Chapter 2
TWO
The entrance to The Whitby was exactly as Leah remembered—aside from the doorman; he was new.
The greenery and the chic lighting fixtures portrayed a warm welcome.
Upon entering, the bold colours, plush furnishings, and eye-catching artwork provided Leah with a sense of familiarity.
The bar was quiet; one barman perused the space behind the bar, eagerly available to serve the guests.
She scanned the room, searching for Ariana.
She sat at the far end of the bar beneath the black rig covered in hanging wicker baskets—it was a rather impressive art structure.
She had her back to Leah, her posture perfectly upright as she briefly conversed with the barman.
Leah’s breath caught in her throat; each step closer became more hesitant than the last. Her nervous energy caused her hands to shake.
She considered turning away—her mind screamed for her to retreat—but her body refused to halt.
It was the barman who observed her first; his eyes acknowledged her presence before Ariana followed his gaze.
“Hi,” Leah said softly.
Their eyes locked. A rush of emotion washed over her—a mixture of longing, regret. . . hope. Leah tried to muster up the courage to say something else, something witty—anything at all that would ease the air of tension—but her words seemed to catch in her throat.
“Hi,” Ariana seemed surprised. Her eyes widened. She never expected Leah to come—that was clear. Now, Leah felt foolish.
“Can I get you a drink?” Ariana asked.
“Sure. I’ll take a glass of the Ventoux Blanc, please.” It was the same white wine she had the last time she visited The Whitby; she remembered it fondly.
“Good choice,” the barman smiled.
“This place, it looks. . . ” Leah eyed the room.
“Exactly the same?” Ariana finished.
“Yes, literally. It feels like forever ago that I. . . we. . . were last here, but it also sort of feels like—” Leah stopped herself.
“Like yesterday,” Ariana acknowledged.
Leah nodded.
She anticipated the situation being awkward.
What were they supposed to say?
Rehashing the past was a terrible idea. She had every intention of steering the conversation to lighter subjects: the weather, the news, maybe a new favourite movie. She tried to play it cool, but inside, she was visibly shaking with adrenaline.
“So, what are you doing in New York? Business or pleasure?” Ariana asked.
“I actually live here now.”
“Since when?” Ariana’s eyes widened; the revelation took her by surprise.
“Since about four weeks ago,” Leah countered.
“I never saw you as a New Yorker,” Ariana said.
“I guess things change.” Leah took a seat, taking the weight off her feet that she’d uncomfortably thrust into a pair of high heels one size too small. She toyed with the cardboard placemat that would soon hold her glass of wine.
“How are you finding it?”
“I’m still adjusting. I try not to get myself killed on a daily basis by oncoming traffic or a disgruntled cyclist, and it’s taken me four weeks to find the perfect juice press smoothie.”
“Four weeks isn’t bad. It took me two months to find the perfect spot, and another month after that to find the perfect oat milk latte.
Thankfully, a work colleague helped me budget, because it turned out all the ‘small’ purchases I made on a daily basis weren’t as insignificant as I thought.
Have you ever had daily Sweetgreen salads for a whole month? ”
Leah shook her head. “A lot?”
“I almost had to take a loan out to pay off my credit card bill,” Ariana laughed. “I spent a fifth of my salary that month on salads. . . a fifth!” she proclaimed. “I barely made rent.”
“You never were great at budgeting,” Leah teased.
Leah was embarrassed at the way she so casually taunted Ariana. Internally, she was yelling you have zero chill, but on the outside, she portrayed a picture of composure.
“Why were you at the fundraiser?” Leah asked.
“The firm I work for sponsored the event.”
“Who knew being a financial advisor had so many social perks,” Leah bantered.
“Well, it doesn’t normally, but I got promoted to Lead Advisor last year.”
“Congratulations!” Leah enthused. “What’s next? Partner?”
“I guess Managing Director would be the next natural step, then Partner—but I don’t know.” Ariana shrugged.
“What?” Leah quizzed.
Ariana was fresh-faced and enviably smooth-skinned—time seemed to have stood still for her. Leah watched as her lips closed around the edge of her martini glass, her frown prominent. The walls of hesitation slowly began to crumble.
“I don’t want to bore you with career talk,” Ariana admitted.
“Then why did you ask me to come here?”
It was a simple question. Ariana sat upright in her chair, one arm over the yellow leather backrest.
“I. . . wanted to talk,” Ariana admitted.
“Is there something you want to talk about?” Leah probed.
