Chapter 15
15
“ Fuck me,” Evie moans midchew.
“Isn’t it obscene?”
Yes, the amount of scallion tofu schmear between the freshest, most perfect bagel is obscene. Yes, the detour to Tompkins Square Bagels, Theo’s favorite bagel spot in the East Village, was—despite her initial reluctance—a good decision. Yes, the hour-long train ride from JFK into Manhattan (even though they’re staying in Bushwick) and trekking her suitcase through slush was worth it.
She swallows, then nods. “I am wrecked.”
Theo giggles.
Giggles.
Her hanger fades, and after another bite, she’s giggling, too. Why? She has no clue. Red-eye flights are awful. Airplane bathrooms are a crime against humanity. But right now, she’s eating a god-tier quality bagel. In the East Village. With Theo. Who can’t stop giggling. Who’s so disarming when he’s wearing his glasses. Who she’s married to . It’s all so absurd. The last time they were both in New York she was nineteen. Evie’s been back a handful of times but has always made a point to keep the city at a distance. Stayed at depressing chain hotels in Midtown. Met up with Saskia at whatever overpriced bar her feet could carry her to. Refused to attempt the subway, to explore, to fall. So in the week leading up to this bagel, she’s been on edge, unsure how it would feel to be back in a city she almost had, with the person she almost had it with.
And.
Well, Evie feels so much.
So many exhausted, delirious feelings.
Instead of acknowledging any one of them, she snaps a silly selfie with the bagel and sends it to Saskia.
“Gen?”
“Sass.”
“Oh.”
Since leaving After Ever After , her friendship with Saskia has devolved from daily texts and reviewing whatever they watched over the weekend in memes to an Instagram like, a TikTok link, the occasional DM. Still, Evie is almost positive that if she texts a ? , Saskia will drop a pin to a brunch spot. Evie will wear something tasteful but slutty. Knee-high boots required. Saskia will be ten minutes late and arrive like a tornado, their caramel curls windswept, cheeks as rosy as their lips. Evie will sip on an overpriced matcha and they’ll exchange life updates. I married Theo for his health insurance. It’s the only reason I was able to take the fellowship. And it’ll feel good, to state it plainly. Necessary. Good on you , Saskia will say. They’ll split the bill, then Saskia will excuse themself to use the bathroom. Five minutes later, Evie will join them.
And it’ll feel good.
Her lips on Saskia’s skin.
Their tongue between her legs.
Necessary.
“Did you text Eli?” she asks.
“No.”
“You should!” What’s meant to be a gentle nudge comes out way too enthusiastic. “I mean. I was thinking of seeing if Sass wanted to meet for brunch. So.”
She may as well have said, Why don’t you go get coffee with a friend while I fuck my former coworker?
Theo doesn’t react. He just finishes his bagel, crumples the foil, and licks cream cheese from his fingers, then says, “Maybe I’ll text Caro.”
“Yeah?”
Evie knows that Caroline Shapiro-Huang lives in Harlem. A law student at Barnard, per Instagram. She also knows that Caro is his Saskia. They were never serious, not like Evie and Hanna’s relationship. Except. Caro was also Theo’s prom date, the person who reminded him of home during undergrad, his longest situationship.
Theo’s mouth quirks. “It’d be nice to catch up.”
Translation: I can get laid, too .
And why shouldn’t he? Get laid, too. Really, she should want this for them. Because the last time her tongue tasted skin it was his, the last time lips kissed her they belonged to him, the last time she touched herself she came to images of Theo’s mouth between her thighs. She needs a factory reset to deprogram the way her body reacts to him. She needs space to remind her body, her brain, to not go there . Because of course it’s easy. Living with Theo. Coming home to Theo. Being with Theo.
This marriage is messing with her head.
It’s not real.
She doesn’t want it to be real. Evie blew up her relationship with Hanna, who she loved, who loved her , because she didn’t want to be married. Ever. She lost Hanna. She won’t lose Theo, too. Won’t ruin their friendship for the potential of something more when she knows he’s someone who sees marriage in his future. It’s not fair to him—to either of them, really.
He’s her platonic soulmate.
Platonic.
