Chapter 2
This Year
“L EAVE. IMMEDIATELY.”
Chloe looks up from her desk and finds Sylvia standing in her doorway, disappointment flooding her face.
“I told you no one works on their birthday,” Sylvia continues. Chloe shifts nervously. As the director of the Wick Collection and Chloe’s boss, Sylvia is used to making demands that are immediately satisfied.
“Your presence here today is unacceptable,” Sylvia says, pushing the bold green frames of her glasses upward. “You only turn twenty-nine once. Leave the gallery and go get drunk.”
Chloe glances at her watch. “It’s ten in the morning.”
“A perfectly acceptable time to get drunk on champagne.”
“On a Tuesday?” Chloe laughs.
“If your birthday falls on a Tuesday, then you drink on a Tuesday,” Sylvia replies.
Chloe smiles, remembering her twenty-first birthday. They were all taking the same geography seminar required for graduation, and the professor counted attendance as 50 percent of the grade. Instead of skipping class, Sloane made Chloe a thermos of mai tais and insisted Chloe chug every time the professor said “topography.” Luke had to carry Chloe out of class. Then Marianne drove everyone to the swimming hole off campus. While Alden and Wyatt spent hours on the rope swing, performing more elaborate cannonballs into the water, Chloe dozed in Luke’s lap, thinking that it was impossible to feel that happy.
Sylvia’s piercing voice brings Chloe back to the reality of how different this birthday is going to be. She won’t be surrounded by her friends. She won’t fall asleep in the arms of the man she loves. She will be alone. Because last year, she said no, and it changed everything.
“You are too young to spend the day with an old woman like me,” Sylvia says, her silver bob swinging in the art gallery’s perfect light. “At a minimum, go sleep with a stranger. That’s the best part of your twenties. You’re single. In your prime. But you’re acting like a sad sack.”
“Maybe,” Chloe says, not really meaning it. “Stranger sex is hard to achieve in the daylight. I don’t mind working today.” She takes a breath and continues. “I’d like to work today.” Chloe knows the day will move too slowly without work.
“Fine.” Sylvia sighs dramatically. “Bring me the color swatches for the new Sandersen exhibit,” she says, walking away.
Chloe gathers her portfolio, grateful for the distraction of this task. It will take hours to debate the wall colors for their newest exhibit. As head of installations, it’s Chloe’s job to select every aspect of how the pieces will be displayed, from their order on the walls to the best background color to highlight the work. Sylvia always has final approval, so Chloe gathers her portfolio, relieved for once to spend the morning discussing shades of olive.
She spends the rest of the day at her desk, handling the never-ending logistics associated with locating, transporting, and delivering priceless artwork. Chloe works with a small team, but today she doesn’t do much delegating. She wants to bury herself in the work.
When Chloe walks out of the gallery just after six, she’s surprised to find someone waiting. Wyatt is sitting on a bench, legs crossed casually as he studies the novel in his hands.
“Hey, Chloe,” he says, standing and walking toward her.
It’s a busy sidewalk, commuters focused on after-work activities with little patience for Wyatt’s disruptive crossing. But he weaves through the sea of people with ease. That’s true of much of his life. No matter what is happening around him, Wyatt walks confidently in his own direction, unfazed by the expectations or reactions of others.
He brushes the edge of a woman’s shoulder and raises his hand in apology. Chloe watches as the woman stops, starstruck by the brief interaction. This woman hesitates for a moment and then continues down the sidewalk, but twice she looks over her shoulder at Wyatt. Of course, he doesn’t see any of this. It’s not that Wyatt is oblivious to female attention. Over the years, there have been dozens of women who have earned his focus. But these types of everyday reactions are constant, and maybe that’s why he’s unaffected.
Chloe understands the passing woman’s reaction. To a stranger, Wyatt is a tall mystery, so attractive it’s almost intimidating. Brushing against his muscular shoulders or watching his midnight hair fall across his forehead as he casually pushes it aside—it’s swoonworthy. At least that’s the echo Chloe and Sloane and Marianne have heard through the years. Women always seemed mystified that Wyatt is just a friend, as if his sex appeal renders platonic relationships impossible.
