Chapter Twenty-Five
I can’t seem to get enough of the views of the skyline in this city. Last night we watched the sunset from the waterfront Time Out Market in Brooklyn’s DUMBO neighbourhood. DUMBO stands for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass, though a few people have told me that it’s Down Under the Manhattan and Brooklyn Overpasses. Whatever you want to call it, the views from the market are spectacular. You can take your pick from two floors full of different restaurants, then eat your fill while admiring the visual feast that is the East River, Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan skyline. My only regret was not being able to sample every restaurant. I’ve linked to the ones we tried, but I’m curious to know if any of my Swannies out there have been? If so, tell me what you got!
– Excerpt from Swanning About
Sophie plunked her head down onto the table, resting her forehead against the cool surface, even if it meant that she could no longer see Edie on the screen. ‘I’m now convinced that I no longer know how words work, and I don’t know how people write books ever.’
Sophie had spent all of yesterday and most of today working on her proposal. Because she’d had no interruptions, she’d really been able to concentrate, which was both wonderful and terrible. She was glad Marisa and Tom had gone out on a date. They deserved a night out. Unfortunately, Mike had cancelled their own plans – he’d had to stay late at work – which she didn’t love but was understandable.
The problem with no interruptions meant you had no excuse not to look at your laptop, and Sophie was beginning to hate the small, blinking cursor. Just sitting there, alone on a blank page. It was mocking her, she was sure of it.
When she looked up, Edie blinked back at her from her tablet screen. She was out on her patio, enjoying the evening with a glass of wine. For the first time in weeks, Sophie wished she were there, too. They could split the bottle and Edie would listen, hug her and tell her she was being ridiculous.
‘Okay, you’re being ridiculous.’
Of course, she could manage most of that without Sophie being next to her.
‘Of course I support your ridiculousness,’ Edie said, topping off her wine glass. ‘It’s one of my favourite things about you. If you were one of those people born with a metal rod shoved up your butt, completely unable to bend, who took themselves so seriously . . .’ She glared off to the side, and Sophie was sure it was in the direction of her neighbour’s house. ‘Then I’m not sure we could be friends. And since you’re one of my favourite people on this entire planet, that would make me bereft.’ She set down her glass with a click.
‘I appreciate that,’ Sophie said. ‘And I love you too.’
Zeus, Edie’s gigantic ginger cat, leapt up onto the table. Edie scooped him up and deposited him into her lap. ‘I have complete faith in your abilities. You’re a good writer, Edie, or your blog wouldn’t have so many readers. You’re getting overwhelmed is all. What’s that thing you say – “a little step will do”?’
‘I can manage little steps, it’s the big steps here that are killing me.’
Edie pursed her lips as she scratched Zeus under the chin. ‘Small steps make up big steps. Figure out how to break it down.’
Sophie rubbed her eyes and made a frustrated sound. ‘It’s not the breakdown that’s the problem. It’s the assembling.’ She slumped in her chair. ‘The blog is basically episodic by nature. There’s nothing stringing the posts together. I know some of the pieces I’d like to have in the New York bit, but I’m not sure how to connect it all for the pitch. It’s like I’m trying to make a book out of Post-it notes.’
Edie continued to pet Zeus as she considered this, only to stop suddenly, a confused look on her face. ‘What on earth . . .’ She dug Zeus’s collar out of his fur, frowning. ‘That arsehole. ’
‘What did Zeus do now? Tear up your potted plants again?’
Edie huffed in irritation. ‘Not Zeus. My awful neighbour. He put a tag on Zeus’s collar!’
‘How do you know it was him?’
Edie gave her a flat look. ‘Who else would it be?’ Her scowl turned thoughtful. ‘Though this move is surprisingly creative coming from him. I’m almost impressed.’
‘What’s the collar say?’
‘ “For a good time, call . . .” and then it lists my phone number.’
Sophie guffawed and then quickly stifled it. ‘Sorry – I mean, the bastard. We ride at dawn.’
Edie set Zeus onto the ground. ‘No, no, your first response was correct. It was a good move.’ She tapped her fingers on the table, gazing up at the sky. ‘I know you won’t be home for months, but what do you think about dogs? A big, filthy, smelly dog that barks a lot? Because I’m suddenly thinking of fostering one for a while.’ She turned wide eyes on Sophie. ‘Maybe a few of them at once. My garden has a fence, and shelters are overrun, you know. I’m only doing my bit.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘Do you even want to deal with a dog that barks all the time?’
‘Sometimes,’ Edie said airily, ‘we must make sacrifices for the important things in life.’ She sighed, refocusing on the screen. ‘Getting back to the topic at hand – I think you’re missing a rather obvious through-line. You . Readers connected because your words, your situation, all those things resonated with them.’
Sophie straightened. ‘Huh.’
Edie waved a hand like she was shooing her away. ‘I know, I know, I’m brilliant. Now go and create something amazing. I’ve got a nemesis to annoy. Love you!’
The screen went dark.
Sophie shook her head. Edie, what would I do without you?
