartender sat my martini down in front of me, someone sat down right next to me.
“Any chance I could buy that drink for you?”
I turned, expecting to see Dalton, but it wasn’t. It was just some guy I’d never seen before.
“Thanks,” I replied, “but I’m good.”
“You’re good alright. You’re fucking gorgeous. Excuse my French.”
“Fuck isn’t French,” I replied. “But thank you.”
“Hi,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m John.”
“I’m Sam,” I replied, shaking his hand. “And I’m kinda meeting someone here.”
“Well, can I keep you company until he gets here?”
“He is here actually.” Dalton was standing right behind John, towering over him and smiling down at me.
John turned around and looked up at Dalton.
“Oh, sorry man,” he said as he slithered off the barstool. “I was just keeping your girlfriend company here.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I said, taking a sip of my martini.
“Well then, that’s definitely his loss,” John said before disappearing into the crowd.
Dalton plopped down on the barstool, shaking his head and laug
hing. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
“Hi baby,” he said.
“I’m not your baby either. And isn’t it about time you tried a new cologne? That Eternity shit is nauseating.”
“You used to think it was sexy.”
“I used to think you were sexy.”
He smiled at me. Motherfucker. He was still sexy. He’d always be sexy. But it didn’t matter anymore. I still felt nothing. Except annoyed. And, based on the way he was looking at me, vindicated.
“You look incredible, Sam.”
“Thanks.” I took another sip. “Aren’t you drinking?”
“Yeah, sure.” He ordered a scotch. “Remember the last time we were here?”
“Yeah. We sat right over there. And we were fighting. We’d been fighting all day.”
“Had we?”
“Yep. I remember thinking that you and I should never go out to dinner in Manhattan because we were always fighting, and I was always too upset to finish eating my really expensive meal. Seemed like such a waste.”
He smirked.
“How are things with you and pretty boy?”
“He has a name, Dalton. It’s Dominic.”
“That’s a pussy name.”
“Speaking of pussy. How are things with you and Rhonda?”
“Over.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.” It came out as a hiss. Exactly the way it was intended.
“Look, Sam, I’m sorry I did that to you. I’m sorry I brought her to The Parlour and I’m sorry I cheated on you.”
“Which time?”
“All of them.”
I was stunned that he had given me an honest answer. And speechless. For the first time since I’d known him, he actually looked uncomfortable. He quickly changed the subject.
“So, did you get the flowers I sent you last month?”
“I did. They were beautiful. But you shouldn’t have sent them.”
On Valentine’s Day, I had gotten flowers from both Dominic and Dalton. Around ten o’clock that morning, George came walking over to my desk carrying the biggest bouquet of red roses I’d ever seen. The card said, Red for my Red. I love you more than anything. An hour later, George returned with a somewhat smaller bouquet of white roses with a card that simply said, I’m still a dick. I’m still sorry. And I still love you.
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