But the broad smile he delivers as he reaches her side immediately puts her at ease. Wyatt takes a step back, raises his phone, and snaps a picture.
“What was that?” Chloe asks.
“Proof of life,” Wyatt says. “Sloane is freaking out.”
“I was going to call her as soon as I got home,” Chloe fibs. “I was swamped at work.” It’s not that Chloe is ignoring her best friend, it’s just that conversations with Sloane are stressful. At least these days they are. Sloane is incapable of having a single discussion without asking for explanations Chloe is unable to formulate.
Wyatt texts Sloane the picture. “That should satisfy her,” he says.
“Sorry you had to come all the way over here.” Chloe shifts uncomfortably. When she ended things with Luke last year, there was an unspoken division among their friends. Luke got Wyatt, obviously. And ever since then, she can’t help but feel guilty every time she sees her ex’s best friend. Even though Wyatt is her friend too, it feels disloyal somehow.
“You know how it is when Sloane issues orders,” Wyatt says. “Plus, I wasn’t going to let you spend your birthday alone, Chloe.”
“How do you know I don’t have plans?” she asks defensively.
Wyatt raises his eyebrows, seemingly confident in his prediction that Chloe is planless and alone.
“Fine. You’re right. But I want to be alone.”
“Really?”
She nods, and it must convince Wyatt because he grabs his phone and quickly types another message.
“What did you tell Sloane?” Chloe asks.
“That you’re alive and you’re smiling. That’s all we care about.”
Chloe can feel the tears fighting to surface. She’s not sure how she managed to find these friends who have stuck by her through so many years. Especially after last year and the disaster she caused, they still seem to care.
“Where are you going?” Wyatt asks.
Chloe takes a deep breath, using the time to settle her emotions. “Home,” she says.
“Can I walk with you?”
“It’s out of your way.” Chloe lives about ten blocks from the gallery, in a fourth-floor apartment of an old townhouse near Embassy Row. When she abruptly moved to Washington, DC, after leaving New York last year, it was available and in her budget. The stairs are a hassle, but they are worth it for the light that floods into the living room each afternoon.
“I like walking through the fancy neighborhoods once in a while,” Wyatt says. His apartment is in Petworth, close to the office of Granite , the online magazine where he’s worked for years. The downtown neighborhood has become one of the trendiest areas to live, filled with renovated lofts and newer condos. Chloe prefers the tree-lined boulevards of upper Northwest, but her life there is far from fancy. After last year, she needed to wash away the past. She’s content with her simple new beginning.
“I’m fine. I promise,” Chloe says as she starts walking. When Wyatt places his hand on her back, guiding her through the busy crowds, she knows she doesn’t need his company but she still feels happy to have it. Despite their constant bickering, Wyatt has always been one of her favorite people.
“Tell me about your plans while I walk you home and then I’ll leave you alone,” Wyatt says.
“I’m just going to do some stuff in my apartment,” Chloe says.
“Does it involve facials and chocolate?” Wyatt asks.
Chloe eyes Wyatt suspiciously. “No.”
“Okay.” Wyatt reaches for his phone again and types another message.
“Who are you texting now?” Chloe asks.
“Marianne.”
“Things must seem bad if Marianne is also giving you orders.”
“She occasionally checks in on the Chloe Death Watch text thread.”
Chloe groans. “I’m disturbed to know that text thread exists.”
“You ghosted everyone for months. It became necessary.” Wyatt continues typing on his phone as Chloe processes his statement. She didn’t mean to cut off communication, but after the breakup, it became impossible to give anyone answers when she was still searching for them herself.
Wyatt looks up from his phone. “Marianne says I have to make sure you aren’t crying into a bottle of wine with a face mask and a pound of chocolate because”—Wyatt reads Marianne’s message—“‘ Face masks make Chloe break out, especially the cheap sheet masks, but she never remembers this, and if she only eats sugar, she gets jittery by midnight and can’t sleep. Don’t let Chloe be a pimpled zombie on her birthday. ’ Those were my instructions,” Wyatt relays.
“She’s really mastering this mother thing.” Chloe tucks her hair behind an ear, knowing that Marianne is exactly right. “How is she doing?”
