Chapter 8
A VERY TOOK THE MOST agonizing forty-five-minute subway ride filled with inexplicable slowdowns and unintelligible loudspeaker announcements to the Staten Island ferry terminal.
She hustled under the blue sign at the entrance and up the stairs to the boat just as the gates were about to close.
She grabbed a seat next to a window on the lower level, and a beat later the boat took off across the bay.
Choppy sea water splashed against the glass, mirroring the seasickness churning in Avery’s stomach.
A group of tourists stood on the outside decks fighting the harsh December wind to take whatever blurry picture of the Statue of Liberty they could get.
Avery related to their feelings of desperation as she willed the boat to go faster, to take her as far away from Noah as possible and closer to tonight’s distraction.
Twenty minutes later, after the boat docked on Staten Island, she was in an Uber on her way to a gray townhouse nestled between other gray townhouses.
An empty, run-down pizza shop stood lifeless on the corner of Pete’s street, which stretched out underneath a row of telephone pole wires dangling dangerously low to the ground.
Avery shook her head, wondering what the hell she was doing here.
There was no reason she needed to go all the way to Staten Island for a booty call.
It was even a trek to get to Brooklyn from her place on the Upper East Side, and subways went there.
She should’ve just picked up a guy at a bar or swiped mindlessly on dating apps, like she usually did.
But as she stood at the base of Pete’s driveway, feeling hopeful in a way she was too scared to acknowledge out loud for fear of the crushing disappointment later, she knew those guys wouldn’t be good enough anymore anyway. Because none of them would be Pete.
Thunderous barking sounds suddenly roared from behind a barbed wire fence.
Avery sprinted up the stoop that she hoped led to Pete’s front door and rang the doorbell in distress.
Seconds later, Pete opened the door wearing a blue waffle knit shirt that made his eyes sparkle in a way Avery had never seen.
Her heart fluttered at the sight of them, how the reflection from his clothes made them look bigger and brighter than she remembered.
Then the Rottweiler barked again. She let out a shriek.
“I hope that isn’t your dog,” she breathed in a panic.
“Nah, that’s Milo. He’s my neighbors’ dog. He can be scary.” Pete opened his door a little more and put his hand out, gesturing inside his apartment. “Come on in. I’ll keep you safe,” he added with a wink.
Avery gave a playful eyeroll, blushing earnestly. “Such a gentleman.”
“I try.”
When Avery stepped inside, her eyes widened in awe.
In the foyer, where she stood, a massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a glass coffee table topped with a photography book of famous bands took center stage in the living room a few feet away.
Pressed against the back wall of the living room was a champagne couch covered in rust-colored throw pillows arranged artfully and purposefully.
“Wow,” Avery marveled. “Your place is stunning.”
Pete smiled. “Thank you. Can I get you a drink? I have soda, seltzer, beer, wine …”
Avery waved her hand and sat on the couch.
“Whatever you’re having,” she said distractedly, unable to take her eyes off her surroundings: the high tin ceilings, the massive flat screen television mounted on the wall, the floor that was so shiny you could eat off it.
Pete could probably get a lot more space for his money in Staten Island than he could anywhere else in the city, too, so it was smart to live here.
In Avery’s next life, she was working in finance.
Pete pulled two beer bottles from his fridge and set them on the coffee table. “Hope the trip here wasn’t too bad.”
Avery swallowed a mouthful of beer. “It was fine.” She was uninterested in small talk. She scooted closer to Pete on the couch and kissed him, pressing her body urgently against his. But then he pulled away and smiled strangely, like he was holding something back that was making him laugh.
“What?” Avery asked.
Pete shrugged innocently. “I don’t know. You just got here. Why don’t we just chill for a second?”
Avery stared at him. She didn’t transfer two subway lines, endure a bout of seasickness, and pay twenty bucks for an Uber to have a conversation .
She tried to jog his memory. “But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the other day …
” She pulled down the neckline of her V-neck sweater. “Don’t you wanna do it again?”
“Of course I do.” Pete didn’t even glance at her newly exposed cleavage. “But I’d also like to get to know you. Is that wrong?”
Get to know her? What was there to know?
That her friends thought she’d cheated on her college boyfriend and now she was a shell of a human being, everything good about her gutted out like a fish?
