24 Sloane
February 2018
Reese smiles at me from across the table and then takes a sip from his wineglass. I move around the lettuce on my plate while he rambles on about new clients. I’m surprised that he hasn’t realized how checked out I’ve been all night.
It’s Valentine’s Day. I’ve never celebrated this day with anyone, except Lauren of course. He made this reservation three months in advance, sent a dozen roses to my office, and was waiting outside of my building when I got off work. I can’t help but feel like I’m betraying him.
Since I found out that Ethan’s my neighbor, I’ve been questioning my relationship with Reese. He has no idea about any of this, because I wanted to give myself time to process it all. It’s been a little over a month, and I still can’t bring myself to tell him. Things with Reese are easy in a way they never were with Ethan. Our relationship is secure and predictable. So why doesn’t it feel like enough?
“After this deal closes, I want to take you out of the city for a weekend,” he says. “We haven’t been on a trip together yet.”
“That would be nice,” I say as I put my napkin over the hardly eaten salad.
“Where should we go? Somewhere warm?”
“Yes! Somewhere with a beach. I miss the beach.”
“Did you not like your food? Order something else,” he offers.
“I’m not that hungry; I had a late lunch.” I hate lying to him.
Reese has become familiar. I’ve gotten used to falling asleep next to him at night. I like the way he smells fresh out of the shower and how it feels when he wraps his arms around me. We spend weeknights ordering in and weekends exploring the city. He gives me the kind of relationship I convinced myself for so long that I wasn’t deserving of.
“I was thinking we could go back to Wilmington. My parents usually spend the spring at our rental in Kure Beach, and I’d really like you to meet them.”
The wine, mixed with my overwhelming sense of shock, causes me to swallow wrong, and I start coughing. I can’t go back to Wilmington with him. I haven’t even been back there myself since graduation. That entire town has Ethan written all over it. It’s where I fell in love for the first and last time.
“Sorry, wrong pipe I guess.” I lift the napkin to my mouth. “That could be fun.”
“Think on it. I’ll go wherever you want.” He smiles and motions for the server to bring the check. “Should we stay at your place tonight? I feel bad that you’ve been coming to mine a lot. Work should slow down soon.”
“We can do yours again; my sheets are still in the dryer.” Here I go again, lying.
I can’t bear the thought of sleeping under the same roof as Ethan with Reese in my bed. Something about it just feels…wrong.
On the few-and-far-between nights that I’ve slept at my own apartment, I’ve lain in bed wondering if he’s staring at the same ceiling fan that I am. It’s like looking at the stars knowing the person you’re missing shares the same sky as you, wondering if when they look up, you come to their mind too.
I just can’t seem to comprehend how this has happened. Over eight million people live in this fucking city, and I wind up living in the same building as the only guy that’s ever broken my heart. How is that possible? At first, I thought maybe it was a sign. Maybe we were meant to be. I quickly realized that sometimes not every coincidence or run-in at the grocery store must mean something. Sometimes, you really do end up in the same place at the same time as someone you don’t want to see by chance. And there are two ways to handle it.
Option one: convince yourself this was on purpose and try to figure out said purpose.
Option two: realize it was a coincidence and continue with your life.
I sleep at Reese’s for the rest of the week to avoid the thought of Ethan. When I’m in this bubble, alone with Reese, things are great. When I’m by myself is when I start to spiral.
***
“Brought you coffee, baby.” I open my eyes to Reese sitting on the edge of his bed, stroking my arm to wake me. “I’ve gotta get to that cycling thing with the guys, but let me know what you get into tonight. We can all meet up.”
He leaves a key on the counter for me, and I roll over in his bed. Sometimes, it feels wrong to be here. To know that he likes me more than I like him. I reach over to the nightstand for my phone as it starts vibrating in my hand.
“Hello?” I answer without looking at who it is.
“I haven’t seen you all week! It feels like I live alone now. Brunch?” Lauren asks. “A few of the girls from my nanny group are meeting in Midtown and added us to the res. Can you be home and ready in an hour?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you in a few.” I hang up and quickly get out of bed.
I brush my teeth with the pink electric toothbrush Reese bought for me, which matches his blue one. I’m wearing one of his T-shirts paired with the leftover mascara that I was too lazy to take off last night. I sigh as I stare at the confused girl who looks back at me in the mirror.
Why can’t I just be content with him? Is love being content with someone? I know that love isn’t settling just because the person you’re with loves you the way you’ve always loved other people. I fully believe that for a relationship to last a lifetime, you both need to be infatuated with each other. And as much as I try, sometimes I worry that I’ll never feel that way about Reese.
