Chapter 14 New York, New York
New York, new york
Brian lived at Fifty-second and Ninth, a half-hour walk from AJ’s apartment. It was well below freezing as she set out for the appointment he’d made with her earlier that week.
It was frigid as she hiked past gyms and rental studios and bars she’d loved in her early twenties. She could say that now, she was twenty-nine. The age her mother had been when she had AJ and Emily, which seemed like a joke. It was a perfect age to get married, not too old, not too young.
So why did AJ feel like she was being rushed?
AJ had twelve minutes to spare when she passed Hibernia, a Steelers pub two blocks from Brian’s. The TV above the bar was showing the Oscars. That had been her last drink, the Oscars.
AJ toyed with her scarf. She had a pitch meeting in the morning—she should at least see the opening monologue. Casually, AJ stepped inside.
She had not been surprised to see Noah’s name on the list of Best Actor nominees for the second year running.
The New York Times had likened his Byron performance to the majesty of a polar iceberg: Drew is both the bright brilliance dazzling above the surface and the precipitous devastation lurking just below.
“Can I get you anything?” asked the bartender.
AJ checked the time. She could be a little late. It wasn’t like she was keeping Brian from what he was surely doing: watching sports and drinking.
Beer doesn’t count, right?
“Allagash White,” said AJ, placing her money on the counter.
After Blue Con, AJ had done a full #Arho detox, blocking the forums and unfollowing the hashtags. But there was no avoiding Byron. Noah’s face had been everywhere—bus wraps, subway tunnels, taxi tops, magazine stands—always with the same knowing, brooding expression.
So when the camera found him in the crowd, AJ was surprised by how intimate it felt.
The tuxedo was back. He looked good, he always did.
And there was Allison Seabring’s dirty-blond bob on his right and Eudora’s frosted French twist on his left.
Noah’s eyes shone as he inclined his head toward his aunt.
Risa had earned her Chopt tonight; seeing them together was adorable.
Now Allison was leaning in to join their conversation, Eudora smiling at her in welcome. You only get one. AJ cringed. Eudora probably didn’t even remember saying that to her. Allison had also been nominated tonight. Maybe AJ would just stay until Best Supporting Actress.
Have you eaten? Brian texted.
Eating now, AJ texted back. Be there soon.
The Allagash was light and soothing, exactly how AJ remembered. She nursed one for the first three awards. But when Allison won, she chugged a second through her acceptance speech (“Noah, you are my rock”), then a third for good measure.
Then, she ordered a deep-dish pizza.
Food’s taking forever, sorry, read her next text.
The pizza soaked up some of the alcohol, enough for AJ to realize that it was after nine-thirty, and she was officially being a dick.
She should want to plan her wedding, to discuss it with Brian, to forge a life with him. She should not be sitting in a Hell’s Kitchen sports bar, mouthing a pizza that could double as a hockey puck, longing for a movie star who did not want her.
And yet she could not move herself off the barstool.
She powered off her phone and downed three more beers as she waited for Noah’s category.
AJ hadn’t marked time like this since the night of Patrick’s accident.
Because she knew the stakes and they were huge.
Noah couldn’t have kids. This was his legacy.
And no matter how she tried to reason with herself, she could not turn away.
It was after eleven p.m. when Best Actor was finally presented. AJ tilted forward on her stool as a clip from Byron filled the screen.
She had wanted to see the film, but she hadn’t dared; so many images of Noah would inevitably take on a life inside her head. Perhaps, a long time from now, that would no longer be a danger.
But even based on this small sample, she knew instinctively Noah had it. And she was right.
“The Oscar goes to…Noah Drew.”
He didn’t stand at first, reaching around and hugging Eudora. Then he kissed Allison’s cheek and rose to congratulate their director. With a tug on his jacket, he strode toward the stage.
The creepiest aspect of fame was how it gave away a person’s physicality. AJ knew Noah. She knew him by his movements, the long gait, the gliding hands.
And so did every other person in the world.
Noah dwarfed the podium. His face was serious, but as he felt around for his speech, he cracked a smile that changed the temperature of the dive bar where AJ was sitting.
He thanked his colleagues and team. AJ wasn’t listening to their names so much as the low, musical quality of his voice. He was everything he ought to be—humble and handsome and quietly triumphant.
“I think it goes without saying that I had a leg up in this business,” he said. “To my uncle Ezell and my aunt Dorie, for teaching me to play and for your fierce, unwavering support.” He looked up from the podium and smiled at Eudora. “Thank you.”
The camera panned to the grande dame. What a face. Her eyes glistened as she blew Noah two kisses from the audience. Back onstage, Noah folded the paper and looked into the camera.
“And to the woman in my life—you know who you are. Hopefully.” The crowd laughed. “I love you. Thank you.”
The camera cut to Allison, radiant with pride. AJ reached for her beer.
As Noah left the stage, hot tears filled her eyes, making the bottles behind the bar crinkle and fold into a skyline. She sat in suspension, awash in grief. Then she blinked and looked down at the dark polished surface of her phone screen.
Not everyone found happiness in love. This wasn’t news. Life wasn’t fair.
Even if two people did, by some miracle, reciprocate each other’s feelings—look what had happened to Patrick and Elle. Life was cruel, and random, and why should AJ expect more?
Brian was good for her. He was. Wasn’t he? AJ felt the drink grow heavy in her hand, suddenly aware that she was heading for a blackout.
Lock him down, Libby had said. She had been so sure. But did AJ want her sister’s life?
Look at Emily. Emily might never know this particular kind of closeness. AJ should be grateful.
But in that moment, AJ saw that it was Emily she most envied. Emily didn’t know what it was to deny herself. When she was sad, she cried. When she was happy, she smiled. If Emily wanted to sit in a bar and weep over someone she’d loved since she was seventeen, she damn well would.
Maybe it wasn’t even Noah AJ was crying over, but that unbroken seventeen-year-old who refused to open herself to anyone other than the person she most loved and trusted.
AJ had been coercing herself to do just that ever since, out of a desire to keep up with societal expectations and the half-articulated awareness that if she didn’t force herself to move on, she never would—because as long as there was a chance Noah might return, she would wait for him.
Brian was nothing if not a wall between her and that sad fate.
But now Noah was gone. He wasn’t coming back.
Leaving AJ truly alone with Brian. There were no clocks here, but that no longer felt hopeful. It felt empty, endless, a lifetime made of other people’s benchmarks, stretching on and on and on.
As AJ stared into her blackened phone screen, an image of her seventeen-year-old self stared back. All at once, AJ knew that if she switched on the device, that girl would vanish forever.
It was just before midnight when she let herself into Brian’s apartment. He’d cleaned up, washed-out cans lining the sink. AJ woke him.
He looked at her with tired blue eyes as she stepped forward and opened her palm. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “I tried so hard to want this,” she said, and placed the two-carat Elsa Peretti in his hand.
For a moment, Brian stared at it. Then he closed his fingers. “I know,” he said.
And he stood and held her in his arms as she cried, because he really was a good guy.