Chapter 19 #2
Over the next few days, Avery’s phone practically never stopped buzzing with calls and texts from Pete.
It buzzed while she got drinks with Morgan at a new restaurant in Chinatown and while she was high on her couch watching TV.
It even buzzed at work while she was once again writing social copy about Metropolitan’s coverage of the Dave Moore case, because yet another actress had accused him of sexual assault, and this time it happened only a year ago, and it took everything in Avery not to chuck her laptop as well as herself out the eighteenth floor window of her office building.
The buzzing became so unbearably constant, so mind-numbingly irritating, that she resorted to leaving her phone at home in the mornings before work and putting it in another room when she slept.
Because now what explanation was she going to give Pete?
He knew she liked sex. It was completely out of character for her to interrupt it.
Had Pete never fucked her in her forbidden position before? She supposed not.
And besides, no excuse would justify screaming in Pete’s face and kicking him out of her apartment with no regard for his feelings.
Who did that to someone they cared about?
Avery wasn’t cut out for real intimacy. She didn’t know how to be honest about what was going on with her.
All she knew was how to yell at a man who only ever adored her and how to cut off all contact with him.
How to act like they’d never known each other at all.
She thought about all of this on her way home from work several days later. She’d just rounded the corner onto her street, fantasizing about the sleeve of Oreos she was going to shove down her gullet, when she stopped in her tracks.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
Pete glanced up at her from his spot sitting on the stoop of her apartment building, his forearms resting on his knees. He laced his fingers together. “I’m very serious.” His voice was kind but resolved, like this confrontation was happening whether she wanted it to or not.
Avery shook her head in disbelief. “How long have you been sitting here?”
“As long as it takes.”
Avery shoved her way past him to jimmy her key into her front door. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t do this to himself.
Pete stood up. “You need to talk to me,” he insisted.
“I don’t need to do anything.”
“Well, you should.”
Avery stormed up the stairs while Pete trailed behind.
She was unable to speak to him but also unable to tell him to stop following her.
She was ignoring him for his own sake, so that he’d go find someone who wasn’t as complicated, because that would undoubtedly make him happier.
But he kept following her, up the five treacherous flights of stairs to her apartment.
She briefly met his eye as she opened her door. Christ. If he wanted to risk being the target of another one of her outbursts, fine. He knew what she was about, and this was his decision as an adult man to move forward with her anyway.
She put her work tote down on the floor in her apartment and headed to the kitchen, where she took out a bottle of wine and two glasses.
She poured some wine into each glass, the glug glug glug amplified in their silence.
Then she slid a glass across the counter toward Pete.
It was a small consolation, but she didn’t know where else to start.
Pete took a sip while staring at her over the rim. Avery stared right back. There was no way Avery was speaking first. He wanted this, so he was going to speak.
“What happened the other day?” he asked.
Avery heaved a frustrated sigh. She tried to keep him away, and now she’d have to lie to him. He asked for this. “It was nothing. I was in pain, and I asked you to stop, and you didn’t hear me. That’s it.”
“But you puked after. And screamed at me to leave.”
Avery lifted her hands in the air in a dramatic shrug. “It was a lot of pain.”
Pete made a concerned face. “That much?”
“I guess. ” Avery sat down at the kitchen table and looked straight ahead, sipping her wine. She could feel Pete staring at her, waiting for more. “It’s—it’s normal for sex to hurt from behind, okay? You get deep in there.”
Pete sat down beside her, his eyes soft. “Well, are you still in pain? Were you bleeding?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure? If the pain was that bad, maybe there’s something else goi—”
“No.” Avery put her hand up to stop him. “I feel a lot better now. This has happened before.” Avery’s back pricked with sweat.
Pete chuckled nervously. “Well I obviously don’t want to hear about that.”
She whipped her head to glare at him. Absolutely nothing about this was funny. “What? Are you referring to me sleeping with other guys? You know you’re not the only guy I’ve fucked, right?”
“Jesus, Avery.” Pete massaged his temples. “I know that. I was teasing.”
Avery twisted the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. She was such an asshole. And yet, he still wanted her. He still wanted this asshole. She didn’t understand it, not even a little, but it made her happy all the same.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Pete said. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”
Avery stared out the window to avoid making eye contact. She felt tears brimming and wiped them away before they fell down her cheeks. Her body was betraying her so much lately, revealing all of her secrets.
“It’s fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “Can we not talk about it anymore? I’m sorry for not answering your texts. Thanks for coming over.”
Pete searched her face. He scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her, keeping his worried gaze locked on hers. “Am I still invited to Colorado?”
Avery sighed into his embrace, then rested her head on his shoulder so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Yes, you’re still invited to Colorado.”
Pete gave her a gentle squeeze. She could tell there was more he wanted to talk about, more he wanted to ask about what happened. But she was putting a stop to this conversation. And that was that.
Avery sat on a bench across from a brightly lit three-way mirror at Kleinfeld for Morgan’s dress fitting and stared at her phone.