The real her would only repel Pete like it had repelled everyone else.
This, right here on the couch moments from hooking up, was much better, for everyone involved.
“I feel like we all do this stuff so backward,” Pete added with a chuckle. “I know what your naked body looks like but I don’t know your last name.”
“Russo,” Avery deadpanned.
Pete flashed her a boyish grin. “Well, now I know everything, don’t I?”
Avery set her beer down on the coffee table.
Pete was lucky he was so good at oral and looked so good in that blue shirt.
And maybe a small part of Avery liked that he wanted to get to know her.
Nobody had wanted to in a while, or at least she hadn’t given anyone a chance to decide if they wanted to in a while.
Her walls were industrial strength thick. But Pete always managed to crack her.
“Fine.” She needed to tread carefully. “What do you wanna know?”
Pete thought it over for a moment. Then he said, “What’s your favorite color?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Why does that matter?”
“Oh, come on. I’m starting easy.”
She sighed. “Purple.”
“Very nice. I’m a blue guy myself. Favorite food?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs.” The corners of her mouth raised slightly.
“Hold on.” Pete squinted dramatically, focusing hard on her face. “Is that a smile I see?”
Avery covered her mouth with her hand. But she’d been caught. It was too easy to give in to Pete’s effortless charm. She wondered how good it would feel to just relinquish herself to him. How freeing.
She put her hand back in her lap, the smile lingering. “Is that your next question?”
Pete draped his arm over the back of the couch. “Okay, here’s a real question. What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Really? Aren’t we already grown up?”
“I mean, yes, technically. But I’m still trying to eat more vegetables and submit my tax forms on time. I’m a bad grown-up.”
Avery nodded in agreement. She’d only recently learned what a 401(k) was.
“True. I guess when I grow up I want to be a writer.” She squirmed in her seat, regretting the words as soon as they came out of her mouth.
Too much. She’d revealed too much. She worked with so many writers but was too nervous to enter a pitch meeting for reasons she was nowhere near ready to tell Pete. She never should’ve brought this up.
“A writer, huh?” Pete eyed her curiously, intrigued. “What do you want to write about?”
“I don’t know. Anything.” Avery ran her palm over the silky couch, watching the fabric darken, before pivoting the attention away from her. “What about you?”
“I want to work in music. Maybe producing or marketing. But I feel the corporate world sinking its teeth into me, like it’s done to my dad.
” Pete sighed wistfully. “He’s never home and always complains that he wished he had more free time to spend with family or to golf.
But he doesn’t know how to get out. I’m not sure how I’ll get out either.
I’m only an analyst, so I’m pretty low on the ladder, but already I’m so overwhelmed all the time. ”
Pete gazed at Avery with his hands wrapped around his beer bottle. Avery could tell by the softness in his voice that that wasn’t something he told a lot of people. The weight of that responsibility sat heavily on her shoulders. This was getting way too intimate.
“Yeah,” was all she could say.
Pete fiddled with the sticker on his beer bottle. “My coworkers and I talk about quitting and, like, moving to Brazil or something all the time. You ever think that? Just leaving everything behind and starting over?”
More than anything, Avery thought, but she took a long sip of beer to put off saying that out loud.
That conversation would be dangerous, would risk Pete learning more about her than she was comfortable with him knowing.
She was already grateful he didn’t remember her from college and they could start fresh.
She didn’t need to allude to that part of her life now, or ever.
Luckily she was saved from responding by the sound of a garage door rumbling in the distance. Avery heard a key jimmy into a lock, then a few doors slam shut. “Pete?” an older woman’s voice called out. “You home?”
“Who’s that?” Avery asked. Pete hadn’t mentioned any visitors.
Pete whirled his head around, then took a deep breath.
“One second.” He set his drink down on the coffee table and sprinted away.
The sound of muffled voices drifted into the living room, growing louder until a middle-aged man and woman stood in the door frame.
Next to them, Pete’s face was splotchy and red.
“So, Avery …” He scratched his head. “These are my parents.”
Avery’s lower jaw practically unhinged from its socket. She shot a glance at the front door, ready to make a run for it. “Oh,” she said. She racked her brain for a more cohesive thought, but the next most intelligent thing she could think of was, “Hello.”