Chapter Thirty-Four
I woke up the next morning with my pillowcase soaked in sweat and the dress crumpled next to my bed.
My hair hurt.
The image of Charlie pulling up my dress flashed in my mind. I buried my face in the wet pillow.
My phone buzzed somewhere under the covers.
You OK this morning?
I scrolled up to read the last few texts we’d sent at 3 a.m.
Counting the minutes until tomorrow (today?), I’d texted from the cab.
You have no idea. Text me tomorrow when you want me to come over and I’ll be there.
Night .
My face was on fire rereading our texts in the cold light of Sunday morning.
I bit my lip and tried to compose a response neutral enough to see where Charlie’s head was.
I’d finally stopped thinking and let my instincts and desires take over. I had wanted Charlie. I knew it didn’t make sense. But I wanted to feel all of it again. Starting with the weight of his knee against mine.
I laid in bed and tried to process the fear and uncertainty and desire.
The intercom buzzed, and I jumped.
“One second,” I called out to no one, grabbing my robe from the bathroom and groaning at the smudged mascara looking back at me in the mirror.
I pressed the call button. “Yes?”
“Delivery from Ralph’s for Ms. Samantha,” a familiar accent from the corner deli downstairs floated back to me. Had I placed an order in my sleep? I grabbed a few dollars from my wallet while I waited for him to come up.
I set the bag on the counter and pulled out a bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll, along with greasy, oval-shaped hash browns, a large black coffee, and a note scribbled on the deli’s order pad: called in from Charlie B. for Samantha D.
I breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Charlie showing up unannounced, even if so much of me wanted to see him again.
I took a picture of the food and texted it to him.
Much better now, thanks for asking.
I could see him typing immediately.
Good. Hope you’re not too tired today.
I ate two bites of the sandwich and went back to bed.
I woke up an hour later to my phone ringing.
“How was it?” Caroline’s voice asked against the sound of New York traffic.
“I’m basically still asleep. Can I call you later?”
“Are you hungover? What’d you guys do after?”
I paused, and she jumped back in. “I’m just at the farmers market picking up a few things. I’ll drop this stuff back at my place and come by in fifteen or so. Want to hear all about it.”
She hung up before I could say I wasn’t ready to see someone who’d already been to the farmers market. I stared at the phone as my fingers went back to Charlie’s texts. I shivered rereading them a second time.
I knew Caroline would show up even earlier than she thought, so I made the bed and zombie walked my way to the bathroom cabinet.
I reached for the Listerine and makeup remover.
I didn’t have time to shower, so I threw on yoga pants and a sweatshirt and stuffed my hair under a baseball cap.
I poured the coffee into a mug and reheated it in the microwave.
Caroline tapped on the door before she opened it, holding out a small bunch of wildflowers. “Fresh from some farm in New Jersey,” she said brightly.
“Thanks,” I said, racking my brain to remember if I owned a vase. I didn’t.
“Mason jar?” she suggested, reading my mind.
The voice in my head said, I bet she owns more than one vase.
I pulled out one of my dad’s old tomato-sauce jars from the back of a cabinet and filled it with water.
“Scissors? You should trim them first,” she instructed.
I pulled the coffee mug from the microwave. “I’d offer you some, but I’m out of coffee,” I said apologetically.
“I’m caffeinated,” she chirped.
I sat heavily on the floor.
“Sorry. Standing is more than I can handle right now.”
She plopped down, stretching her long legs in front of her. Even for a Sunday morning, Caroline was put together in a rose-pink cashmere sweater, light-wash jeans, and crisp white VEJA slip-on sneakers with no-show socks.
She looked at me humorously. “Are you going to tell me about last night? Or just stare at my outfit?”
“It’s a great outfit.”
“I do casual well.”
I sighed. “I don’t do anything well. Except for my career. That’s mostly going well.”
“So, it wasn’t a good night?”
“No, it was an amazing night. It’s just not a good morning.”
It was true. If I could compartmentalize, the night itself had been perfect.
I told her everything, realizing how good it felt to relive it. I didn’t leave out a single detail.
She clicked her tongue. “I knew there was something there. Even before I met him. Remember that brunch at Buvette?”
“I had no idea until yesterday.”
“That can’t be true.”
“Maybe I subconsciously started to notice. But we really upped the ante. It was like zero to sixty, and now I don’t know how to go back to anything in between.”
“Why do you have to? Charlie’s fantastic.”
“Because he’s not the guy to casually hook up with. I’m not ready for a Charlie in my life right now. I didn’t blow up my marriage and move to New York just to settle down again.”
“Sam, you guys made out. With a little extra. Who’s talking about settling down?”
I wrung my hands. “I crossed a line.”
“Do you know how many people hook up when they’re drunk?”
“Yeah, I do. But not with friends that they respect. Charlie means a lot to me, and I’m just carelessly gambling with our friendship.”
“Did he say that?”
“No. He’s waiting for a text to say come over and make love to me sober. Maybe.”
“Then he’s complicit in any gambling that’s happening here. You have to talk to him.”
“I need a bottle of Advil.” I rubbed my temples. “What do I do now?”
“Talk to him.”
I shook my head impatiently. “We can’t possibly start seeing each other. We share an office. That’s HR’s worst nightmare. And beyond that, I can’t just float from one relationship to the next. Not until I know who I am in this version of my life.”
“What would Charlie say?”
“I have no idea.”
“So be a grown-up and start a conversation. I bet he’s having the same freak-out as you are right now.”
“He ordered me breakfast. Seems like he’s doing fine.”
“He also went down on you in an elevator. Everything I’m hearing tells me this guy is a unicorn. You should really think about what you want, because from what I can tell, he’s every woman’s dream.”
