Chapter 20
I T TURNED OUT P ETE ’ S “ha” was not the omen Avery thought it was.
On her way home from Morgan’s dress fitting, he texted Avery asking to have a picnic in Central Park the following weekend.
Avery felt light-headed with relief when she saw his name pop up on her screen and flew her fingers across the keyboard to accept his invitation.
As she watched the word “Delivered” appear underneath her blue iMessage bubble, she thought about how just a few months ago, she’d have thought this suggestion was nauseating.
Picnics in the park always felt so cringeworthy, like a performance of romance.
Any traditional romantic gestures had always made Avery cringe.
Buying a dozen roses or a box of chocolates required no original thought, which made it feel meaningless.
And the mere knowledge that it was a romantic gesture put pressure on you to be grateful.
You’re a specific kind of bitch if you don’t swoon over the teddy bear your boyfriend gets you for Valentine’s Day.
But now, Avery didn’t even care about the cringe factor.
In fact, she was thrilled to have a picnic with Pete, and not in spite of the romance but because of it.
“Wait, you’re doing what? ” Morgan asked the next day on FaceTime. She was in the middle of giving herself a pedicure, her foot propped up in front of her phone on her coffee table, bright pink toes wiggling on screen. “Can you please repeat that?”
Avery was in the middle of stuffing her dirty clothes into a bag to bring to the laundromat. The situation was dire. She was running out of underwear.
“I can’t go to brunch this weekend because I’m having a picnic in Central Park with Pete,” she said.
Morgan set down her nail polish brush dramatically. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”
Avery laughed. “I don’t either.”
“Like, you’re having a picnic. In the park. With a guy who likes you. Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?”
The picnic was on a Saturday, on a beautiful spring day in April.
The sun shone bright and strong, covering Central Park in a thick blanket of warmth.
Pete and Avery walked hand in hand along the pathway through the lawn that overlooked Central Park West until they found an open spot beside a tree and away from the crowds and baseball fields.
Pete laid down a red-and-white gingham blanket, then from his backpack he pulled out some mild white cheddar cheese, a box of buttery crackers, a bottle of pink ros é , and a wireless boom box. Cringeworthy, clich é , and perfect.
Avery nodded toward the boom box. “I’ve been trying to find a good one of those. Where’d you get yours?”
“My ex from college actually got it for me.” Pete winced sympathetically. “Sorry, is it weird that I just told you that?”
Avery stiffened. It was only a matter of time before exes came up, and of course Pete would be so casual and unrestrained about sharing information about his. “No, it’s not weird. We’ve all got exes.”
“What was yours like?”
Avery chewed on her lip. “Let’s not go there.”
“Oh, come on. Here’s my story, although it’s kinda boring: She and I dated for a year but were just too different—we had different visions for our life and all that. It was a mutual breakup. Very cordial.”
“No drama. Must’ve been nice.”
“It was.” Pete looked curiously at Avery, as a prompt. “Okay, your turn.”
Avery swallowed a hearty sip of ros é , then tried giving Pete’s open approach a shot. “His name was Ryan. We dated for almost all of college.” She stopped abruptly, couldn’t bring herself to keep going; it was like she’d put her foot on the gas only to hit a stop sign.
“Why’d it end?”
Avery spent a few seconds picking at the yellow label on the cheese. And then, in her mind’s eye, she saw it again: the ceiling fan. She felt dizzy as she watched it go, round and round inside her head.
Whirr …
A sudden chill ran through her, goosebumps turning her skin into Braille, despite how warm it was outside. She filled her cup with more ros é and swallowed a massive gulp, managing not to let the memory spiral into a full-blown panic attack.
“We just grew apart,” she said.
Pete nodded, taking it in. Avery hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions. She hated lying to him. It was hard enough lying to her friends, but lying to Pete, to this incredible man who thought so highly of her, made her feel like her most reprehensible self.
“That simple, huh?” he said.
“That simple.” Avery shrugged. “Shit happens.”
