Chapter XX
XX
Lucy
A half hour later, James and I are in the dining hall, refilling bowls of cereal. We both look like shit, but I feel some tiny modicum of hope for the first time in days.
I grin at him as he spoons Frosted Flakes into his mouth. “This is, like, our special place of honesty and overeating.”
James chuckles through a full mouth. “I like that. Especially the honesty part.”
“Great.” I lean forward. “When did you fall in love with me?”
He sets his spoon down for the first time since we arrived. “I think it honestly started the night we met.”
I feel my cheeks glow. “That was a good night.”
“It was.” His eyes are fixed on mine. “But the first time I really thought it was love was the night you gave me the idea about opening my restaurant in the house.”
I let out a guffaw. All the pieces are falling into place. “Oh my god. It was the next morning for me.”
“Really?” James seems amazed.
I nod emphatically. “That’s why you backed away. You weren’t just falling for me. You’d fallen.”
His left eyebrow arches so high it practically reaches his hairline. “Look who’s talking.”
I snort-laugh. “We’re such cowards.”
“Total cowards.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe we wasted those two weeks.”
“In my defense, I thought I might be mistaking the intensity of my orgasms for love.”
James nearly does a spit take, both delighted and embarrassed. “That night in particular was pretty amazing,” I go on, now purposefully trying to make him uncomfortable.
And it works—his ears turn red. “It was.” He manages to keep his voice low and serious. “I think the art gallery wins for intensity, but that night wins for . . . feeling.”
I like that.
The first night we spent together will go down as one of the most exhilarating, glorious nights of my life. But I think I might prefer this moment with him—cereal and all. Because now I know it’s real. Now I know it’s love.
James
“In the spirit of honesty,” I say, my shoulders involuntarily tensing, “I want to clear the air about Miriam.”
Lucy sips her water. “Miriam, the ex you didn’t tell me about?” she asks, half serious, half mocking.
“I dated her for most of high school. She’s the only person other than you that I’ve loved. And we broke up after I went to Philly for culinary school. Because of the distance.”
Lucy takes that in, not betraying any emotion. “She’s back in Newport?”
I nod.
“And she’s single?” Lucy asks.
“I’m not sure. But I think so. Nothing is happening—” I quickly add. “Or has happened. She found out I was coming back through a friend and reached out.”
Lucy nods. She lifts her spoon but doesn’t take a bite. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. “So what you’re saying is,” she says slowly, her voice low, “bitch is trying to steal my man?” Her eyes dart up to mine, and she grins.
“You’re not mad?” I ask, still a little nervous.
“I mean, no,” she says, but her voice wavers. “I obviously don’t love it.” She thinks for a moment. “She reached out to you first?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you and her will . . . ?”
I try to really consider that question, and I feel Lucy tense a little as she waits. The last thing I want to do right now—in this fragile, perfect moment—is lie. “I really don’t know,” I admit. Then it occurs to me: “Honestly, sitting here with you, it’s hard to even picture her face.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she jokes.
“There are no other girls like you.”
Lucy looks up at me, and I know she sees that I mean it.
She leans across the table, and I meet her with a kiss, both our asses hovering awkwardly above our seats. “Thank you for telling me,” she says as she sits back. “Now please don’t text her again until I leave.”
I laugh and nod. “Of course.”
Lucy
James’s admission makes me realize I have my own explaining to do. “So about the grant. And the job,” I mutter as we walk across Washington Square Park back toward my place. “I really felt like I needed to figure that out myself.” I avoid turning to face him.
I see James nodding in my peripheral vision. “I get that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me.”
I hurry to correct him. “You didn’t. I just . . . didn’t.” I fiddle with the hem of my T-shirt. “I’m used to doing things on my own.”
“What about Rebecca? Why didn’t you talk to her?”
I look down at how our feet have fallen into step as I try to process this rationally.
It’s so much easier to think when I’m not trying to hide anything.
“I was afraid she’d offer to lend me the money.
I don’t want to do that to her, and I don’t want to do that to our friendship.
Really, I don’t want to do that to myself.
” I shake my head as I try to make it make sense. “Call it pride, maybe stubbornness.”
“Who, you?” James teases, and I grin.
“I’m not, like, opposed to the idea of charity.
The grant was basically going to be charity in another form.
But it’s always been important to me to stand on my own two feet.
” I slip my hand into his. “My mom always did that. Sometimes we struggled, but she always figured it out, and I always had what I needed.”
James thinks that over, his gaze lifted to the swaying tulip-tree branches. “How do you know she never had help?”
The thought brings a furrow to my brow. “I . . . guess I don’t,” I realize.
