Chapter Twenty-Seven
T he next day, I meet Carley for a late breakfast before my afternoon shift at the library. Friday mornings and early afternoons are one of the rare chunks of time when both of us are consistently free.
Carley is dressed like she’s straight off the set of Emily in Paris in a pink, black, and gray argyle sweater with a matching pink corduroy skirt and white lace-trim socks.
It was also her suggestion to eat at Le Pain Quotidien, a Belgian bakery not too far from the library, but since we sat down, she’s been more focused on scrolling travel influencer accounts on Instagram than catching up with me.
She’s the living, breathing definition of wanderlust.
“Check this out!” From our two-person wood table by a window overlooking Broadway in the Flatiron District, she shows me her phone.
It’s open to a photo of Laurel from the popular travel account @takemeaway.laurel.
She’s wearing a multicolor gingham dress and standing in front of a body of water, on the other side of which is a landscape of pastel-colored houses.
My mouth drops open. “It’s so beautiful it almost looks like a painting.”
“Right? She’s in Belgium.” Carley runs her thumb along the phone and coos at the photo like it’s a precious newborn baby. She looks up at me with a determined glint in her blue eyes. “My show is closing this summer and I’m going to Europe before my next job.”
“Nice!” I take a sip of cappuccino.
“You should come with.”
I lower my mug and scoff. “I wish.”
“Don’t wish. Do.”
“I have school, remember?”
She tuts. “We can plan it around the summer schedule.”
“You’ve got something…” I point to her chin, where a bit of chocolate from her pain au chocolat has smeared.
She wipes it off with one motion. “Don’t change the subject.”
I chuckle. “If this were a rom-com you’d have missed the spot and your love interest would inevitably have to wipe it off for you, leading to a ‘will they or won’t they kiss’ moment.”
She freezes with her mug to her mouth. “Are you implying I’d be a shitty rom-com heroine due to my perfect coordination?”
I study her fondly. “In that outfit, you’d be perfect.”
She grins. “So… you’ll come with me?”
I shake my head. “Even if I didn’t have school, I can’t afford it. And if I take time off from work, I don’t get paid. It’s a lose-lose situation.”
Carley waves out the window at a toddler being pushed in a stroller, then turns back to me. “Except you’d see the world. With me. Win-fucking-win.”
I bite my tongue from arguing more. Carley has an answer for everything, but eventually she’ll tire out. Eventually being the key word.
She pouts. “You’re only twenty-four and all you do is work, go to school, and study. When do you play?”
“I played with Adam last night,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.
I rushed home after my class and we had a quickie in my room. By the time Marcia got home from the co-op board meeting, we were fully dressed and on the couch discussing The Hunger Games .
“Let’s table planning our trip to Europe for now.” Her eyes twinkle. “And dish about Hot Grandson.”
My lips curl into a smile. “What do you want to know?”
She leans forward. “You’ve hooked up two nights in a row. It’s practically a relationship.”
I pick off a piece of my apple turnover. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s definitely not a relationship.”
“You’re allowed to have a strictly sexual relationship, you know. I want to keep it casual with Frank, so we only hook up once a week.” She taps my hand. “But what do you want?”
I shrug. Based on everything I’ve learned about Adam in the months we’ve lived together, if we’d met under different circumstances—like if that message he sent me on Bumble had been real—I’m fairly certain I’d want to pursue something more than sex.
Then again, “dating app” Adam and “roommate” Adam might not be the same person.
You can write a phony or misleading dating profile and fake who you are over drinks, even dinner, but there’s only so much you can hide from the people you live with and, in our case, work with.
But why am I even thinking about this? I didn’t meet Adam on Bumble.
He’s Marcia’s grandson. A knot settles in my gut, though it might be carb overload.
“I feel a little scandalous to be honest.”
Carley smiles big like this is great news.
I hold up a hand. “Not in a Bridgerton sexy-scandalous way. I feel guilty… like I’m betraying the friendship and trust I’ve built with Marcia over the last almost year by sneaking behind her back to sleep with the grandson she’s just getting to know herself.
” It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud, which makes it more real. I slink down in my chair.
Carley frowns. “What does Adam say about it?”
I fiddle with my napkin. “We haven’t discussed it. Between worrying about Marcia’s health and then sneaking around, there’s been no time to define the relationship. Although that would be premature even in a typical hookup situation, which this is not.”
Carley purses her lips. “So what’s your plan?”
I shrug. “There is no plan. I assume he’ll move out eventually and if we’re still—”
“Banging?”
I chuckle. “Right. If we haven’t gotten bored of each other by then, we’ll need to discuss next steps. But we’re not there yet.”
“When is he moving out? Wasn’t this supposed to be temporary? It’s been a couple months already.”
I recall what he said in bed about not yet having figured out what he wants to do next and focusing on his relationship with Marcia for now. “I don’t think he’s in any rush. And it’s gotten really fun lately, so neither am I!”
We laugh.
I bite down on my lip as that pesky guilt washes over me again. I’m grateful when Carley changes the subject until she brings it back to the old one.
“Okay. Back to Europe. I love that you’re having great sex, but you’re doing it at home . Boring. You need to get out of Manhattan, and not just to Connecticut to visit your mom.”
“Like I said, I wish I could.” This time, I say it with more force. Discussion over.
Her expression softens. “When was the last time you took a vacation that wasn’t a stay cation?”
I don’t even need to think about it. “Spring break, junior year of college. Destin, Florida. But my mom paid for it.” I was still technically her dependent and since she’d paid for Audrina to go to Panama a few years earlier, she said it was only fair. “I’m on my own now.”
Carley leans forward in interest. “Was it Sabrina gone wild?”
I recall my five days of bordering-on-hedonistic activities with the vivid yet also cloudy memory made possible with the help of alcohol and lift my chin proudly. “It was.” As hedonistic as one can get while remaining faithful to her steady boyfriend at home.
“It will be even better with me,” she says assuredly.
“I’ve no doubt.” I look longingly at the slice of quiche lorraine the waitress sets at the table next to us. It was what I wanted but cost three times what I paid for my apple turnover. A girl who budgets breakfast has no business planning a trip to Europe. “I don’t see how I can swing it.”
Carley looks thoughtful. “I’m going to come up with an economical way. We’ll stay at hostels and research cheap eats.” She scrolls her phone and frowns. “Clearly, I won’t be able to live like these people. When building my TikTok brand, I should have focused my efforts on travel instead of makeup.”
“But you’re a makeup artist and you love it.”
“This is true. But if I were a popular travel influencer, I’d have sponsors paying for my trip and could take you as my guest.”
“Unpaid model for makeup tutorials versus travel companion at no cost.” I gesture like I’m weighing both options and tsk-tsk. “Yeah, what were you thinking?”