Loving My Best Friend

by Reid, Roxy

  “Sure,” she says. “Go ahead.”

  I close her office door so no one can overhear us. “When you first told your husband you were pregnant, was he over-the-moon excited? Like you always see in the movies and on social media?”

  She smiles fondly. “Oh, he was a million times worse. He was so excited. I thought I knew all that man’s emotions, but I’d never seen him like that.”

  “Oh,” I nod, trying not to show how crestfallen I feel. “That makes sense. Who wouldn’t be thrilled to start a family?”

  Jack, you asshole.

  I reach to open the door.

  “I was the one with doubts,” Makeda says, and I freeze. “Of course, we were trying for a baby, but it took my sister years to get pregnant, so I figured I had more time. Suddenly, there it was. This thing that would change everything. My career, my body, my marriage, my friendships. Everything.”

  “How did you get over them?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t any one moment. I think it was just all the little things you do with your partner to get ready. Buying baby clothes. Setting up the nursery. Ultrasounds. The way all your friends who are moms flock around you to say, ‘You’ve got this. You’ll be fine.’ Does that answer your question?”

  I nod slowly, my heart beginning to speed up. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it does. Thank you.”

  Makeda’s eyes flick toward Jack’s office again. “I will say, I wanted a kid, so I didn’t have far to go. I don’t think pregnancy will magically make someone who doesn’t want kids want kids.”

  “We want kids,” I say firmly, then bite my lip, realizing what I just admitted to Jack’s employee.

  “Ah. Well, in that case, all I can say is everyone’s journey is different, but I’m very happy with how my own turned out. I read somewhere that pregnancy is nine months because it gives us time to sort out all our emotions before the baby comes. I normally don’t like ideas that trite, but …” She lifts one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “I liked that one.”

  I smile tentatively. “Yeah. I like that one, too.”

  I open the door and go to tell Jack I’m officially done working for him.

  * * *

  When I come into his office, Jack’s on the phone with someone. “Yes, I need it delivered today. Yes, I need it delivered there. Yes, I know it’s inconvenient, and that’s why I said I’m willing to pay any additional fees …”

  Jack trails off when he looks up and sees me. Normally, his desk is tidy, but today, it’s a mess. Blueprints and restaurant reports and something that looks like a cost estimate for something.

  Our eyes meet, and my stomach flips.

  “Look, you have my credit card. Make it happen. Today.” He hangs up the phone, and we stare at each other.

  I swallow. Why is my throat so dry? “I didn’t mean to cut you off—”

  “You didn’t.”

  “It’s just my last day—”

  “I know.”

  “I wanted to say goodbye.”

  Jack cracks a smile. “Well. That sounds very final and dramatic for someone who’s still living in my apartment.”

  I hesitate. “About that. We should make a plan. You should come home—”

  Jack stills.

  “—and I should move out.”

  Jack looks at me. “Whatever you want, Eva,” he says softly.

  Oh God. What if I’m making a huge mistake?

  But what if I’m not making a huge mistake? What if Jack and I are very different people who would have been a disaster long-term? What if, in all these years of wanting him, I’ve built him up into something he’s not?

  I bite my lip. I want to blurt out all of these what-ifs out loud. Lay them at Jack’s feet, so he can pick through them and give me some answers. I want to say, what if I don’t want to move out?

  That’s not fair to him, though. It’s fine to ask him to respect what I want, but I can’t keep changing what I say I want. Not when he kissed me under an orange tree and promised he’d love me forever.

  Oh God. I need space. I need to think.

  “I need to go,” I say. “Makeda’s back in her office. Call me if you need anything.” I turn to go.

  “Wait,” Jack says, and I freeze. His voice is so urgent, I half expect to see him down on one knee when I turn around, begging me to say.

  He’s just leaning over the desk to hand me a folder, though. “We finally settled on the plans for the upstate hotel. I made a copy for you, in case you want to take a look. I thought you might be curious.”

  Oh. That.

  Suddenly, my throat is painfully tight. Maybe he just got caught up in the moment in Greece. Maybe the pregnancy, and the way I lashed out at him, snapped him to his senses.

  Maybe it doesn’t matter if I was too hasty because now it’s too late.

  Jack’s still holding out the folder, waiting for me to take it.

  I reach out and take the folder. “Thanks. I’ll read it later.”

  He gets a weird look on his face. “You should read it today. You know, in case you’ve got any feedback. Time-sensitive.”

  “I thought your decision was already made?”

  “It is. I just … right. Well. Anyway.” He holds out his hand. “Thanks for helping out around here.”

  We shake hands, and it’s ridiculous that I ever thought of Jack as just a friend. It’s just a handshake, but his hand feels hot and electric against mine. I fight the urge to use the handshake to yank him down to my level and kiss him with everything I have.

  Instead, I let him go. I step back. I hold up the folder. “Thanks for this. I’ll read it on the subway. I’m meeting up with Tracy for lunch.”

  “Sounds fun,” he says with a smile, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks like, well, like a man who just let the woman he loves walk out the door with nothing but an office folder to remember him by.

