Chapter 27
The high of the positive response Luke and I got from Francesca about the fundraiser over lunch came to a swift end when I pulled into Max’s driveway later that evening.
Resolute in my decision to end things, I nevertheless hated the idea of disappointing him.
“You can do this,” I whispered to myself as I opened the car door.
And don’t delay with pointless small talk.
When we got up to his apartment, I blurted, “I don’t think we should keep seeing each other.”
His eyes widened like he’d been slapped, and then he gave me that condescending brow furrow again. “What do you mean you don’t want to keep seeing each other?”
“I just don’t think we have very much in common,” I rushed to explain.
“And you haven’t been all that supportive about what I’ve been going through with my career.
It’s made me feel like we aren’t a great fit, after all.
” I wanted to be honest, and hopefully part on okay terms. I wasn’t planning to bring up the recycled Edward Phelps lines he used on me, even though that bothered me enough to make me more than certain breaking up was the right thing to do.
He ran a frustrated hand down his face, and his voice was laced with incredulity when he said, “Really? I take you on all these nice dates, text you constantly, invite you to the city… And now you’re dumping me?”
The condescension in his tone snapped my nervousness in half, and anger flooded in to replace it.
Where did he get off being so surprised?
Obviously, his last question was meant to be rhetorical and insulting, and I took it as such, which was probably why I threw up my hands and said, “You used your dad’s romantic lines to make me like you!
They were all copied from his books! Were any of the compliments real? ”
“Isn’t that what all women want to hear, Val? So sue me for trying to be romantic. Jesus!” He paced in front of me.
I stayed within a few feet of the door.
All women.
Tears filled my eyes when I realized all at once it wasn’t really me that he liked, but a set of assumptions he made about me.
An attractive lawyer, someone he thought he could bring to parties and client events, make her fall in love with him by showering her in compliments that all women want to hear.
Am I really that insecure? I wrapped my arms around my torso—putting up a barrier, making myself smaller.
Misinterpreting the tears, he said softly, “Hey, why don’t we work through this? I know you’re going through a rough patch, but I’m sure it’s temporary. We can stick it out.”
I shook my head and swallowed, taking a step backward toward the door. “I’m sorry, Max. I don’t want to.”
His eyes flared with anger. “Really?” He laughed darkly. “This is unbelievable, Val. Whatever. Good luck finding someone better when your life is such a mess.”
His words stung, and my eyes widened with hurt.
“Fuck, Val. I’m sorry.” He reached out, and I recoiled.
“We aren’t good together, Max. We just aren’t. I don’t regret anything; I had a great time with you this summer, but you’ll have to find what you’re looking for with someone else.”
I fled before he could try to talk me out of it again. Tears threatened as I jogged to my car. I willed them down until I was safely back at Mimi’s house.
Thank goodness Natalie’s flight was arriving in two hours.
Natalie’s black curls bounced into my face as I embraced her at the airport. Had it really been months since I’d seen her?
“I’m so happy to be here and get out of the baking concrete that is New York right now. I seriously need a summer home somewhere. And a new, fully remote job,” she jabbered as we drove to Mimi’s house.
“No kidding.”
“Sooo, how do you feel? You’re a free woman!” she said.
“Do you mean free from BigLaw or single?”
“Oh my god, right! You just broke up with him. Tell me everything.”
I relayed the whole conversation to her. She nodded and gasped, “He did not!” at one point, but otherwise listened silently until I was done.
“Your life is not a mess, Val,” she said, honing right in on the words that hurt the most. We’d parked a few minutes ago to pick up lobster rolls and a few bottles of wine to have with Mimi when we got back.
“Thanks.” I smiled at her. But I didn’t fully believe it.
I didn’t regret my decision—to leave Peters & Dowling or to break up with Max.
But his words had played on a loop in my head for the last few hours and I couldn’t help but feel there was a kernel of truth to them.
I had no real job. I was living with my grandmother, pretending to be a writer when I had no relevant experience or schooling for it.
At thirty-one with a doctorate level of education, my main source of income was babysitting.
Maybe he was right.
My life is a mess.
I buried the thoughts down as deep as I could, looked back over at Natalie, and forced a smile. I refused to let him ruin my weekend with my friend.
“Did Val tell you Luke came over and fixed my front steps the other day?” Mimi told Natalie, her eyes glittering with mischief. I knew exactly what she was trying to start.