She and Pete hadn’t spoken much since their conversation in her kitchen last weekend.
Rationally, she knew he sometimes got slammed at work and couldn’t text a lot during the week, but her insecure side figured the tables officially turned, that now he was done with her.
She even had evidence: Yesterday, he sent her a Snapchat of a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs that he made “from scratch,” according to the caption.
Avery responded with , looks so good. you gotta make that for me!
He wrote back: Ha I will. And then nothing else.
It was driving her crazy. That period? Brutal.
That “ha”? So much less easygoing than “haha” or “lol.”
Morgan emerged from behind the changing curtain in her beautiful white gown with a big, openmouthed smile. She looked perfect.
But all Avery could muster was a flat “You look great.”
Morgan grabbed a handful of the fabric on her skirt and flipped it over a few times to examine the shimmer.
Then she smoothed down the bodice and sucked in her flat stomach, making her round, perky boobs pop out of the top in a demure-but-sexy kind of way.
Avery wasn’t in the mood to do this. She knew Morgan wasn’t genuinely rubbing her beauty and joy in Avery’s face, but that was what it felt like, and she wanted a second to indulge in some self-pity.
Was that so much to ask, after everything she’d already put herself through for this wedding?
“I can’t gain a pound, ” Morgan said urgently. “You need to pry every slice of pizza out of my hands.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Avery, whose nose was buried in her phone, refreshing Pete’s text message window and losing hope as no new white bubbles entered the screen.
“Hey, did you hear me?” Morgan called out, a little louder. “I said you need to eat pizza for me.”
Avery looked up. “Oh. Sorry. Don’t worry, I will.”
Morgan went back to admiring herself in the mirror. “I just want to feel beautiful on that day, you know? It sounds so lame to say that out loud …”
A few beats of silence passed. Morgan looked at Avery through the mirror, and it was only when Avery caught her eye that she realized she hadn’t replied.
“You will be beautiful,” Avery said in a voice she hoped was convincing and present enough. But she felt so terribly far away. “I promise. You always are. Even if you gain multiple pounds.”
Morgan’s mouth pressed into a line. She took a beat before saying, “Were you able to mail back the bridesmaids dresses, by the way?”
“Yeah, mine are all set. I know Blair’s pissed that she had to carry all those boxes back to UPS, but she only had four so she can relax.” Avery didn’t have the energy to filter herself. Nothing seemed as big of a deal as whether her worst fear that she was too broken for Pete was coming true.
Morgan raised a brow. “I mean, sure. But I agree that it was annoying and could’ve been avoided.”
Avery softened and met Morgan’s eye. She put her phone down. She wasn’t being fair. The fact that she’d messed up the bridesmaids dresses order was a huge deal, and she knew it.
“I know,” she said. “You’re right. I really am so sorry.”
Morgan’s face remained neutral. “Whatever.”
Some minutes later—Avery had no idea how many—Morgan materialized fully dressed in her cropped jeans and white T-shirt.
Avery hadn’t even realized she’d started changing.
She could really use a cigarette. She dug through her purse to find one as she followed Morgan out of Kleinfeld, but she must’ve left her pack at home because she came up empty.
Her spirits brightened when she spotted a Halal cart across the street.
Caffeine would suffice in place of nicotine.
“Thank God,” Avery said after she and Morgan each bought a cup. She lifted her drink to her nose to let the nutty, earthy vapors revitalize her.
“Cart coffee is so underrated,” Morgan said. “Even Blair, who you know is bougie about her coffee, thought it was great when I introduced it to her last week.”
Avery paused taking a sip. “She was here again ?”
“Yeah, visiting Noah. Those two are so in love. I wouldn’t be surprised if they get engaged next.”
A heavy, drowning sadness washed over Avery. Noah and Blair were in love, and Avery and Pete were … well, who even knew?
“Hey, are you okay?” Morgan asked. “Today was supposed to be fun but you’ve been out of it all morning. Kinda killing the vibe.”
Avery stared down at the sidewalk, observing the mosaic of cracks and fossilized pieces of chewing gum etched into the concrete.
The chipped burgundy polish on her fingernails caught her eye.
A disgusting manicure: something else to add to her list of things to hate about herself.
She glanced at Morgan’s nails, painted a neat pale pink. Essie Ballet Slippers.
She stopped walking. “Can I have a hug?”
Morgan tilted her head in confusion but stopped, too. “You want a hug?”
Avery nodded. If things continued the way they were now, with Morgan being pissed and Pete being distant and Noah on the fast track toward his own happily ever after, these last few months until the wedding were going to wear her down to nothing.
“Of course you can get a hug,” Morgan said. She held her arms out. Her citrus perfume wafted toward Avery in a way that made her want to cry, so she did. She did her best to hide her tears from Morgan, not wanting to ruin the day more than she already had. “Is everything okay?”
Avery sniffled with her cheek pressed against Morgan’s chest. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t. And she was getting really, really tired of faking it.