She got up, stretched and got a glass of water. Her friend was right – she was the structure. She’d just need to move the pieces she had around, figuring out how she wanted to present the story, and—
Someone was knocking at her door. Sophie peeked through the peephole, assuming she’d see her son or Manny, but was surprised to see Mike. She unlocked the door and opened it, a smile on her face.
Which quickly died. Mike looked . . . well, handsome. He was always attractive. But now he also seemed unhappy. She opened the door wider, ushering him in. ‘What happened? What’s going on?’
Mike stood in her hallway, hands on his hips, the muscle in his jaw so strained that it was ticking as he stared at the ceiling.
Sophie didn’t rush him, letting him think while she shut and locked the door. ‘Should I put the kettle on? I feel like I’ve been swimming in tea, but I’m happy to make you one if—’
‘I’m going home.’
Sophie froze. ‘You’re what?’
Mike slid a hand through his hair, stopping at his neck. ‘Home. Back to London. My job is finished. I fly out tomorrow.’ Each sentence was clipped, giving her the impression of someone ripping off a plaster to try to lessen the pain.
Everything inside Sophie suddenly dropped down like she was in a broken lift, a nerve-rattling swoop and then a freeze while you waited to see if it would go back up or keep going down. ‘I thought you still had two weeks?’
‘Larry, who is a nice man and does not deserve to be thrown to the piranhas, no matter what my imagination says, worked miracles so I could get back to London.’ Mike rubbed his hands over his face, his eyes hollow.
‘Oh.’ What else could she say to that? They’d both known this was coming, she just thought she’d have more time to prepare. ‘Is this the part where you say, “Maybe this is for the best, a clean break” or some nonsense like that? Because fair warning, if you do, I might stab you with a fork.’
He looked at her, crushed. ‘No. No , Sophie.’ He moved towards her then, pulling her into his arms. ‘There’s no direction I can take to approach this situation where I come back with anything approaching the phrase “for the best”. This is, in fact, shit.’ He squeezed her tight, rocking her in his arms. ‘Absolute shit. Fucking Larry .’
She laughed and they both ignored that it sounded slightly damp. She stepped away from him then, turning so she could wipe her eyes. When she turned back around, Mike was examining the table that held her laptop, notes and half-drunk cup of tea.
‘How’s it going?’
‘Mildly terrible,’ she said. ‘But Edie had some good suggestions.’ She sniffed. ‘Mike, what if—’
Mike cut her off. ‘The only thing I want you to say next is, “What if I look you up when I get back to London?” ’ He tipped his chin at the table. ‘Because as far as I’m concerned, you’re where you need to be. You’ve worked really hard, Sophie. You deserve this. Don’t toss it in the bin just for me.’
‘Quite an ego on you,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood, because he was right: for a brief, frenzied moment, that had been what she’d been about to suggest. ‘I was going to say, “What if I make that cup of tea now?” ’
He laughed and it didn’t sound any better than her laugh had a moment before. ‘I don’t want a cup of tea.’
Sophie tugged at his hands, leading him back to the bedroom. ‘That’s okay. I’ve got a better idea.’ She felt hollow inside, already feeling like Mike was slipping away from her. But what could she do, ask him to stay? He had a job. Family. A home. No, she couldn’t ask it of him. But this . . . she could do this.
Mike followed her into the bedroom, standing docilely as she stripped away every stitch of his clothing. She couldn’t find the words she needed, not this time, so she did her best to tell him through touch.
Stay. Just . . . stay.
A long time later, Sophie lay naked in his arms, head against his chest, as he dozed. The evening light filtered in through the window, and she thought about how much her heart was breaking and what that meant. It wasn’t a thought she wanted to dwell on, especially after the way Mike had made love to her, each kiss, each touch, slow and thorough, like he’d been saying goodbye to every inch of her skin. She thought that maybe he, too, had been at a loss for words and was doing the best he could to say what he needed to say.
Like he thought he’d never see her again.
Mike stroked her hair, and she closed her eyes tight, not wanting to cry. ‘I can hear the wheels turning in your head again.’
She felt too sad to laugh. ‘Is this why you cancelled on me yesterday?’
‘Kind of. I was trying to wrap everything up for Larry and it took longer than I wanted or expected. I didn’t get out of there until after eight.’
And he hadn’t come straight to her. Probably hadn’t wanted to drag the goodbyes out. Well, that quite clearly told her where she stood, didn’t it?
‘What time’s your flight tomorrow?’
‘Six in the morning.’
He likely wouldn’t be staying at hers tonight, then. Still, she found herself asking anyway. ‘Lot to do back at the flat?’
‘No, I got most of it done before I came over. I just need to go and get my bag and then head to the airport. Until then . . .’ He traced her jaw, lifting her face up to his. ‘Can I stay here? With you?’
She should say no. It hurt and there really was something about drawing these things out. But she didn’t want to say no, so she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t say anything. She kissed him instead, telling him again without words how much she wished he’d stay. That for the first time in a long time, someone would choose her.
But if he heard her, it didn’t stop him from walking out of the door.