Theo stands, pulls a beanie over his ears, and tosses her duffel over his shoulder. She bundles up, then follows him to the L, dragging her suitcase. Its wheels leave an imprint. Evie isn’t used to it. The wet slosh of her steps. Walking in shoes with no tread. Cold that whistles with a bite and stings her nose. Theo points out meaningful locations on their way to the train—his first apartment, the independent movie theater that screens foreign films, the elementary school where he student-taught. Evie is mesmerized by the shape of his breath, the warmth in his voice, the shift in his posture. He points to a building where he once saw children selling apples from their kitchen window, the stupidest smile on his face.
She’s never seen this Theo before.
Almost vibrating .
In the science of sound, there’s the phenomenon of resonance. It happens when an object or system is subjected to an external force or vibration that matches its natural frequency. What’s wild is that when this happens, it absorbs energy from the external force and starts vibrating with a larger amplitude. And Evie thinks, for the first time in her life, that she’s witnessing this phenomenon in a person. Theo’s natural frequency matches New York.
New York amplifies him.
“Do you ever think about moving back?” she asks as the train approaches.
Evie doesn’t hear his answer.
Just screeching brakes.
Theo still has people in the city, so they take the train to Bushwick to crash with one of them. Dev Kumar, who lived with Theo in an apartment-style suite during their freshman year at NYU. The roommate she did not hook up with the one and only time she visited. Really! That was Topher. Now Dev is a general surgery resident at NewYork-Presbyterian. He’s at the hospital, so he left a key in a lockbox attached to a window grate outside. Evie assumes that his life is like an episode of Grey’s Anatomy . Dev’s apartment is small but tidy, with a laminate floor and gray walls and stainless-steel appliances. A space that would be described in a listing as “gut renovated.” The second bedroom is big enough to fit a sleeper sofa that pulls out into a double bed and a Peloton that doubles as a drying rack.
Evie removes her shoes, then her socks, which are soaked through. She questions every decision that led to numb toes, so terrified that being here is a mistake, but still hopeful she’ll be happy that she showed up anyway. She can’t wait to tell Jules. Ask, Is this growth? Jules will laugh. So. Even if this entire weekend is a major disappointment… at least it will be a great therapy topic that isn’t about Theo. Unlike the last three.
Four.
Five.
Ugh .
Evie unzips her suitcase, then immediately forgets why she unzipped her suitcase.
“Evelyn?”
She blinks. “Hmm?”
“When are we supposed to be at the synagogue?”
“Shabbat starts at five.”
Avia’s ascent into adulthood begins with the candle lighting at the evening Shabbat service, followed by an oneg hosted by Miriam and Mateo. It’s optional, but Evie didn’t suffer through an overnight flight not to attend any and every event that includes free food. It’s only noon, so they have time to chill. Adjust. Evie still has time to prepare for this imminent family reunion and the nonzero chance that Naomi will be there.
But first?
Her limbs need contact with a soft surface, immediately.
“Want to watch the next episode of Love Island ?” Theo asks.
Evie almost blurts, I love you . Instead, she rummages through her suitcase for sweatpants, a T-shirt, and her toiletry bag before retreating to the bathroom because travel clothes have always seen shit that clean sheets don’t deserve. Dev left a stack of folded towels on the vanity, fluffy towels, so she opts for a quick shower to wash away the stale airplane scent from her skin. When she returns to their room, Theo’s asleep on top of the duvet, dressed in clean joggers and a half-zip, Love Island paused on his laptop. Evie swallows. His presence on the bed accentuates how small it is.
Still, her bones scream, Horizontal! Now!
She listens.
Lies next to him.
When Evie gently removes his askew glasses, he stirs. “I’ll take the couch tonight.”
“Theodore.” Couch is a generous descriptor for the two-seater futon in the living room. She pictures his scrunched, contorted limbs unable to find a comfortable position. Even in his sleep, Theo’s thinking about her comfort at the expense of his own. It’s ridiculous. Evie rolls her eyes. “Don’t be weird.”
“I’m not,” Theo mumbles.
She smirks.
“ This is weird,” he continues.
“Hmm?”
“Weird that it’s not weird, you know?”