I hugged my knees to my chest. “Last night I wanted to be with him. Like, as more than a friend.”
“So text him that.”
“It’s eleven a.m. on a Sunday. The sun is shining. The alcohol is leaving my body. I can’t text him that.”
Caroline looked at me sympathetically. “You can’t keep using alcohol as a crutch. You know how you feel. Maybe last night wouldn’t have happened without a few drinks, but it’s the morning after. And you still think you want him. Just sit with that.”
I tried to imagine having a heart-to-heart with myself.
“Sometimes I feel like I’ve been on emotional autopilot for so long, I can’t even access my own emotions, no matter how hard I try. Alcohol opens me up. I know that’s not a healthy thing to admit.”
“It’s totally healthy to admit. Less healthy not to do anything about it.”
She looked at her watch.
“Maybe we should roll the yoga dice before you guys talk. We can still make the 12:45 vinyasa.”
Three hours later, I got out of the shower to a text from Charlie asking if I wanted to have dinner and talk.
I wrapped my hair in a towel and took a bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge.
The answer to both was yes.
I carried my laptop and phone to my bed and typed a response to Charlie.
We made plans to meet for dinner at Sushi West on Hudson Street, one of the only casual sushi spots in the West Village. I tried distracting myself by tidying up the apartment. The minutes were crawling, and I couldn’t stop pacing. I threw on my coat and walked down to Bleecker Street.
The West Village was lit up with wreaths and white lights. I walked toward Pasticceria Rocco, an Italian bakery known for cannolis and sfogliatelle. I stepped in and ordered two of each, watching the teenager behind the counter place them in a white pastry box tied with red string.
I handed him a twenty-dollar bill and carried the pastries back out to Bleecker Street. I turned right to head toward Sushi West, stopping at the corner to check my phone.
“Thought that was you.”
I turned around to see Charlie. My stomach did a flip seeing his face for the first time since earlier that morning.
He nodded behind him. “I just got off at West Fourth.” He held out a CVS bag. “Your favorite.”
I pulled out strawberry Twizzlers. I laughed, realizing we’d both done the same thing to break the ice. I handed him the box.
“For you.”
We walked side by side toward Hudson Street. Charlie stopped at the next block and looked at me.
“How are you?”
I wanted to tell him that I’d spent the whole day convincing myself we’d made a mistake, but seeing him and hearing his voice was undoing all of it.
“I’m confused,” I admitted.
“Me too,” he said quickly.
He looked around. “Man, this is really the place to be this time of year. Should we just keep walking? Are you super hungry?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Walking sounds nice.”
We turned right on West Tenth Street. “This is the dream.” He marveled at the elegant brownstones with Christmas trees in the windows.
“I really think these three blocks—mine, West Tenth, and Charles Street—are the reason people move here.”
“And to find fame and fortune.”
He sat down on a brownstone step and motioned for me to join him.
“Think about all the people who spent their lives here,” he said.
“Who do you think lived in that one?” I pointed to a brownstone across the street. Perfectly frozen in time.
“Someone who really knew how to play the piano. And in their spare time, wrote great novels and all the sheet music that still gets played. And maybe even a poem or two.”
“Man or woman?”
“Both. The most prolifically artistic couple Manhattan ever saw.”
I smiled. “The toast of all the dinner parties.”
He looked at me seriously. “I don’t want to lose our friendship, Sam.”
I felt relieved thinking we were on the same page. But I also didn’t know if I could keep fighting the idea of Charlie.
I felt my breath catch in my throat. “I keep wishing we’d met after I figured out how to be happy.”
“No one really knows what’s going to make us happy. We’re just making it up as we go and drifting in the direction of people who make us feel good.”
I wished my conscious mind could drift in Charlie’s direction without overthinking all the reasons why I shouldn’t.
“Last night made me happy,” I said honestly.
“You’ve made me happy every day since I met you.”
I swallowed hard.
“I don’t want to ruin that,” I said.
“I don’t think you could.”
“But the possibility really scares me.”
He reached down for my hand.
“Let’s keep walking.”
We walked back to Bleecker and turned right, passing Magnolia Bakery and continuing toward the small park in Abingdon Square. He motioned to a bench faintly lit by a lamppost a few feet away.
“But we both feel something, right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“But something’s holding you back.”
“There’s nothing holding you back?” I asked.
“Besides the fact that you mean a lot to me, and if this implodes, we still have to sit next to each other every day?”
“Exactly.”
“Can I be totally honest?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I’m willing to risk it.”
I could hear him breathing quickly.
“And yes, I know all the ways it’s a bad idea. What if one of us gets hurt, what if you move to LA and become a big-time Hollywood lawyer and end up dating Chris Pine? What if George Brenner sweeps you off your feet? What if we end up hating each other? I’ve thought about all of it.”
“What about the fact that I’m divorced?”
“What does that have to do with us?”
“I’m not ready for you,” I said softly. “I don’t trust myself. I don’t know how to be the person I want to be when I’m in a relationship. Not yet.”
“You don’t have to know. We’ll figure it out together.”
He moved his knee closer to mine. “Maybe I’m being naive, but I can’t remember ever feeling this way about anyone.
Not even when I was infatuated with Kristen in college.
Something about you is different. I love that I can make you laugh.
I love how you go after everything you want.
I love how self-deprecating you are, even when you’re the most impressive girl at the firm. ”
He paused, considering his words carefully.
“Kissing you for the first time was unreal. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about it since you drove off in that cab. And not just the way it felt to kiss you. I—I can’t get the sound of you out of my head. I keep replaying it over and over.”
My heart was racing again. His honesty was intoxicating. Even though I was dead sober, I knew exactly what I wanted in that moment.
“Come home with me.”