Ariana shook her head, as though having a topic of conversation in mind seemed bizarre.
“Okay. . .” Leah rolled her eyes.
Ariana laughed. “You haven’t changed.”
“What does that mean?”
“The way you roll your eyes—it’s amusing to me.”
Comically, Leah rolled them again.
“Do you remember the second trip we took to New York?” Ariana asked.
“Yes, how could I forget?” Leah said.
“Do you still have it?” Ariana rolled the leg of her satin trousers to reveal the small black smudge on the inside of her left ankle. It was the world’s tiniest, most minimalistic pizza slice tattoo. Leah ushered the strap of her high heel upwards to reveal the same, matching tattoo.
The permanent mark on their bodies had been a way of commemorating their time together. Leah had considered removing it altogether a few years prior, but unfavourable thoughts about the laser removal process caused her to reconsider—at least, that’s what she told herself.
“I still can’t believe you talked me into getting a pizza slice permanently tattooed on my body,” Leah laughed.
“I actually like it. If you squint your eyes, it sort of looks like a baby penguin sliding on its belly.”
“That’s quite the imagination you’ve got there,” Leah teased.
“Seriously, look.” Ariana lifted her ankle upwards. “There’s the penguin’s beak, its tail is the tip of the pizza, and its wing is the bit of cheese dripping off. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”
Leah could 1000% unsee the penguin. What she couldn’t unsee was Ariana’s legs. Her gaze traced the curve of her calf, the smoothness of her skin glistening underneath the soft light of the bar. There was a time when those elongated legs would wrap around Leah’s body like a work of art in motion.
“Uh-huh.”
She jolted from her trance as Ariana lost her balance, using Leah’s thigh to stop herself from falling face-first off the edge of the chair and into Leah’s lap. The hand placement caused Leah’s body to tremble.
“Sorry,” Ariana smiled nervously. “I’m a klutz.”
Leah had always thought that side of Ariana was cute—the clumsy, blunderful side of her that not many people got to witness.
Ariana was seemingly unbreakable on the surface.
She had this aura that told of a self-assured individual who knew exactly who she was and what she wanted.
Leah knew her to be that person, but she also knew her to be the playful, charismatic, dorky girl who once folded twenty-five individual pieces of paper into origami cranes so she could stealthily place one on the shoulder of every guest at her parents’ anniversary party.
“You always were,” Leah said, a nostalgic twinkle in her eye.
“You always had this way of making me feel like I could truly be myself,” she admitted, a hint of vulnerability in Ariana’s tone.
Leah chuckled softly; her gaze lingered on Ariana’s face. “I’m sure other people make you feel that way too.”
Their eyes met, and in the silence, something lingered—an understanding, a vulnerability.
Ariana’s voice softened. “I don’t know about that.”
Leah’s breath caught in her throat. What was she doing there?
In that bar, with Ariana, reminiscing as though seeing her wouldn’t bring to the surface a thousand inappropriate, unanswered questions.
The last time Leah and Ariana conversed one-on-one, she laid her feelings bare—whilst Ariana ripped any morsel of hope away, emotionally draining any positivity from Leah’s body.
She never quite found the clarity she had hoped for.
“So. . . how’s Hannah?” Leah searched for a real response in her eyes.
Ariana sat back in her chair, upright, posture perfect, as though she suddenly remembered where she was, who she was with, and the kind of exposure she was making herself susceptible to.
“She’s doing good,” Ariana smiled. “Thank you for asking.”
“Do you have any plans to tie the knot?” Leah glanced at Ariana’s wedding finger—there was no sight of a ring.
“Erm. . . we have spoken about it, but we both got promoted, and Hannah decided to start her own business, her grandparents got sick, and her brother had to stay with us for a while. . . there’s just been a lot of things happening, and there’s no rush, right?”
Was she asking Leah?
Or was she telling Leah?
It felt like a question. She counted the four different excuses in that one small explanation and became suspicious of the current trajectory of their relationship.
“I am happy,” Ariana followed up.
It was an odd thing to state at that point in their conversation. Leah had given no indication that she suspected Ariana wasn’t happy, but something prompted her to defend her well-being.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Leah smiled.
Is that what you brought me here for? Leah thought.
The situation started to feel like a pathway to gloat—or to overcompensate and portray a picture of solitude. Leah was trying to figure that out.
“Are you?” Ariana wondered.
“Yes. I’m figuring things out here, but for the most part, I’m happy,” she answered honestly.