Evie watches his chest rise and fall with each breath and her sleepy brain is back in Jacob’s kitchen, hearing words not meant for her ears. Jacob’s provocation. We both fell for women who deserve better. Theo’s response. You think I don’t know that? Evie’s reaction. You deserve her.
Her .
Someone else.
Someone who wants to be a wife.
Someone who will appreciate what a fantastic husband her best friend is.
Her body tired but her brain somehow wired, Evie rolls onto her stomach to watch the buffered episode of Love Island , not caring that Theo will feel some kind of way that she started it without him. She doesn’t just want to watch it alone. She needs to. Because since when is this even their show? When did that change? Nothing was supposed to change.
Evie starts the episode.
She’s snoring before the opening credits roll.
Evie wakes to the scream of a siren, curled around Theo’s body. Her arm draped across his torso, one leg splayed over his, what she feels right now is warm and weird. Weird that it’s not weird. Theo doesn’t move. Just holds her, his hand on her thigh as he sleeps through the noise because his body remembers the sounds of the city. She nestles into him because she’s semiconscious and she likes it, being held.
Theo holding her.
Her eyes flutter open and the room is dark.
It’s dark.
She rolls out of his arms, palming the mattress for her phone.
They overslept.
By a lot.
“Theodore.”
He rolls away from the sound of her voice, so she stands and launches a pillow at him. It flies past Theo and connects with the ceramic vase on the end table. It shatters on the floor. Shit. Theo’s eyes pop open and he sits up. Blinks, then reaches for his glasses.
“Were you aiming for me ?”
“Shut up.”
She cleans up the mess she made, searching the ceramic pieces for a maker’s mark and hoping that its origin is HomeGoods. Nope. D EV is scrawled on the underside of the base. When Dr. Dev Kumar isn’t learning how to save lives, he is apparently a master potter. Cool. Great job.
Theo gapes at his phone. “It’s ten ?”
“Yup.”
“I set an alarm.”
“Me too.”
She uses the bathroom. Reads the string of texts from Aunt Mir on the toilet. Evie meant to attend tonight’s Shabbat service, so she should feel bad about sleeping through it. Embarrassed. Furious with herself. Anything but what she actually feels when her aunt immediately responds see u tomorrow! to her frantic so sorry!! text.
Relief.
Theo’s still on the sofa bed when she reenters the room, sitting upright and reading on his phone, his legs folded like a pretzel. Evie must still be half-asleep delirious because she wants to climb onto his lap and wrap her legs around his waist. She blinks the image away just as he looks up at her and rakes a hand through his hair. “Hungry?”
She isn’t.
But she nods, just to get out of this room.
Away from this bed.
She doesn’t consider that it might be more dangerous to go outside, to experience New York with Theo at night. Just rebundles. Steals his beanie. Then follows him down Myrtle to Alejandro’s, a tapas bar that he used to frequent with dim twinkle lights, live music, and cheap margaritas. It’s a mediocre sound setup, feedback crackling the speakers in the middle of a Radiohead medley. Theo holds out his hand, and because bodies are everywhere, she takes it. They weave their way to the bar, where someone who just finished garnishing a margarita looks up, their eyes widening the moment they connect with Theo’s.
“Cohen?”
Duties abandoned, the bartender ducks under the bar to embrace him. Evie knows she knows them, but can’t immediately place this person who has tattoos covering both arms and an impeccable handlebar mustache. Until she recognizes the heart-shaped mole under their left ear, the ear that she once whispered filthy things into.
His eyes shift toward her. “Evie.”
Evie needs a drink.
Right now.
She nods a quick hello, then orders a round of tequila shots and pivots to claim an empty high-top table, her heart thrumming in her ears because what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck . It throws her more than she wants to admit, eye contact with a sloppy hookup. Sex that only happened because she was hurt. Because she wanted to cause hurt in the moment. The next morning, Theo was making eggs when she emerged from Topher’s bedroom. Morning , he said. So unfazed. Evie wasn’t sure what was more mortifying. That she fucked his roommate to hurt him. Or that she fucked his roommate… and it didn’t hurt him.
Theo joins her at the table.