Lauren and I walk into brunch less than five minutes late, which is record time for her. Usually, whatever time Lauren says we’re leaving is delayed by at least twenty minutes. That time consists of at least four outfit changes, misplacing her phone or ID, and touching up her makeup. I don’t consider myself a patient person, but with Lauren, I have to be. I don’t mind waiting on her, well, most days anyway.
“Here they are!” one of the girls announces our entrance. “Brunch officially starts now.”
In the city bottomless brunch gets timed. Typically, you have about one and a half to two hours per table, so you can’t sit there all day with a fifty-dollar tab. Servers have to make money somehow, and bottomless brunch and tips from drunk patrons is how they do it. Not even a few minutes into brunch, I get a text from Annie, which is out of character for a Saturday afternoon.
1:07 p.m.
Annie Walker:Hate to ask but any chance you can go to Boston this week to speak on a panel for me? Kids are sick. LMK.
A wave of relief washes over me. I can’t wait for a few days away from the city. I can’t think of a better way to clear my head. I’ve never been to Boston. I’d love to explore the city on my own.
“Who’s that? Reese?” Lauren gushes over him.
“No, it’s work. I have to go to Boston this week to fill in for Annie at a conference.”
“Boo.” She pouts and furrows her eyebrows.
One of the girls interrupts us. “Let’s hit the Lower East Side next! I bet we can find some good live music there.”
We head to the subway after hitting our time limit at brunch. I’ve already had a lot to drink but figure one or two more couldn’t hurt. Besides Lauren and Mila, I don’t have any friends in the city. When we first moved here, I was putting all my effort into work and long distance with Ethan. Once that ended, I was focused on work and getting over Ethan. I wish I realized the importance of making friends in such a big city.
We find a dive bar and spend the next few hours playing darts and listening to cover bands. I’m a few more drinks in when I feel my phone vibrating in my back pocket. I let it go to voicemail and see that I have three unread text messages from him.
7:39 p.m.
Reese Thompson:We’re pregaming Gem in a bit
9:17 p.m.
Reese Thompson:In the back by dance floor
9:45 p.m.
Reese Thompson:Miss you baby
Those texts make me want to take a shot. Something about the amount of alcohol I’m drinking makes me want to think of Ethan and forget about Reese. It’s fucked up, I know. I can’t help it. Before putting my phone away again, I check social media to see if Ethan’s posted any stories today. Nothing. Maybe I should just reach out to him? I’m fighting an internal battle that I know I can’t vocalize to Lauren because she’ll tell me not to text him. Which is exactly what I shouldn’t do.
Yet, I hit send anyway.
***
Less than an hour later, I’m in Ethan’s apartment, which is just a few floors above my own. Stepping inside feels like crossing into a past life—it’s Ascent all over again. I settle on the couch, its worn leather cold against the bare skin of my legs. Even though it’s the height of winter, my favorite going-out outfit combination is a skirt, tights, bodysuit, and tall boots. Thank god for New York City coat checks. I survey his apartment, the mismatched furniture that he probably snagged off the curb, two TVs set up for a football fanatic’s dream, and blank walls that I’m sure will never be filled.
“Want a drink?” Ethan’s voice, calm and familiar, calls out from the kitchen.
“Sure,” I answer, my voice steadier than I feel. My limit was several drinks ago.
“All I’ve got is whiskey,” he says.
I accept the glass and give myself a moment to watch him. He chooses a spot on the opposite end of the sectional—making us feel worlds apart in the tiny universe of his living room. It’s as if he’s respecting the boundaries that have grown between us, yet everything in me leans towards erasing them. I take a sip, and it burns all the way down.
“I’m sorry again, for all of this,” he says, breaking the silence that has settled comfortably around us.
“It’s okay; you didn’t know,” I reassure him, as I always do.
“I mean, I knew you lived in the city. The least I could’ve done was text you.”
“You’re not wrong.” I nod.
“So why’d you text me?” he asks. “Was that all you wanted? An apology and a free drink?”
I hesitate, the truth swirling in my glass. “Can’t answer that.”
“Why not?” He raises an eyebrow.
“This isn’t my first drink tonight, Ethan.” I laugh and playfully wave around my drink until a few drops of whiskey wind up in my lap.
“Alright, alright. Give me that.” He scoots closer and reaches for the glass. For a moment, everything but us falls away.
“No way!” I protest.
I tilt my body away from his, holding the glass as high and as far away from his reach as I can get. Ethan grabs it and places it on the coffee table while positioning his body on top of mine. He’s closer now, his presence a gravitational pull that I’m not sure I want to escape.