“Sometimes she’s harder to get in touch with than you. The baby is always napping or about to nap. But she seems happy. Teddy is a very chill baby.” Wyatt’s simple observation makes Chloe flinch. She hasn’t spent enough time with Teddy to know.
“We missed you last week,” Wyatt says.
Luke, Alden, and Wyatt spent Easter at Marianne’s house. Alden dressed up as the Easter bunny while Luke and Wyatt had a stupidly competitive egg hunt. Marianne said she found a plastic egg in her yogurt container. Chloe skipped the reunion, promising to visit soon, which was probably for the best because Sloane got stuck on a work crisis and couldn’t make the trip. Somehow Chloe had successfully avoided Luke for over a year, but that also meant avoiding her friends too.
“Marianne’s an excellent mother,” Wyatt says. “She’s definitely meant for it.”
Chloe feels guilt wash over her. She shouldn’t be getting updates from Wyatt. She should know this. Marianne had a baby six months ago and Chloe’s been to visit twice. She could say that life’s been busy, with a move and a new job, but that’s not the truth. If everything hadn’t changed last year, Chloe would have been dyeing eggs last week and visiting constantly. It’s what they’d always done for each other.
Each time Chloe has seen Marianne she has apologized. Marianne says she understands. Marianne even attempts to ease Chloe’s guilt by claiming that Chloe is doing her a favor because it’s so much easier to keep up with everyone over the phone now that she has a baby’s nap schedule to navigate. Which, based on Wyatt’s comment, might be accurate. But Chloe knows she needs to do better.
“I don’t deserve them,” Chloe says. She swings her bag to the opposite shoulder as she and Wyatt continue walking up Connecticut Avenue. “Everything feels different now. I broke us.”
Wyatt stops walking, reaching for Chloe’s shoulders. “You didn’t break anything.”
Chloe looks up at Wyatt, surprised by his answer. After Chloe and Luke broke up, it fractured their close-knit group. Chloe assumed everyone blamed her, but maybe that wasn’t the case.
“Stop punishing yourself,” Wyatt says. “You shattered someone’s heart. Who hasn’t?” Wyatt shrugs, his eyebrows raised, and Chloe realizes how much she’s missed his quips over the last year.
“Are you giving out lessons?” Chloe asks.
“You really nailed it your first time.” Wyatt puts his hands in his pockets and leans back on his heels. “Maybe you should be the instructor in this scenario.”
“Breaking someone’s heart was never my intention,” Chloe says as she stares down at the sidewalk.
“No. I know it wasn’t,” Wyatt says.
“Do you think Luke knows that?” Chloe asks, her voice as small as her heart feels.
Wyatt opens his mouth and hesitates. He finally says, “I think that’s a question for Luke.”
Chloe nods. If only she could be brave enough to ask him.
“Here.” Wyatt hands her a small wrapped package.
“Sloane is making you deliver her gifts too?”
“It’s not from Sloane. She said you should be receiving a link,” Wyatt shrugs.
Chloe knows that Sloane loves giving gifts, but they usually come via email and with a side of judgment. Last year Chloe received a gift certificate to Rag & Bone along with a note that said: Skinny jeans are out. Can’t wait to see how you update your wardrobe! Chloe wonders what Sloane thinks she needs this year. Therapy, most likely.
She eyes the small package Wyatt holds. Her heart swells for a moment. “Did he ask you to give me something?” She doesn’t need to say his name. The he in her life is always Luke.
Wyatt looks away as he shakes his head. “This is from me.”
“Oh,” Chloe says, a mix of shock and embarrassment. Of course Luke wouldn’t give her a birthday gift. But in the ten years of their friendship, Wyatt has only given Chloe a handful of presents, usually when Sloane mandates some kind of holiday gift exchange.
“It’s nothing really. I just figured you should have something to unwrap,” Wyatt says.
“Thanks.” Chloe holds the box, nervously turning it in her hands.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Open it.”
Chloe crosses the sidewalk to a bench and sits as she carefully unwraps the package. She peels open the box lid and laughs loudly.
“It reminded me of you,” Wyatt says.
She holds up a bobblehead hula dancer, long blonde hair swinging down its back.
“It even looks like me,” Chloe says. “Except the boobs. These are obscene.”