“She didn’t really talk to me about money.
” It’s an alarming thought—and also a freeing one.
If she had taken help, I wouldn’t exactly be the first person she told.
She always projected strength, even when I knew she was going through a hard time.
I thought that was a virtue I inherited from her, but maybe it’s more complicated than that.
James turns us down Bowery, the same street he led me down the night we met.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To Rebecca’s.” He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “We need an expert.”
Even after our talk, I’m hesitant. “What will Rebecca be able to do?”
James leans his shoulder into mine. “I don’t know. But she’s smart, she knows this world, and she loves you. So let’s go see what she’s got.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re in Rebecca’s apartment, and she and James sit on her matching loveseats as I pace between them, unable to sit still.
I come clean about my situation. Rebecca doesn’t push.
She doesn’t judge. She asks follow-up questions and nods along as I give her all the information.
She’s perfect—like I should have known she would be.
When I finish listing all the avenues I’ve already explored, she leans forward.
“So wait, the firm doesn’t know about your clerkship? ”
“No. Why?”
Rebecca claps her hands on her thrifted coffee table. “That’s your answer!” Rebecca is on the edge of her seat. “You’re a more valuable hire if you do this clerkship. It’s in their interest for you to go do it.”
The fog in my head starts to clear, and the pieces fall into place. “I . . . oh my god.”
James is leaned forward now, possibly even more amped than Rebecca. “Wait,” he says. “They might actually pay Lucy’s way?”
Rebecca holds her hands out to me, palms up, like she’s serving me this idea on a platter. “They could give you an advance or some sort of loan. I mean, they could say no, but it really shouldn’t matter to them when you start if you’re off doing something that makes them look good.”
I pull her off the couch and grip her in a tight hug. “Rebecca. You brilliant minx.”
I feel her smile in my hair. “I am very minx-like.”
My mind is spinning, and I’m filled with terrifyingly high levels of hope. I’ve been grieving the loss of my clerkship alongside the loss of James for days, and now I could have them both back. If only for a moment.
James
I busy myself reheating the Szechuan leftovers Rebecca stole from my place, somehow still hungry from the stress.
Rebecca and Lucy are laid out on the floor, rehearsing what Lucy should say in her voicemail to the firm’s hiring attorney.
I’m taking my time plating a little masterpiece of distraction when I see Lucy stand and take a deep breath, her phone in hand.
“It’s time?” I ask.
She nods. “It’s time.”
We form a little circle. Even though it’s after 10 p.m., the hiring attorney picks up. “Cassie! Hi!” Lucy’s voice is unnaturally high at first, but she recovers quickly. She puts the call on speaker as she apologizes for the hour, which Cassie brushes off as no problem at all.
Then Lucy explains her situation. Rebecca keeps giving her little nods of encouragement, and I try to stay as still as possible.
Cassie congratulates Lucy on the clerkship, and Lucy eloquently lays out how she’d like to complete it before starting at the firm, but the grant she was relying on fell through—
“Oh, we can handle that,” Cassie cuts in, and all three of our jaws drop.
We barely manage to keep our cool as Cassie goes on that she’s dealt with things like this before.
Without Lucy even asking, she says she can have her signing bonus in her account in a matter of days as long as Lucy commits to a two-year contract at the firm once the clerkship is done.
“And if you think that won’t be enough—”
“No, that should be plenty!” Lucy’s eyes are shut tight as if she can’t handle this much joy. As she thanks Cassie repeatedly, Rebecca does a tiny, silent toe tap dance, and I bend over and put my hands on my knees, realizing I’ve barely taken a breath for minutes.
They’re about to hang up with promises of Docusigns and details to be worked out over email in the morning. “Just one thing,” Cassie says. “Which office would you like to work in when you get back to the States?”
My heart stops. All three of us freeze.
Lucy lifts her eyes to me. For a moment, I’m stuck.
But then a smile comes to my lips. I give her a little shrug. Like: Say the answer you want to say. The answer that’s right for you.
“The New York office,” Lucy responds.
She walks around the room as she wraps up the call, which feels like it takes an eternity. When she hangs up, her arms fall heavily to her sides. I step over to her.
“I’m so happy for you.”
Lucy sinks into me. “I’m feeling about eight thousand different things right now.”
I hold her close, and her cheek presses into my neck. “I hope at least one of those things is fucking ecstatic.” Her smiling eyes meet mine, and at the sound of a pop, we both turn.
At some point, Rebecca sneaked off and grabbed a bottle of champagne from the fridge. Pulling three stemless glasses from a cabinet, she looks over to us. “Can we please get drunk now?”