Sure enough, Natalie’s light brown eyes whipped to my face. “No, she did not!”
I lifted my palms, fighting a sheepish grin.
The sweet, buttery lobster rolls, fizzy prosecco, and self-perpetuating conversation with two of my favorite people had broken through my sour mood, and by the time we retreated from the dining room to Mimi’s sunroom I was feeling relieved more than anything.
“That was nice of him. How’d that come about?” Natalie asked.
“I asked him to recommend a contractor or one of his guys who could do it, and he insisted on doing it himself.”
“He’s a contractor too, right? Works in construction?”
“He owns the business actually, and he has an MBA.”
Her eyes widened with glee. She tucked her legs underneath her on the couch, settling in. “Ugh, I love a white collar, blue collar man,” Natalie said. “Mmm,” she hummed like she’d taken her first bite of a delectable dessert.
I laughed at her.
“What? I am so sick of the men in New York. Maybe I’ll move here, too.”
“What does a ‘white collar, blue collar man’ even mean?” I asked, smirking. I missed her so much.
“You know exactly what I mean. Right, Mimi?”
“Mmhmm,” Mimi sang, nodding for emphasis, enabling her.
I shook my head.
“He knows his way around a spreadsheet and a toolbox. Like yes, please talk dirty to me about contracts and supply and demand while you fix my shower head.” My smile widened with every image.
This was getting oddly specific, but she was on a roll, so I didn’t dare interrupt.
“His muscles come from manual labor and not just the gym, and his hands are always a little rough.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively as she said ‘rough.’
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” I shook my head again and attempted to tame my smile as I wondered if his hands were, in fact, always a little rough.
The time he tentatively rubbed aloe into my shoulders or put his hand on my knee at the beach hadn’t been enough contact to form an opinion on the subject. I needed more data points.
“Oh, give me a break, like you haven’t thought the exact same thing since you met him.” She waved her hand in my direction dismissively.
I bit my lip but didn’t protest. She could always tell when I was lying, anyway.
Mimi the traitor said, “Val watched him from the window for most of the time.”
“You did, too!” I defended.
Mimi shrugged, completely unashamed.
Natalie erupted into giggles and tipped over on her side on the couch. I laughed too, infected by their energy—these two women I loved so much—not caring one bit that their entertainment was at the expense of my crush.
We all stayed up talking until midnight.
“I need a drink,” Natalie said.
After a day of shopping downtown, we’d come back to Mimi’s and settled in on her back deck.
She’d just finished telling me about the hospital merger she closed recently.
While she hadn’t had to put in as many hours as her outside counsel, she still needed to be available around the clock to get it done.
“I did not miss those types of deals, and I hope I don’t have to work on another one for a long, long time,” she’d said.
Her story brought back dozens of unhappy memories and a surge of relief that I wouldn’t be working on anything like that for the time being.
“Welp, when life gives you lemons…” I held her gaze.
“Make Paper Planes!”
A wave of nostalgia and a deep craving for the boozy cocktail hit me at once.
Tyler was always trying to get Natalie and me into whiskey in law school, and we didn’t like it.
His solution? Paper Planes. Bourbon mixed with Amaro Nonino, Aperol, and fresh lemon juice.
It was slightly sweet and bright and shockingly refreshing.
We raided Mimi’s well-stocked bar cart in the dining room, finding almost everything we needed. “Mimi, do you have Aperol?” Natalie called into the living room.
“Check the hutch,” she answered. An unopened orange bottle greeted us when we opened the wooden door. “I’ll have one too!”
We drank two rounds of cocktails with Mimi before she all but shooed us out the door. “You’re too young to stay in with me all night. Go out. The Wharf will be packed with young people tonight,” she’d said.
Natalie and I split one more Paper Plane to bring upstairs and sip while we got dressed. She helped herself to my closet, tossing each dress she deemed a worthy contender onto the bed.
“Oh, this. This is gorgeous.” She pulled out the green dress I wore on my first date with Max. “And the green with your eyes.” She kissed her fingertips. “But maybe a little too classy for tonight.” It returned to the closet.
I ended up in a dark purple dress with a cowl neck and two slits, one on each side of my legs. Natalie wound up in one of my go-to little black dresses that highlighted her curves perfectly. I should just give it to her.