Chapter 4
New York, January
Augie often wished she could go back to that first week in New York and skip the moment when she first met Micah entirely.
“Augie?” he had said as he opened the door to his and Julia’s penthouse, the massive apartment spreading out behind him. Augie
had never been in a penthouse. She hadn’t even understood what “PH” stood for when she’d gotten on the elevator. “Am I saying
that right?”
Julia and Micah had invited her for dinner. Julia was Leah’s second cousin from Boston. While she was fifteen years younger
than Robin, they both worked in finance and were close. Julia’s husband, Micah, was the creative director at the ad agency
where Augie would be working; he, by way of Julia and Robin, had been the one to secure Augie the job.
Before that night, Augie and Micah had only talked over email—Augie was interested in brand strategy, so he’d linked her with a different director—and Augie had somewhat forgotten about him up until he opened the door.
He was undeniably handsome. Even in his early forties, he looked youthful and striking, tall and strong with muscles visible through his faded T-shirt.
His hair was buzzed, and his eyes were a piercing blue.
Even as Augie shook off her coat and the cold air, then shook his hand, she felt numb.
Julia had been on the phone when Augie stepped past him into the apartment. She saw her in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher,
still in her work clothes. She had the same blond hair as Robin and Leah, and she looked like the quintessential “Woman Who
Does It All” as she put away plates while speaking Mandarin. It had all been overwhelming: the foreign language, the beauty
of them both, the penthouse itself. Everything was huge and shiny, a modern floor plan filled with low neon furniture, smooth
white carpet and walls, a chair that looked like it had dreadlocks. Beyond, skyscrapers and water towers offered a postcard
view of city life.
“Are you settling in okay?” Micah had asked, an air of amusement about him as he hung up her coat. Julia had waved as they
moved into the kitchen and he reached for a bottle of wine. She mouthed “Sorry” before disappearing into another room. Micah
twisted off the cork.
Augie wasn’t sure whether to stand or sit on a stool, so she hovered by the gleaming countertop. She told him she was settling
in well, thank you, grasping for confidence.
“My apartment is a little funky. But I like it,” she said, glad to have something to ramble about. She told him all about
the one-bedroom she was subletting from an artist who only used recycled materials, which meant that while her bedroom was
lovely and clean, the living room was packed with junk. There were piles upon piles of boxes, craft supplies—trash.
“Well, as long as it’s not filled with rats.” Micah smiled with all his teeth. “You’re starting with Cheryl on Monday, right?
The lottery account? Those guys need your help. They’re so out of the loop.”
Augie was comforted by his words. She’d been briefed on the project: The New Jersey Lottery’s clientele was dying out, and they needed help getting young people to play.
She didn’t want to admit she knew nothing about the lottery—the only person she’d ever known to play was her friend Teuta, who had won tens of thousands from a scratch card years ago—but she figured that was the point of market research.
“You’ll be a good addition, no matter what,” Micah said, as if reading her mind. He handed her a bulbous glass of red wine.
“A breath of fresh air, if you will. Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Augie lifted her wine. He held her eye contact longer than expected—his eyes searching hers intently—and Augie felt
the first wave of intimacy pass between them. Their eyes were the exact same shade of blue.
“You know, the Europeans say always make sure you hold eye contact when cheers-ing. Otherwise, it’s seven years of bad sex.”
Augie blushed, glass hovering at her lips, the word sex hanging in the air. Later, she’d come back to this exchange. She’d wonder if he’d been noticing their irises, too—how it
was like looking in a mirror.
Micah was charming. Clever. Witty. He asked about her New York bucket list, if she’d ever ridden the ferry, been to MoMA.
He gave her a list of restaurants and bars. Every time she spoke, he seemed to really listen, and his insightful comebacks
made her feel smart and interesting in a way she hadn’t before. She kept laughing, impressed by her own banter, this version
of herself—and by the time Julia emerged, Augie felt as if his wife was intruding. But she told herself to grow up. That whatever
chemistry or attraction she’d felt radiating from Micah was in her imagination. She was being immature. Everything was harmless—they
were all adults.
After the Saturday wedding, Augie was glad she had Sunday and Monday off, but she was disappointed Leah wouldn’t be back from her cabin until Monday afternoon. All Augie wanted to do that morning after seeing Chat was go to Leah’s pool and rehash the night.
Still, after the flurry of text messages Augie had sent Leah, first at the wedding and then after getting home at three a.m.,
Leah called as soon as she’d woken up.