“Can I ask you something else then?” he inquires, sitting back a little.
“Sure,” I answer with more of a question than a statement.
He hesitates before continuing. “So…the article.”
A lump starts to form in the back of my throat.
“You had to assume I’d read it. I mean, that’s why you wrote it. Right?” Ethan continues.
“I don’t know.” I sit back onto the couch, hoping to sink in between the cushions and escape this conversation. “It started off as a way to stop myself from reaching out. I wrote to you all the time. In my journal, in the notes app, in texts that I would just backspace. It was like therapy. I didn’t intend to publish it ever, but one day I just decided to pitch it to Annie, and well, I’m glad I did. I just didn’t think that many people, or you, would read it.”
“Yeah…” His voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sloane,” he whispers. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that’s sorry. I’ve hated myself for so long for what I did to you. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know. The sad part is, as much as I tried, I couldn’t hate you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hate you.”
In an instant, his hand grips my thigh, and his face is within inches of mine. My cheeks go flush, and my heart rate quickens. This is what Ethan does to me every time.
“Hi,” I say nervously.
“Hi,” he says into my hair. “Is this okay?”
I remember when I was his and he didn’t have to ask if what he was doing was okay—he could just do it because he knew that I wanted him to. I also remember that now I’m someone else’s. Someone who’s kind. Someone who’s caring. Someone who would never do what Ethan did to me. Someone who loves me.
“No,” I find the strength to say, pulling back from him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I should’ve never come.”
The space between us grows, not just in inches, but in the realization that some distances can’t be measured. The whiskey remains on the table as I stand to leave, the taste of regret and what-ifs lingering on my tongue. I grab my purse and walk towards the front door, waiting for him to tell me to stop. He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. I reach for the handle and still nothing. As it closes behind me, a tear falls down my cheek. How am I back here again? After months of moving on, and I am right back to feeling the same way I did the morning he left for the airport.
I head down the single flight of stairs that lead to my apartment and pull out my phone to call Reese.
“Hey!” he shouts over loud music.
“Can you come over?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Unlock the door; I’m on my way.” He hangs up.
I change into my favorite matching sweat set and freshen up so he can’t tell that I had been crying. As I wipe the mascara from under my eyes, I stare at my reflection in the same way I did this morning and wonder who I’ve become. I’m in love with someone who can’t love me back and has told me that more times than I can count. Reese is sure about me. His feelings for me have never wavered, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I remind myself of that until it’s engrained in me.
“Sloane?” Reese calls out.
“In here!”
He sits on my bed and reaches his arms out, motioning for me to join him. I stand in between his legs and place both of my hands on his shoulders. His hands rest on my waist, and he looks up at me, waiting for me to kiss him. Kissing Reese is different than kissing Ethan. It’s more gentle and less passionate.
I kiss him harder and wait for his mouth to follow. He catches up and slides one hand under the front of my shirt. Then I feel his other move up my back and unclasp my bra before maneuvering it and my sweatshirt off me. Finally, he takes charge. I move from his lap and lie on the bed, wiggling my pants and underwear past my ankles as he leans over to grab a condom from my bedside table. I never used condoms with Ethan, but Reese almost always insists.
Sex with Reese is fine. Just that—fine. Sometimes I think about Ethan while I’m having sex with Reese. It’s fucked up, I know, but I can’t help it. Tonight is one of those times.
I often wonder if I’ll ever feel the things that I felt with Ethan ever again. Is that the kind of love you only get once in your life? I reinsert myself into the present moment right as Reese is about to finish, and I almost wish I hadn’t.
“I love you, baby,” he whispers between breaths.
This is the second time he’s told me without waiting for me to reciprocate it. I grasp his body tighter and lightly dig my teeth into his shoulder to avoid having to respond right away. I need to delay a response for as long as I possibly can.
He pulls back and kisses me before plopping his body next to mine. We lie there for a few minutes before I get up to go to the bathroom.
“Wait, not yet.” He grabs my arm and tries to pull me back towards him.
“I have to pee.”
I apologetically kiss his forearm and search for a shirt to wear before heading to the bathroom. I run the faucet water so Reese can’t hear that I’m not using the bathroom as I stare at myself in the mirror. Partially ashamed but mostly confused.
“You good?” Reese asks as he knocks on the door. I flush the toilet and turn the doorknob to let him in.
“Had to wash my face,” I said, hoping the water had erased more than just the physical traces of a night I’m not too proud of.
“Come to bed,” he says, not a command but a plea wrapped in two words.