Wyatt swallows. “No good can come from me discussing your boob size.” He reaches for the doll, changing the subject. “This is why it reminds me of you.” He holds up the hula dancer as its hips sway back and forth, Chloe’s signature move.
“I’m an excellent dancer,” Chloe states.
“You really are,” Wyatt says as he clears his throat.
She holds the gift and smiles. “Thank you, Wyatt. I needed to laugh today.”
They lean back on the bench, the warm spring air brushing against Chloe’s skin and making her feel, for a moment, like life is good again.
“Have you heard from him?” Chloe timidly asks.
“Today? No.” Wyatt shakes his head. “But I’m sure Luke’s thinking about you.”
“I doubt that,” Chloe replies.
“He still thinks about you. He still misses you, Chloe. I know that for sure.”
Chloe places the bobblehead doll back in the box. “He hates me.”
“No one hates you,” Wyatt says with more generosity than Chloe thinks she deserves. “But an explanation might help.” Wyatt is probably referring to Luke, but Chloe knows that her friends want an explanation too.
Chloe and Luke haven’t spoken since the proposal. She tried, but it was a disaster. When she ran away from Central Park, her friends swooped in. Chloe showed up at Marianne’s hotel room, and Sloane came over to join them for room service. The three of them sat in silence as Chloe pushed cold French fries around her plate and held back tears. When Alden stopped by later that night with a bag of Chloe’s things and a message from Luke that he wanted her to move out as soon as possible, the dam broke. Chloe started sobbing and didn’t stop until Marianne and Sloane forced her into bed.
She understood Luke’s hurt and embarrassment that flamed those initial days. But after a week, she asked him to meet at their favorite diner. His usually friendly demeanor was erased. All Luke wanted to discuss were the logistics of Chloe leaving his apartment and the division of their things. Chloe thought their history was deep enough for a more open-ended conversation. She hoped the damage was fixable or at least open to discussion. But Luke’s mind was clear. Their end was a judgment Chloe wasn’t allowed to debate.
Chloe left the diner more confused than the moment of the proposal. She sent unopened text messages, left unreturned messages, and finally realized that Luke never wanted to speak again. Which made spring break complicated.
The six friends always took a spring break vacation together, a tradition that started in college. The location changed over the years, but everyone’s attendance was nonnegotiable. The year of Luke’s proposal, they had already booked a vacation home in Costa Rica. When Luke insisted that he couldn’t be in the same room as Chloe, she agreed to stay home. Then Marianne decided that she didn’t want to travel outside the country while she was pregnant. And Sloane said she didn’t want to tag along on a boy trip. It was the first time in their nine years of friendship that they hadn’t spent spring break together.
And the birthdays and births and moves since then hadn’t brought them together either. Chloe’s heart broke again. Because the consequence she feared was losing her friends along with the love of her life.
When her relationship with Luke ended, when she told Luke no, Chloe knew that she was saying no to the entire world they had built together. Every time the group discussed getting together, Luke refused to see Chloe. It wasn’t fair to ask him to stay away. And it wasn’t fair to ask her friends to choose. So instead, Chloe got used to being alone.
“What are you really doing tonight?” Wyatt asks, bumping his shoulder against Chloe’s.
“It’s private.”
“Battery-operated private?”
Chloe rolls her eyes. “You wish.”
“So, Chloe has a secret,” Wyatt says, leaning back on the bench.
“Maybe,” Chloe shrugs. “Maybe I have lots of secrets.”
“I have no doubt about that.” Wyatt turns toward her, his long legs folding under the bench so that their faces meet. “But the question is, are you going to share this one with me?”
Chloe hesitates. After years of sharing her life with Luke, it feels good to have something for herself. Actually, it feels necessary.
But something about Wyatt tonight makes Chloe feel safe. Maybe it’s the stupid gift or maybe it’s the fact that their conversation has helped ease the guilt mountain she has built over the last year. Because, finally, she feels like she doesn’t have to be alone all the time.
“Fine. You can come over. But not a word to anyone, Wyatt. This is between us.”
“You can trust me, Chloe.” Wyatt doesn’t need to say it because Chloe already knows it’s true.