In a New York Minute(56)

“Hi, honey, is this about Costco? You should pick up some snacks to bring back into the city too, of course,” she said, and the kind offer melted away most of the annoyance I’d felt building up in my chest, even though I could barely carry anything back to the city from Costco, much less fit it in my apartment.

“Yes, I can go to Costco,” I said, my voice peppy in an attempt to mask my reluctance. The only thing bothering me more than the amount of work this had turned out to be was the fact that I hadn’t been honest and just said no to her in the first place. I’d said yes to make her happy, but the result was that I was miserable. “I’ll try to get out there at ten, as long as you can pick me up at the train station.”

“I’m really excited to see you, sweetie,” she said. “You know you can stay for dinner—even spend the night too if you want.”

“I appreciate that, Mom, but I think I should just come back into the city.” I leaned against the couch, my hair sticking to the back of my neck. Even though the air-conditioning was blasting inside, it was still sticky and warm. You’d think the summer heat would make me tired, lethargic, but instead I felt jumpy, ready to crawl out of my skin.

Ever since Hayes and I had talked on his new office roof, I’d wanted to call him, text him, anything to force us to have to connect, to see each other. Instead, we’d exchanged a few polite emails with Eleanor and their assistant Tyler about building logistics and the delivery of a fridge for their office kitchen.

I’d spent a lot of time analyzing the most recent email, which he’d signed with Best, Hayes. It had sent me into a small spiral. Nothing was worse than getting an email from the person you can’t stop thinking about and having them end it with a Best. There was no way he signed his emails to Serena with Best. She probably got something like Desperate for your touch, or a GIF of an erupting volcano. As she should, I reasoned. They’re dating—she deserved all the sexual-innuendo GIFs in the world. But I was still silently pining for Hayes, and there was nothing even remotely flirty about a Best, and it made me wonder if everything I’d felt between us was just in my head.

“Okay, kiddo,” my mom said. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“’Kay. You too,” I said, feeling guilty for the relief I felt as I hung up the phone. Stretching out long on my couch, I let out a loud moan. I hadn’t seen Hayes in a few days, and now every magical, flirty interaction we’d had was starting to feel like that motorcycle dream—pure fiction, created by my brain.

My phone pinged again, but this time it was a text from Lola, a photo of the spread she’d prepped for our picnic later today. Gooey Brie, crackers, salami, grapes, cans of wine. I looked at my watch. It was almost time to head into the city to meet my friends. This would be exactly what I needed.

*



One sweaty subway ride later, I was let out into the sauna that was Midtown Manhattan in the middle of July. Cleo and Lola were already waiting for me on the corner of Fifty-Ninth and Fifth, sitting on the edge of the fountain. Cleo had a giant ratty blanket tucked under her arm, and she was using her other hand to fan her face. I waved at them and held up the bag I’d brought, containing my contributions to our feast: hummus, pita chips, and olives from Sahadi’s in Brooklyn. Lola cupped her hands to her mouth when she saw me, shouting “Woo-hoo!”

“There she finally is!” Lola said as I wandered up to them. “Our queen of Brooklyn.”

“I will never live in Manhattan. Leave me alone,” I quipped back, long accustomed to this teasing about my borough of choice. “I don’t care how annoying the trains are on the weekend.”

“Shall we?” said Cleo, rising with a stretch. We followed the winding pathway into the park, which was lush and green. Just the shade of the trees made it feel a few degrees cooler than the rest of the city. We walked along the road, up toward Sheep Meadow, where we planned on spreading out on the grass, snacking our faces off, and hanging out together until dusk.

We were standing at the crosswalk on Sixty-Fifth Street, about to head into the meadow, when a bolt of blond dashed by us. She stopped a few feet away and whipped her head around. She jogged back toward us, waving both hands excitedly.

“Oh boy,” I heard Lola say quietly. We were standing face-to-face with Serena, the woman I’d met at Hayes’s office. The woman he was “spending time with.”

“Franny!” she exclaimed. She was now directly in front of us, in black running shorts and a cropped tank top, the only thing someone could wear on this disgustingly hot day while exercising. “Serena,” she said, pointing at her chest, her smile so big it could block the sun. “I’m dating Hayes?”

Cleo let out a small “Whoa” under her breath as my heart raced, rattling around so loudly I was sure the entire city could hear it over the din of traffic and sirens that surrounded us.

“Hi,” I said with a polite nod. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I knew it was you! How’s the office coming along?” She said this with a smile on her face while jogging in place.

“Okay,” I said, still trying to process what was happening. “It’s almost done.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see it,” she said, raising a hand to her brow, which seemed to have less sweat on it than mine, despite the fact that she was the one out for a run. “Maybe we can chat sometime? I’ve been thinking of redesigning my place.”