Pete considered this. “Sounds like a good topic for you to write about.”
“What is?”
“Life.” Pete smirked at her. “Shit happening.”
“Oh, yes. How riveting.” Avery held her hands out, moving them from left to right in front of her like a marquee banner. “ Why Life Is Filled with Shit Happening by Avery Russo. I can see the Pulitzer now.”
Pete laughed. “Hey, I never said I was a writer. That’s all you.” His face softened, his blue eyes glinting in the sun. “I bet your writing is incredible.”
Avery couldn’t talk about the night that led to her breakup with Ryan, but maybe she could tell Pete about her writing.
There was more than one way to let someone in.
Her process of opening up to Pete involved this constant internal bartering, figuring out which piece of personal information would be significant enough to meet the current moment with him.
Her secret about Noah felt like her most expensive good.
Once that was gone she’d be depleted of everything.
“Here, I’ll show you something I wrote in college.” She took out her phone and tapped open the essay about reality television that she’d written for The Golden , then handed it over to Pete. Perhaps if she showed him her work, he’d feel satisfied enough and never ask about Ryan again.
Avery pinned Pete down with her eyes, her body tense and still as she watched him read her essay. Each time he reacted with a laugh or a nod or a “huh!” sound, Avery fought back the urge to dive headfirst into the reservoir in the middle of the park.
“This is amazing,” Pete said. “Funny, informative, and makes me feel way less guilty about how much I love reality TV.” He gave her back her phone.
“You’re an amazing writer.” He cupped her chin with his hand, making her look deeply into his eyes.
To really see him, for the way he was seeing her.
“Don’t forget about me when you write a bestseller one day. ”
Avery smiled. She’d done it. She’d let him in.
It was only a little, and it wasn’t everything, and she wasn’t sure if it would make up for all the other times she’d pushed him away.
But she was glad she could let her guard down some more.
She was glad that Pete was patient, that he didn’t give up on her when she acted cagey after Comedy Cellar or when she kicked him out of her apartment after sex in a blind rage.
Maybe now, whenever Pete thought of her, this would be the moment he’d remember, above all those others.
Avery leaned backward on her hands, letting the rays of the sun seep into her face and bare shoulders.
It was the most beautiful day of spring so far.
On the walking path, people were jogging, riding bikes, and meandering aimlessly, while others were playing catch on the lawn or reading books on nearby benches.
There was a long line in front of a blue and yellow Sabrett hot dog stand; Avery made a mental note to get one later.
She glanced at Pete, who was also enjoying himself, grinning and peering around at their fellow New Yorkers thawing from winter.
Avery was looking forward to the bachelor party in Colorado in a couple of weeks, to hanging out with Pete for several days in a row and seeing how he meshed with her friends.
But right now, she wanted to take it one step further.
To show him just how special he was to her.
Because it turned out she didn’t care how the bachelor party weekend went.
She knew, no matter what, that she wanted Pete by her side for all of it. Good or bad.
“So, I know Morgan and Charlie’s wedding isn’t for another four months,” she began. “But I was wondering. Do you want to be my plus-one?”
Pete leaned over their charcuterie board to kiss her. He pulled away slowly, gazing at her with an expression that looked something like love. And she gazed right back.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said.
Scout has been having diarrhea all over the apartment
It was far too early in the morning on a Monday for Morgan to be texting Avery about diarrhea, but here they were.
oh no, Avery texted back.
I need to cancel drinks tn. Charlie’s gonna be home late from work so I need to deal with this
Morgan sent Avery a photo of Scout looking up at the camera with sad puppy eyes, his little body wrapped in a blanket like a burrito.
Avery responded to the photo with a heart and told Morgan that she hoped he felt better.
That dog was in great hands. Morgan was so maternal.
Unlike Avery, who this morning realized she hadn’t watered her monstera plant for three weeks, and it had begun wilting to its death.
Avery’s phone buzzed again. Call me after work tho? I wanna hear about the picnic!
Avery smiled and wrote back sure thing