He grabs both of my hands and pulls me so that my body is flush with his. His hands then find their way to my hips and then my butt. He hoists me up and carries me the entire twenty steps to my room. I think I could love him. But as we nestle into the warmth of my sheets, the inches between our bodies feel like miles.
“Is there something wrong?” Reese asks.
“No, why would there be?” I’m a little too quick to answer, wondering if he has any idea where I was just an hour ago.
The bed shifts as he turns, the streetlights outside casting stripes across the room, revealing a hint of concern on his face. “I didn’t want to bring this up, but I’ve told you I love you twice now, and you haven’t said it back. I was giving you some time, but I feel like we should talk about it.”
I turn around so that I’m facing him. Even though the room is dark, the streetlights shine through the blinds, allowing us to somewhat see each other’s faces. I don’t know how to answer his question, so I rely on yet another lie.
“Both times have been during sex. I want to say it when I feel it in a different moment.”
“Shit, I’m sorry, baby. I love you all the time, not just during sex.” His hands cradle my face, his thumbs tracing the line of my jaw as he pulls me into a kiss filled with the words I’m not ready to say.
***
“Where should we go for breakfast?” Reese wakes me up by rubbing his fingers over my cheek.
“I’m not that hungry.” It’s true. Since Ethan’s been back, I haven’t had much of an appetite. My anxiety doesn’t let me.
“What if I said I was able to get us reservations at La Mercerie in an hour?” he says.
“Seriously?” The word escapes me in a half whisper, half gasp, as I prop myself up on my elbows.
There’s a playful twinkle in his eye as he responds, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “Go get ready,” he laughs.
We’ve been trying to get a reservation there for weeks now. In college, Reese studied abroad and said that La Mercerie was the closest thing on the East Coast to French bakeries. So of course, I need to make sure he isn’t overexaggerating.
As the elevator doors glide open, a moment I never wanted to experience unfolds in what feels like slow motion. Reese’s hand is warm in mine, until my gaze lifts—and there, like a statue, stands Ethan. The air thickens, and I feel my stomach cramp up. I don’t do well in awkward situations, especially not ones in which I’m lying to someone I care about. I never did find the right time to tell him about my new neighbor.
Our steps are synchronized as we silently pass by Ethan. I’m holding my breath and still holding on to Reese’s hand, hoping that this bout of silence never ends. But silence, much like the truth, is a fragile thing.
Reese’s grip tightens imperceptibly, the edges of his fingers pressing into my skin—a silent indicator of the anger he clearly feels. We step out into the crisp morning, and the city sounds rush to fill the void between us. It’s only when Reese drops my hand and his voice cuts through the air that I realize how upset he truly is.
“Really, Sloane? You’re kidding me, right?” His voice escalates as he opens the car door for me.
“I can expl—”
The interruption comes quickly, his words cutting me off, “I’m not doing this with you. This is fucking pathetic. Why is he here?” He hammers me with questions in the confined space of the Uber.
“Stop.” I nod subtly towards the driver, whose discomfort is palpable.
“Stop trying to distract me from the fact that we just ran into your ex in the building that you live in. Why was he there Sloane?” He’s yelling now.
“I guess your bestie, Blake, didn’t tell you?” I match his tone because now I’m mad too. If it weren’t for Blake, none of us would be in this mess. “He helped Ethan find a place.”
“Shit.” He hangs his head in defeat. “I don’t think Blake knows about you two having history. How long have you known? Why haven’t you told me?”
“I just found out. I ran into him in the lobby a few days ago,” I lie.
Days, weeks, what’s the difference? In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of the driver’s wary eyes, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
Silence settles over us and I focus my eyes on the city as it passes us by. Coffee shops and restaurants we love, corners we’ve kissed on, crosswalks we’ve held hands at. Is this the end of us? If it is, I deserve it, I guess.
“I’m sorry.” He exhales. “I’m probably overreacting. It just felt like a punch to the gut when you said you knew he lived here and didn’t tell me. I hate that I found out like this.”
“I know.” My voice is soft. I place my hand gently on his thigh as a peace offering. “I’m sorry too. I honestly was trying to avoid the thought of him entirely. I didn’t think about how it would make you feel, and I should have.”
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.” He picks my hand up and intertwines his fingers with mine. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“I love you too.”
I finally say it, and I don’t think it’s a lie. The thought of losing him makes me realize that maybe I am falling in love with him. I squeeze his hand, and then he kisses my forehead.
Three words can change so much. Three words can make you completely forgive someone and forget why you were upset with them in the first place. Three words can make you feel like the most important person in the world, and to Reese, I was. I knew that.