Topher, too, balancing four tequila shots. “I’m taking a fifteen. Second round is on the house.”
Cool.
Be cool .
Evie takes a shot.
Swallows the shame of a stupid, near-decade-old mistake while they catch up like adults. Because they are adults. She loosens up after the second shot. Throat warm, Evie leans in, rests her elbows on the table, and learns that the uptight business bro that Topher James once was is no more.
“Alé hired me to do the books while I was applying to be a corporate slut, then tricked me into running the place while he snowbirds in San Juan. It’s cool. The old bastard deserves it. And I kind of love it? It’s not corporate slut money—”
“Hedge-fund analyst,” Theo translates for Evie, his breath tickling her ear.
“—but it pays the bills. Inspiration walks through the door every night. I can music .”
“Still performing?” Theo asks.
“Writing, mostly. Producing a bit.”
“Cool.”
“Slippery People is due for a comeback.”
Two-Drink Evie snorts. “Slippery People?”
“His band,” Theo says.
Topher throws his arm around Theo. “ Our band.”
“Fuck off.” Evie laughs, loud. “Theo wasn’t in a band.”
“Cohen.” Topher’s eyes are puppy-dog wounded. “She doesn’t know about Slippery People?”
“It was one open mic.”
“An iconic open mic. We made Billy Joel fucking punk . People are still talking about it.”
“Are you people?”
“I am people.”
Evie is just tipsy enough that her jaw drops, her mouth forming a perfect O. Theo shrugs sheepishly, and she tries to imagine it. She isn’t listening to the conversation, instead processing information about her best friend that she doesn’t already know. Theo in a band. Theo singing. Since when? It has no right to hurt as much as it does, this reminder that he had a whole life in New York, that there’s this gap in their friendship. Evie didn’t know New York Theo. Not really. After the Topher Incident, there was a shift. Imperceptible at first. Missed calls. Rescheduling Survivor . Insisting to each other that they’re fine. Just busy. Now she thinks of the college years, the physical (and not-so-physical) distance between them as a blip. But in this moment? Learning about Slippery People?
It feels more like a chasm.
It’s not fair. But in college, Evie had a whole life, too.
Without him.
So.
“I should get back,” Topher says, disrupting her spiral by drumming his knuckles on the table before taking a step backward. “But really, it’s good to see you both. I’m glad it worked out.” His smile is genuine as he nods at the ring on her finger, then turns to Theo and claps his back. “Took you long enough.”
Topher walks away.
Took you long enough.
Four words have never felt more loaded.
Evie pushes the last tiny glass filled with liquid courage toward Theo. “Slippery People…?”
“Isn’t a real thing.”
“What did you sing?”
Theo winces, then picks up the shot. “‘Piano Man.’”
“No.”
“I’m so serious.”
“You made ‘Piano Man’… punk? I wish I was there.”
“Me too.”
He tilts his head back and Evie waits for the nose wrinkle that always accompanies the burn of alcohol. Me too. It’s so earnest, it makes her miss a life that was never hers—late nights at Alejandro’s, attending Slippery People’s one-night-only performance of “Piano Man,” experiencing New York with Theo.
Took you long enough.
We both fell for women who deserve better.
Come on.
“Do you ever wonder…” Evie doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, how to articulate what she’s feeling in a way that doesn’t cross every boundary that protects her, protects them. Does he ever wonder what? If Evie’s natural frequency matches New York, too? If in this city, their relationship would’ve amplified?
Her cheeks are on fire.
But two shots aren’t enough to safeguard her heart from his reply.
“All the time.”
Does Theo even know what he’s admitting to? No way. If he ever felt how she once felt, in the past, a super long time ago … wouldn’t she know? Wouldn’t she have felt it, too? No. Evie swaps tequila for water before she says (or does!) anything she’ll regret, then harasses him about Slippery People until last call and it feels just like waking up in his arms. Warm and weird. Back at Dev’s, Theo is asleep the moment his head sinks into a pillow. Don’t be weird. She lies down and stares at the ceiling. Counts backward from one hundred. Is unable to crash next to him because she is vibrating , so she takes a pillow and her phone to the couch.
Puts distance between them.
And then, only then, is she still enough to sleep.