  Stop being so dramatic, I scold myself. He’s just busy, and you’re lingering in his office like some kind of obsessed ex-girlfriend.

  I give a quick wave and back out the door, not trusting myself to say more.

  When his office door is open, Jack has a view straight to the elevator. He doesn’t take his eyes off me until the elevator doors shut.

  * * *

  I’m on the subway, a few stops away from where I’m meeting Tracy, when I remember the folder in my hands. I open it with a sort of morbid curiosity. Did Jack stick to his gut and go for the glamorous ballroom? Or did he bow to practicality and slice it up for the good of the company?

  I flip past plans for the rest of the redesign until I find the part about the ballroom.

  My heart stops.

  It’s not a ballroom, and it’s not conference rooms.

  It’s a family-friendly restaurant. There’s a gloriously huge kid’s play castle in the center of the room and scattered around the room are potted orange trees. The castle and the trees make the space fun and magical instead of vast and empty. The lowered price point of a family restaurant will make it appealing to people in the community as well as hotel guests. He’s got a list of several up and coming chefs to reach out to, who have their own young families and might be willing to leave New York if Jack can offer them good, stable hours in a low-cost town with good schools.

  I lower the papers, my hands shaking. I can’t believe it. Jack found a way to take the ordinary, everyday world of kids and parenthood and make it fit with his own glamorous world of Rose Hotels. He found a way to make it practical and magical.

  Why did I ever doubt him?

  My eyes are blurring with tears when I notice a note Jack scrawled on the back page of the plans.

  Eva,

  I love you with all my heart. I love our future together, whether it’s as friends, parents, or lovers. But if it’s up to me, our future isn’t just one of those things. It’s all of them.

  I couldn’t stop thinking of our kid when I was making these plans. Do you think they’ll be excited to try the slide on the
castle? Or do you think it will be too high, and they’ll need you to ride down with them, while I wait at the bottom to catch you both.

  Sorry, off-topic. You’re about to come in, so I’m writing this quickly. What I mean to say is, I will do everything I can to make this work if you let me. So, if you’re willing to give me the chance, I’d like to try that conversation under the orange tree again. Meet me there tonight.

  If you don’t come, I understand. You’ve given me lots of chances. I get it if this is one too many. I promise I’ll never bring it up again.

  If you have even the slightest doubt about ending us, meet me there, would you? I think I can get it right this time.

  Love,

  Jack

  I read the note. Then I read it again. Then it feels like my heart starts beating again. I didn’t wait too long. I didn’t screw this up. The subway doors open, and mixed in with normal station noise, there’s a busker playing a love song.

  The world feels bright and sunny. How is it possible to feel like the sun is shining on your face when you’re dozens of feet underground?

  Of course I’m going to Jack. Of course I’m going to meet him. I just need to get to …

  Shit, Greece? Tonight?

  Fucking billionaires. How the hell does he think I’m going to get to Greece?

  I realize he can’t mean Greece. He was in his office an hour ago. He’d have no time to get there. So, where the hell is this orange tree he wants to meet under? My eyes fall on the plans.

  Of course. He’s talking about the hotel. The hotel in upstate New York. The hotel he said he bought partly because it was accessible by train. There’s a chime to signal the subway doors are closing. I look up and realize I’m at Penn Station.

  Shit.

  This is where I transfer to catch a train upstate.

  I bolt for the door, papers flying around me, but I hold tight to the final page with Jack’s note. I make it out just in time. I race out of the subway part of the station and over to where they sell train tickets to upstate.

  I’m making it to that orange tree if it’s the last thing I do.

  Then I’m going to have a stern conversation with Jack about remembering I don’t have a fucking car the next time he plans a big romantic gesture.

  The next time.

  There’s going to be a next time. If he says what I think he’s going to say.

  I buy a ticket upstate, call Tracy to apologize for canceling on her, and then I board a train to take me to my future.

  26

  Jack

  Here’s the truth, Eva. You asked how I’ve been doing since you moved out to California. Here’s the truth. I miss you so much. I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. Everyone is stupid. No one is you. I hate it. I fucking hate it so much. But I can’t tell you that because you just sent me an email saying that you’re really happy. That you like the palm trees, and that guy thinks you have a great singing voice. (He’s definitely hitting on you. You have a horrible singing voice.)

  So, I’m not going to send this email. Instead, I’ll write another one and tell you Honors Biology is boring without you, and Molly Alvarez asked me to prom.

  —Jack McBride, email draft, junior year of high school, never sent

  I pull up in front of the upstate hotel in time to watch the gardening company I contacted unload one single potted orange tree. I wanted to buy a whole forest of them, but it turns out there are limits on how quickly you can get orange trees to upstate New York that have nothing to do with money and everything to do with the fact that there are not all that many orange trees for sale within a day’s drive of this hotel.

  I unlock the hotel door, and the workers carry the tree to the ballroom. They give me a list of instructions on how to take care of it. Then they leave, and it’s just me and an orange tree in an empty ballroom, waiting for Eva.

