Chapter Thirty-Five
Back in the city, Addison felt immediately happy to be home. Happy to greet her doorman, to rustle through weeks of mail, and to be among her own things.
She added a layer of glittery gold shadow to her usual basic daytime makeup in order to distract from the remaining sadness in her eyes. She had yet to hear word one from Ben, and being ghosted by him was a lot to bear. She was starting to feel as if she had imagined it all until his words—I can’t believe this—ran through her head. She thought about her mother’s favorite piece of advice: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time,” and it confused her even more. In her heart, she knew Ben wasn’t a bad guy—maybe just a bad guy to start a relationship with. Her eyes threatened to well up and ruin her makeup, so she changed the subject on herself.
“Hey, Siri. Play Beyoncé’s ‘Best Thing I Never Had’!”
The interview that afternoon was flawless, and it was obvious from the first line spoken—“Addison Irwin, finally!”—that it was just a formality. If she wanted the job, it was hers. And while the whole exercise filled her with pride and confidence, once in the privacy of the elevator, she found herself gnawing on her thumbnail again. She was suddenly wistful regarding everything she would be giving up if she were to accept an offer.
The strap on her shoe pinched at her heel. She loosened it.
The bare feet had sure felt good.
The sculpting had felt good; the meditation had felt good; the ocean had felt good; and the love, the love had felt great. Even if the latter had been in her imagination, there was no denying how it made her feel. She thought of a prophetic meme she had read on Instagram that morning.
“It only takes one decision to change the entire direction of your life.”
She couldn’t wait to monopolize the conversation at dinner that night. She knew she would have to wrestle it away from Kizzy, with her “out with the old, in with the new” shenanigans, but she was in desperate need of all kinds of advice.
She predicted that each of her BFFs would listen to her options, toe the feminist line, and propose that she should accept the forthcoming offer, sell the house, and throw not even a backward glance in Bad Ben Morse’s direction ever again. The last to arrive, she sat down at the table, ordered a gin martini, and presented her case. They went at her laundry list of issues—starting with the opportunities with both Ogilvy and CC Ng.
“Being that this is my department, can I go first?” Kizzy asked, in full headhunter mode.
Everyone agreed.
“I have been fielding offers to poach you from Silas and Grant for years, so let’s just say—I’m invested in this career of yours. And yes, a generous offer from Ogilvy is as good as done. But I watched you with that clay and I thought it was remarkable. I mean, you all should have seen her. It was like everything was connected to her hands: her heart, her mind, her image.”
Pru wasn’t having it.
“That’s all fine and good, but unless she’s going to relocate to somewhere like Portland, I don’t see her supporting herself, here, as a potter!”
“She’s not a potter, she’s a sculptor,” Lisa said sharply, adding emphasis to the word.
“A ceramicist?” Kizzy corrected.
“I’m not any of those things,” Addison protested. “Yes, Kizzy is right that I loved it, but it’s not a job. At least not yet.”
“Well, it will never be if you go back to advertising full-time and let them suck the life out of you again. What do you think about asking for more time to explore the other option? It’s such an incredible opportunity to be in a CC Ng show,” Lisa fired back. “Or maybe wait for the next offer?” She turned to Kizzy for backup. “She got the first job you sent her on. Can we assume there will be others?”
“Well, not as prestigious maybe, but it’s safe to say—yes.”
“That’s a good idea. And selling the house will let you afford to try out sculpting!” Lisa added. It was obvious where her head was.
“Not so fast. Why are you so quick to jump on the first offer for the house?” Pru asked.
“I think that has something to do with the guy next door,” Kizzy quietly interjected.
“I agree with number three on your list—not looking back in Bad Ben Morse’s direction, but I want to hear all the terms for the job and the house.” Pru had always been the most logical of the four of them.
“That’s fair, “Addison agreed.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t agree with number three,” Kizzy insisted.
She was so obviously love spoiled right now, even while going through a divorce. Addison questioned her reliability on the issue.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Kizzy,” she said, “but I’m not sure you’re that levelheaded about matters of the heart right now.”
“I hear you, but I’m not basing my opinion on my own thing. I’m basing it on yours. Before Ben walked out that morning, what were you feeling for him?”
The question took Addison aback when she was leaning toward moving forward. She looked at Lisa for a therapist’s support.
“Just answer her. You shouldn’t sweep your feelings under the rug.”
“I may have been falling for him,” Addison began. They all shot her a look of doubt. It was impossible to deny that she loved him. “OK, I fell for him. Hard. It’s not easy to explain, because his whole up-and-down vibe is the opposite of anything I usually go for.”
Lisa mixed a cough with the word “boring,” and everyone but Addison laughed.
“The Ben Morse who came to Montauk was already completely in love with you. I’m sure of it,” said Kizzy. “His face, when he saw that I was with Terrence, was indescribable. I’ve never seen someone so happy to see me in all my life.”
“Wow, you described it pretty well,” Lisa said, with a hint of longing.
“I thought he was kind of jerky, honestly. Not a fan,” Pru admitted.
“He’s not a jerk. He’s amazing!” Addison jumped in, realizing she had switched right into defending him.
“I’m not talking about sex. I’ve read his books and I doubt someone could make up all of that without a good amount of carnal knowledge,” said Pru. “But being good in bed does not make a good mate.”
Addison surprised herself, becoming over-the-top protective. “He’s good out of bed too. And he’s funny, and caring, and I could tell from the way he treats his dog that he would make a great dad. He’s scared, is all. I scared him. He lost his wife!”
She knocked back the rest of her drink in one huffy gulp.
“Look at that, you answered your own question. The first guy we have ever heard you passionate about, and you ran away as soon as it got hard,” Lisa said.
“I didn’t run away. He ran away.”
“Well, if you care about him so much, maybe you should be waiting for him when he returns,” said Kizzy.
Addison found it a bit rich, given the circumstances of her own love life.
“I bet the man I saw in Montauk, whose whole face lit up when he spoke about you, is working through his shit and coming back. If you give him the chance.”
Suddenly, Addison pictured Ben and Sally knocking on her door at the beach, waiting for no one to answer, and walking home with their tails between their legs. It broke her, totally broke her.
“What time is it?” she asked, not even waiting for an answer.
She barely made the ten thirty boat.
Addison took off her heels and ran to her street in full third-act rom-com mode. She waited till she’d reached the corner ball field to stop to catch her breath so that she wouldn’t walk in like a hot mess.
The street was asleep—literally every house was dark. She didn’t care. There was no way she was waiting until morning. She looked at her watch. It was 11:11 p.m. She made a wish before knocking.