Chapter 6
6
After Claire, Graham, and Trudy depart, Antoine holds a brief meeting to sketch out a timeline for the next four months. I try my best to focus, but this morning’s brain-melting turn of events make it a near-impossible task. Antoine’s words roll past me in an indiscernible jumble, drowned out by the roar of my own panicky thoughts.
When the meeting ends, Asha offers to take me out for a celebratory lunch, her excitement for my big opportunity evident. In a panic, I make a vague gesture toward my stomach and ask for a rain check. Her expression is clouded with a mixture of disappointment and confusion as I bolt through the conference room doors, yelling over my shoulder that I’ll be back in thirty minutes to no one in particular.
I feel terrible shutting Asha out, especially since part of me is desperate to confess everything over a bottle of sauvignon blanc. She’s always been a big-sister figure, and right now, I am in desperate need of big-sister advice. Besides, how the hell am I going to make it through the next four months if I don’t tell someone the truth?
At the same time, Asha risked her own reputation when she convinced Antoine to bring me on as an intern. Even though she’s always been there for me, I want her to start thinking of me as a colleague, not just her best friend’s impetuous little sister. Clueing her in on this mess won’t help with that situation one bit. Plus, if I tell her the truth, I don’t just run the risk of her judgment; my future at the company is also on the line. I’ve sacrificed so much to start over as an event planner, and a conflict of interest as big as this could ruin everything. The last thing I need is to let some guy torpedo everything I’ve worked for.
Because at the end of the day, that’s all Graham is. Just a random guy I spent one night with eight years ago. It’s not like we have a whole history together beyond that. He means nothing to me.
Except.
I bite down on my bottom lip, forcing myself to mentally omit the shared tattoo. I really need to stop romanticizing that night in London. Our matching tattoos are the result of a drunken dare, not some forged, unbreakable bond. The sooner I can drill that into my brain, the better off I’ll be.
Still, a situation of this magnitude requires immediate backup. The minute I step out onto the street, I whip out my phone and fire off a text to my two best friends.
9–1–1. Need to schedule a FaceTime circa right the fuck now.
I’ve barely hit “send” before the phone starts vibrating. It’s Chloe. Her best and worst trait is that her cell phone is always in her hands. At least in this instance, it’s working in my favor. I answer immediately.
“Hey,” she says. “I texted Lexi too. Hopefully she’s around.” She squints at the screen, and I can tell I’ve interrupted something.
“What are you working on?” I ask, as I head toward my car. I don’t have a destination in mind, but this is not a conversation I’m comfortable having in public. Especially not in the city I grew up in, where someone always seems to be listening.
“Just trying to blur out the details of some dude’s watch with a photo editing app. It’s got a distinctive face, which obviously detracts from his anonymity.”
In addition to her day job as a publicist, Chloe’s recently picked up a side gig of soft-launching relationships on social media. This basically entails posting photos on her client’s Instagram stories that reveal a sliver of the person they’re dating without showing their face. It’s hugely helpful for celebrity clients who want to acknowledge their partner on social media without forsaking their privacy. She also works with a fair number of non-celebrities, mostly women in their twenties who want to appease their anxious, grandchild-thirsty parents without forking over too many details on the family group chat.
My mind drifts to the distinctive look of Graham’s watch. It’s the type of personal detail Chloe would have to blur if he were a client. It looked like an antique, the face yellowing and the leather scuffed, and I wonder fleetingly if it belonged to his grandfather. Maybe he wears the family heirloom to feel closer to him. Graham seems like the type to do something like that.
FFS. Why am I romanticizing this man? I need to shut down this line of thinking immediately.
A moment later, Lexi’s face fills the screen, and I spot her fiancé, Jake, in the background, slurping from what appears to be a bowl of matzah ball soup. So many people envy Lexi for scoring a handsome rock star like Jake, but Jake knows he’s the lucky one locking down my ridiculously talented best friend.
“Hey, Al,” Lexi says. “Is it okay that Jake is here?”
“Of course,” I say. I know she’d tell him to get lost if I asked her to, but I’m also pretty sure these two would die if they spent more than ten minutes away from each other, and I’ve got enough problems already. The last thing I need is lovebird blood on my hands.
I’ve reached my car now. Having determined that I’m too rattled to drive anywhere, I slip into the front seat and slam the door behind me.
“Okay, what’s up?” Chloe says. Lexi nods to confirm I’ve also got their full attention.
“So, remember I told you about that time I got matching tattoos with a British guy I met during my study abroad semester?”
“Legend of the Tattoo Twin? Of course we remember,” Chloe says. “You tell this story every time you exceed your tequila safe zone.”
I sigh. The best thing about close friends is that they know all your secrets. But the worst thing about close friends is that they know all your secrets.
“Well, last Friday, I ran into him at the coffee shop by my office.”
Lexi lets out a little squeal.
“Ohmigod!” she gushes. “Graham, right? What was that like? Did he remember you? Is he still hot?”
“He’s definitely still hot,” I confirm. “And still grumpy, but like in a sexy way?”
“Like Heath Ledger’s character in 10 Things I Hate About You, ” Jake offers brightly.