“That is some crazy shit,” she agreed as Augie told her every detail. Or at least every detail except for how attracted Augie
still was to Chat; she didn’t want to admit that to herself. “I feel bad,” Leah groaned. “Here I was trying to get you one
hot bone to get you out of your head, and now we have this mess. It is kind of funny, though. Kinky. A manny!”
“Yes, obviously, this is all your fault,” Augie joked. “But, seriously, I’m afraid to see him again. I need to focus on applications.
And can you believe he’s with the Crawleys?”
“Danika probably treats him like the pool boy. ‘Chat, go fetch me a Chardonnay! Chat, take off your shirt!’ Poor guy. We’ll
make a plan tomorrow. Don’t overthink it.”
Augie said she’d do her best as Leah apologized and said she had to go—that her cousins were dragging her to the lake. Augie
said no problem. She knew Leah had family in town from Chicago, which was why she’d stayed at the cabin since the party. That,
and because she didn’t start work until the next week. Not that it was real a job. Leah was doing yet another unpaid internship
at the Hotel Harrison, working as Mallory Harrison’s right-hand woman. Augie tried not to resent the fact that she had the
option to work for free.
When Augie woke up Monday morning, she looked forward to Leah returning and finally spending all afternoon at the pool. She
pushed herself out of bed and headed toward the smell of coffee.
“Couldn’t sleep in?” Her mom, Lilly, sat at the breakfast nook with her laptop, wearing her typical teaching outfit: black slacks and a silk tank top.
While she never bought trendy clothes, she was so naturally beautiful with her shiny dark hair, angel wing lips, and perfectly symmetrical face, everything looked good on her.
“Curse of a day off.” Augie poured coffee as Lilly pointed beyond her.
“Byrek’s on the counter, by the way. I went to Hyla this morning.”
Augie opened the box of cheesy, flaky pastries. She loved the Balkan delicacy from their friends’ bakery down the street.
She stuffed a piece in her mouth.
“Zami and Teuta were asking about you. You should go say hi.”
Augie sat down, grateful she was chewing and didn’t have to explain she wasn’t ready to face them. They’d thrown her such
a nice goodbye party.
Augie folded her knees up on her chair and soaked in the green of the backyard. Their house was small, a two-bedroom right
off 394, but Augie loved the space, this table especially. It was cozy—exactly the feeling a nook should evoke.
Lilly tilted her laptop screen down and raised her mug. Augie lifted her mug to clink, one of their rituals. When she was
younger, she’d become obsessed with saying cheers. She wasn’t sure where she first heard it—probably in her dad’s restaurant,
a seafood dive in Camden—but however it happened, it had stayed with her.
“Are you headed to Leah’s pool? Or Hannah’s? It’s going to be extra hot today.”
“Leah’s. She should be back soon.” Augie rotated her mug in her hands. When they’d first moved and her mom had chosen Aldon
Lakes for its incredible public schools, she hadn’t realized the schools were a result of the town’s wealth. They’d both been
aghast by Augie’s friends’ mansions—all their lakefront views and pools.
“I swear, every summer, they say, ‘This is the hottest summer on record.’ But it really does feel like it,” Augie groaned.
“Thanks, global warming. Maybe I should be teaching science and not Gatsby.”
“Whatever. Gatsby is as essential as the globe.”
“Right? All hail the green light.” Lilly slid her papers and laptop into her tote bag, and Augie felt comforted as she noticed
the familiar doodles on the back of a page—the same flowers and stars she sketched when daydreaming. It was one of many traits
they had in common—including how they both laughed in a downward scale; loved all the same books, Little Women and The Bell Jar and every Harry Potter; and said “oofda” ironically. Even if Augie looked like her dad, she was glad that deep down, she
was more like her mom.
“So, your summer class is Monday, Wednesday, Friday? Is it in Pillsbury Hall now?”
“Yup. Finally finished the construction. It’s so fancy. You’ll have to come see.”
Augie nodded. She didn’t want to go back. It had been strange enough to circle her mom at the University of Minnesota in undergrad.
Not that Augie had a choice, given the perk of free tuition from her mom’s job.
“I had requested Tuesday, Thursday, but alas. It’s okay.” Lilly leaned over to buckle her sandals. “I’m only teaching the
first two sessions, then I’ll be all in on research. We have a good summer team, too. It’s not too bad. And I can help you
with your résumé anytime.” She checked her watch. “Okay, shoot. I have to go.” She kissed Augie on the head, slung her tote