  Slowly, the sheer insanity of my plan sinks in. Why did I do this today? Why couldn’t I wait a few days to get more trees so my grand gesture could be a little more … grand?

  And why did I put that now-or-never time limit on it? What if she doesn’t even read the folder until tonight? Until a week from now? Or worse, what if she does read it and decides this is too far away to go just to hear me apologize.

  I should have picked a location that was easier to get to. Like my apartment. I should have just shown up at the apartment.

  Except, you need her to choose you, and you need to leave her room to say no.

  I take a deep breath. I look at my watch.

  Maybe I can call Tracy? Just to see if Eva mentioned anything at their lunch. But when I check my cell phone, there are no bars. Right. I forgot. A charming break from the city. That’s what the plan was for this place. I look at my watch again. Three o’clock.

  Meet me tonight is pretty vague, I realize. She could think I mean any time between now and midnight.

  Note to self—be more specific when communicating start times for future big romantic gestures.

  Then I have a sobering thought. What if this is the last big romantic gesture I get to do for Eva? What if, after this, I’m back to giving her one perfect birthday present a year and hoping that’s enough for her to understand how much I care?

  Don’t think about that, I tell myself. Don’t think about the future. Just think about what you’re going to say when she gets here.

  I check my watch again and start to pace. It’s going to be a long night.

  * * *

  “Jack?” Eva says. I turn to her, jolted out of my reverie.

  Eva’s here. She came. My heart is pounding like mad. There’s hope.

  Eva’s standing in the doorway to the ballroom, looking tentative. Her eyes sweep over the ballroom, taking in the way the setting sun is lighting up the stained-glass windows and turning everything in the room radiant colors. Taking in the candles I’ve lit around the room, some of which have already burned down to nothing while I waited for her. Candles are easier to get a hold of than orange trees.

  Finally, her eyes land on the tree. “So, I was right,” she says softly.

  “Right?” I ask.

  “You definitely meant for me to meet you here. Not in Greece.”

  “Why would I want to meet you in … oh.” I think through the hasty note I wrote to her. It had seemed so obvious to me. “I might need to work on my grand gestures,” I admit.

  Eva takes another step into the room. “I don’t know, Jack. This one is—” She breaks off and looks at me. “You might be better at this than you think.”

  My eyes drink her in like it’s the first time I’m seeing her. Or like I might never see her again. She’s so beautiful that I can’t stand it. She’s wearing a dark coat, and her hair is windswept. She’s still in the soft navy dress and high heels she was wearing at the office. Her eyes are bright. Her cheeks are flushed. Her chin is raised in a challenge.

  My ring’s still on her finger.

  I know I shouldn’t take that as a sign. We were going to go through with the fake marriage, anyway, but as we stand here, alone in this grand ballroom, surrounded by candles and stained glass and the soft scent of an orange tree, it feels like a sign.

  It feels like it’s meant to be. Like my whole life has been leading up to this.

  I go to Eva. I take both her hands in mine and lead her into the room. My heartbeat is out of control, but I feel strangely calm.

  This is it. This is where I win Eva Price, the only woman I’ve ever loved.

  “Eva, there’s so much I want to tell you, but the first thing is that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I wasn’t excited to raise a kid with you or like you couldn’t count on me. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you had to choose between what was best for our kid and the future we could have together.”

  “Jack—”

  “I think I reacted that way because, when it comes to you, I don’t want to miss anything. For all those years, I was scared to make a move because I didn’t want to miss o
ut on lying around together and watching movies with you or being the one you called when you’d had a bad day. It turns out, being in love with you, being in a relationship with you, means I get both. I get to hold you and love you and tell other men to back the fuck off. I get to keep all the friendship stuff.”

  I take a deep breath because this next part is the part I need to get right. “When you said you were pregnant, I thought that meant we were missing out on something. Trading in the fun and magic of a new relationship for the love and excitement of being parents. I thought that to get the second, we’d have to give up the first. I don’t think it has to be one or the other, though.”

  Eva watches me, eyes unreadable, not saying anything.

  Please, God, let this work. I know I’m holding her hands too tightly, but I can’t seem to let go.

  “You said that when I say that I’ll give you anything you want, it’s just a way for me to avoid making decisions.”

  Eva shakes her head. “Jack, that’s not fair. I—”

  “So, I’m telling you what I want, Eva Price. Everything. I want the new relationship. I want the new kid. I want the fun and excitement and magic and love. I also want the dirty diapers and the sleepless nights. I want the days when we lose our temper and snap at each other. I want to pull all-nighters with you, whether that’s because we’re figuring out your next career move, or because our kid is teething, or because we just can’t stop having sex with each other.”

  She laughs at that, but it’s a watery laugh like she’s fighting off tears.

  “I want it all, Evvie. I want it all with you.”

  She lets go of my hands to swipe at her tears. That’s either a really good sign or a really, really bad sign.

  I close the space between us and cup her face gently. “The thing that I want the most, more than anything else, is for you to be happy. I will give up anything, even you, to make that happen. Which is why I’m asking you one final time. What do you want, Evvie?”