I roll my eyes. Just when you think Jake can’t be more likable, he’ll remind you that he’s also a closet rom-com connoisseur.
“Did he remember you?” Chloe asks.
“Oh, he remembered me,” I grumbled. “We went out for drinks, and walked around the city, and made googly eyes at each other in a charming bookshop. It was basically a fucking Hallmark movie.”
Lexi squeals again. Even Chloe is smiling, seemingly oblivious to my sardonic tone.
“Oh, I’m not done,” I say, holding up a hand. “We got a new client a few weeks ago, and this morning, we had our first meeting with the groom. Who turned out to be tall, handsome, and British. ”
“Wow, what a coincidence!” Lexi says. “Two Brits in one week. What are the odds of that? You don’t meet too many English people in Baltimore.”
I level my gaze at her meaningfully, as if to say, get there faster. She goes still as the realization hits her and her mouth drops open.
“No fucking way,” she breathes.
I yank open my glove box, extracting the emergency bag of Doritos I keep inside.
“That’s right,” I confirm as I shovel a handful of Cool Ranch into my face. “Of all the offices in all the towns in all the world, Graham Wyler walks into mine. And now I’m going to have to plan his wedding, while pretending we’re complete strangers who don’t have matching tattoos and have never seen each other’s genitals. Oh, and I forgot to mention: my entire career at the company hinges on how this event goes. My boss told me if it goes well, he’ll promote me to assistant planner. Which was basically my entire reason for moving home to begin with.”
My friends go silent as the weight of the stakes settle in.
“I’ll get the wine,” Jake says after a moment, before disappearing off screen.
“But… if Graham’s engaged,” Lexi says slowly. “Why would he go on a date with you?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” I grumble. “He claims it wasn’t a date. Just two acquaintances catching up. Which is complete BS. Sparks were flying. And he almost kissed me.”
But even as I say the words, I’m second-guessing myself. Was there really chemistry between us, or was it just wishful thinking? Am I just projecting my own lingering feelings onto someone who doesn’t share them?
“Wait, back up for a second,” Chloe continues. “You ran into this guy three days ago? Why are we just now hearing about it?”
I bite my bottom lip, contemplating what to say next. Chloe is right; it is weird that something this major happened in my life, and I didn’t immediately tell the two of them.
The truth is, after running into Graham, I was afraid to voice my excitement to the two people who know me best. Because if it didn’t work out, their shared disappointment would be reverberated right back at me. And now, that’s exactly what’s happened.
Things were different a year ago, when the three of us were single in the city together, swapping bad-date war stories over happy hour margaritas. But the two of them have both found love and satisfying careers, while I’m still the messy single friend, once again starting over and struggling to find herself. Part of me is mortified to admit that after all the shitty relationships they supported me through, this thing with Graham was just another nonstarter. I feel an unspoken pressure to find happiness like they have, and now I’ve let all of us down. Again.
“You guys have been busy,” I say finally. “You both have a lot going on and I didn’t want to bug you.”
“Ali,” Lexi says softly. “How could you say that? We are never, ever too busy for you.”
Warmth spreads across my chest. Deep down, I know how much these two women care about me. I never should have let my insecurities talk me into shutting them out.
“Well, that’s good to hear, because right now, I’m teetering on the edge of a panic attack.”
“Okay, take a breath,” Chloe says in that even, soothing voice that’s probably incredibly effective with clients. Based on the way my pulse starts to regulate, it’s safe to say that it works on me too.
“Everything will be okay, Ali. Let’s talk this out.”
I sigh. “Why can’t things ever be easy? It’s my first major gig and I’m already being sabotaged. Is it such an ask for things to go according to plan?”
“ I never planned on someone like you! ” Jake’s voice rings out in the background.
Chloe shakes her head. “Guess you’ve been forcing Jake to watch Newsies. ”
“‘Forced’ is not the word I’d use,” Lexi protests. “He loves it! And like, how amazing would it be if he played Jack Kelly in his next limited Broadway run?”
“You couldn’t handle it,” I say. “Your vagina would literally explode.”
Jake’s ridiculously handsome face fills the screen again, and he flashes his signature dimple. If I hadn’t gotten to know him so well over the past year, I think my own vag would be in danger of spontaneous combustion.
“May I offer a suggestion?” he asks. Under normal circumstances, the thought of unsolicited male input would push me over the edge right now. But it’s impossible to be annoyed with Jake, especially when he turns on that charming Southern drawl.
“What if you just told the bride the truth?” he continues. “Maybe then you’d mutually agree to put someone else on the account?”
“Oh, Jake. You sweet, na?ve buttercup,” I sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey Claire, funny story. Turns out we’re actually shlong sisters! That’s right… I banged your fiancé, right after we got matching tattoos! What a wild night that was. Anyway, have you guys settled on a honeymoon destination yet?’”
Jake’s mouth falls open, but before he can say anything, Lexi shoves him out of the screen. She stares at me wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, you slept with this guy!”
I suppress an eye roll. Lexi’s dating experience before she met Jake was virtually nonexistent and the bar for shocking her is embarrassingly low.
