Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(68)

“Awww,” Dylan says, rubbing Arthur’s knee.

Someone begins playing the piano.

“‘Arthur’s Theme’!” Mario shouts. “Great pick!”



I’ve never heard this song before. I’m speechless when Mikey sings about getting caught between the moon and New York City. His voice is gorgeous and my eyes water at how beautiful this is. Under this spotlight, Mikey is so endearing as he sings into the mic, “The best that you can do is fall in love.”

I push my chair back and stand.

Mario smiles up at me. “You good?”

I mutter something about the bathroom, and then I get the fuck out.

I should be happy for Arthur. He deserves this, right? He deserves a boyfriend who will deliver personal Broadway-worthy performances and surprise him just because. I could never in a million years give Arthur the kind of moment Mikey’s giving him right now.

And sure, maybe Arthur wasn’t happy when he walked into the bar tonight. Maybe he and Mikey aren’t perfect. But I speak Arthur’s language better than anyone, and I know exactly what this sort of grand gesture means to him. Whatever the two of them were going through, I’m sure it all went out the window the minute Mikey stepped onto that stage. I’m sure they’ll go home and have sex and make a bunch of big tearful love declarations.

That’s totally fine. I can have my own do-overs, too.





Chapter Twenty-Six


Arthur

Friday, June 19




Nothing about this makes sense. Mikey doesn’t do solos. He definitely doesn’t do solos while standing on chairs in Tribeca coffee shops. And yet the guy who just sang his heart out to a roomful of strangers was unquestionably my spotlight-averse boyfriend.

His sweetly nervous expression makes me want to burst into tears.

“You’re incredible,” I say, not quite meeting his eyes. I grab his hand to guide him back to the table, and even that feels like a lie.

Dylan greets us with a slow clap. “Hot damn, Sir Mikes-a-lot.”

Mario pushes his sleeve up to show us his goose bumps. “Fucking brilliant. Talk about a real, old-fashioned Hollywood grand gesture.” So then everyone starts talking about how Mario should write it into a TV show, but I stop listening pretty quickly. Mostly because Ben’s finally back from the bathroom, and his face is hijacking my brain.

“Well, speaking of Hollywood,” Mario says, giving Ben a quick side hug. “Alejo, should we tell them the big news?”

“Wait, how big? I want to prepare myself.” Dylan says. “Are we talking new Avengers movie, or is this more of a B-list—

Samantha covers his mouth with her hand. “Did it get picked up?”

Mario beams. “Ten hour-long episodes. Full fucking series order.”

Samantha smacks the table. “Oh my God! You’re a TV writer?”

“I’m a TV writer!”

Mikey’s eyes widen. “That’s incredible.”

“Congratulations,” I say, eyes flicking toward Ben. He looks a little bit dazed.

“Guess that makes it official,” says Dylan. “My Benhattan is moving to Los Bengeles.”

“Um. Yeah.” Ben smiles. “I guess I am.”

Mario nudges him. “Okay, now tell them what you have in the pipeline.”

Ben blushes. “Like, the agent guy?”

Mario grins. “You mean the agent who wants to check out The Wicked Wizard War the moment you’re done?”

“Yeah, because you and Carlos keep hyping it. Let’s see what he says when he actually reads it,” Ben says with an eye roll. But there’s no hiding the current of hope in his voice.

“He’ll love it,” I say, trying to tack on a smile. “How could he not?”

I remember the night Ben let me read his draft, how sacred that felt. At the time, it seemed like the most intimate thing you could share with a person. Your unfinished heart.

But Mario’s the one carrying Ben’s dreams over the finish line. I may have been Ben’s first draft, but Mario’s his hardcover.

I guess that’s how it goes, though. Sometimes happily ever afters aren’t about your happiness at all.

Mikey holds my hand all the way back from the subway, and I feel like more of a liar with each passing step. I don’t have a clue where to start. How does this even work when we’re not fighting? How do you break up with a guy who hasn’t done anything wrong?

“I can’t believe you found a song called ‘Arthur’s Theme,’” I blurt.

Mikey laughs a little. “I already knew it. I’ve been sitting on that one for a minute.”

Cool, cool. Good to know Mikey’s been plotting gorgeous surprises while I’ve been wrecked over Ben. Good to know I’m an actual fucking monster.

“Well, thanks,” I manage. “It was really sweet.”

“You deserve to be serenaded.”

My throat thickens. “So do you.”

“Hey. You okay?” Mikey asks.



“What? Of course! Why?”

“I don’t know. You’re so quiet. You seem lost in thought.”

“I’m—yeah, I’m fine.” I pause in front of my building, releasing Mikey’s hand to root around for my key. “Sorry. It’s just been a weird week.”