“It was my semester abroad. Shagging London locals was part of the curriculum,” I explain. “Besides, everyone knows that if you’re going to do something as romantic as getting matching tattoos with a stranger, ending the night with sex is obligatory. And it wasn’t like I was ever going to see him again. What are the odds that eight years later, I’d be planning his wedding?”
Chloe is chewing on her bottom lip. “What’s the bride like?” she asks.
“Claire? She’s basically the coolest girl alive. Gorgeous, down to earth, killer sense of humor. In another life, we’d totally be friends.”
Even though we hardly know each other, Claire and I clicked immediately, and I can’t stomach the idea of dropping this bomb on her. And while I may be impulsive, I’m not the kind of person who would deliberately hurt someone. The mere thought of it sends my heart lurching.
Lexi slips a thumbnail past her lips, which she only does when she’s majorly stressed. I’m temporarily blinded by the luster of her oval-cut diamond ring.
“What are you going to do?” she asks quietly.
I blow out a sigh. “I don’t know. I could step back from this account, and hope that Antoine considers giving me another chance down the line. It’ll mean a few more months of living with my two boomer roommates and their fridge full of expired condiments, but I can’t see any other way out.”
My heart turns heavy at the thought. Not just because turning down this opportunity means putting my goals on the back burner, but also because it would disappoint Antoine. I hate the idea of letting him down. The man’s kind of my hero.
Chloe’s mouth sets in a hard line. “No,” she says simply.
I raise my eyebrows. “No?”
“No,” she says again, more definitively this time. “You love event planning. And the Ali I know would never give up on her dreams. Especially not over some guy. So, this is what you’re going to do: you’re going to put on your big girl panties and forget last weekend with Graham ever happened. And then you’re going to land this promotion.”
I nod, a renewed sense of confidence filling my chest. I let out a long breath.
“You guys are right,” I say. “This will be fine. It was a one-time issue that won’t affect my ability to do my job. I’m going to be a professional.”
“That’s right! You’ve got this,” Lexi agrees. Then her face falls a bit. “I’m sorry about the way things worked out with Graham. It sucks when the good guys turn out to be shady.”
I nod, but something about this whole mess isn’t sitting right. It’s hard to rectify the Graham I hung out with on Saturday night with the soon-to-be groom I met this morning. Especially given the way that Graham looked when I accused him of being unfaithful. As if the label stung him to his core.
Which makes sense if I think about it. The comment draws an unflattering parallel to his father. Given how adamant he was about being a better man and not following in his dad’s footsteps, it is sort of surprising that he’s gone down the very same road. It just doesn’t line up with everything else I know about him.
I shake the thought away. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about people over the years, it’s that they can always find shitty new ways to surprise you.
Except for men holding fish in their dating profile pics. Those guys are exactly who you think they are.
My sour mood builds for the rest of the week, and by the time I’m at lunch with my mom, Sarah, and Bubbie on Sunday afternoon, per our weekly tradition, it’s reached full crescendo. We’ve barely settled into our table at Goldberg’s Bagels when my mom brings up her favorite topic.
“You’ll never guess who I ran into at the Giant this morning,” she says, in that practiced casual way, as she looks at me expectantly.
“Let me see. Theodosia Burr-Alston, Aaron Burr’s long-lost daughter?”
My mother clucks her tongue. “ No. Sharon Hoffman. Brad’s mom. She was so excited when I told her you’re back in town! She asked if you were dating anyone, and I said you weren’t, and she said Brad wasn’t either, and—”
“Alright, I’ll go out with him,” I mutter. Everyone goes silent as they swing their heads toward me, shock evident on their faces. I take an enormous bite of my everything bagel with cream cheese before I have the chance to take it back. Nothing beats New York bagels, but Baltimore bagels are a close second.
My mom’s jaw literally drops. Clearly this wasn’t the answer she was expecting. To be honest, it also wasn’t the answer I was expecting to give.
“Oh! Well, great,” she says, once she’s recovered herself. “I invited Sharon to join our mah-jongg game tomorrow night. I can give her your phone number then!”
Bubbie nods her head approvingly. “One more shidduch and you’re set,” she announces through a mouthful of tuna. My mom looks pleased at this. There’s an idea in Judaism that if you make three successful shidduchim, three romantic matches that lead to marriage, you automatically go to heaven. And since my mom introduced my second cousin Arielle to her now-husband, Noah, she’s already a third of the way there.
“There you go.” I raise my bagel like I’m giving a toast. “I’m sure that’ll cancel out the crab cake you had at Pappas last weekend.”
“Shh!” my mom hisses. She presses a finger to her lips, her eyes wide with panic as she glances nervously around the room. “Do not mention the consumption of shellfish here. They’ll kick us out.”
I shrug, and slump back in my chair. Sarah is still staring at me, confusion etched across her face. Part of me is dying to clear it up by telling my big sister exactly what went down with Graham. At the same time, the last thing I’m interested in right now is telling my sister that I’ve managed to screw up, again. Besides, it’s official. The perfect man does not exist, so why not throw in the towel and give Brad a chance? After all, how bad can a date with him really be?