In a New York Minute(63)

My response was short, but it took me almost an hour to write what I wanted to say and hit SEND. I’d expected the feeling of the message going through to offer up some sense of relief, or calm, but instead I felt utterly terrified. What if I was too forward? Too needy? Not friendly enough? What if she decided not to respond? I had finally taken the step to connecting with this person, who would in turn connect me with parts of myself that had always been a mystery. And now I was plagued with worry about rejection, with the thought that I might not actually get to know this side of myself at all.

Anyone wanna grab pizza? Ramen? Something easy and cheap? I have a sister update, I texted Lola and Cleo. I could kill two birds with one stone tonight: fill up my stomach and fill them in about responding to Anna.

Hanging with Perrine! Lola responded. Rain check? Update us here?

Paper-grading hell, is all Cleo wrote. Rain check pls, and I want to hear everything.

Before I could respond, my email alert rang, and I frantically switched over to my inbox, assuming Anna had gotten my message and written back quickly. Instead, my heart jumped. There was a message from Hayes.

F –

Just signing off on the fridge delivery time. I can be there to meet them, no problem.



There was nothing erotic, or flirty, or sexy to it. No mention of last night, our dance, the way our bodies seemed to naturally gravitate toward each other every time we were near.

I fumed. A robot could have written this message. I was so annoyed I didn’t even notice his sign-off at first. But once I did, it was all I could see.

Can’t wait to talk soon.

—H





Chapter Eighteen

Hayes



I was standing shirtless in the bathroom, postshower, trying to shave while also eyeing my phone, waiting for another message to come through from Franny. We’d been texting, which, oddly, felt even more intimate than seeing her in person, and I’d basically glued the phone to my hand so that I’d always be ready when another message popped up. Normally, I tried to give myself some space from my devices. I always slept without my phone in my bedroom—I didn’t have much work-life balance beyond that, even though I tried—but the past few nights I’d been heading to bed with my phone in hand, eager to see what she’d written.

I was sliding the razor down my face when my phone buzzed, and I moved my hand so quickly I nicked my chin. “Ow!” I flinched. It didn’t stop me from grabbing my phone in the other hand.

So let me guess, her message said. You’re deciding between a suit and…a suit to wear tonight.

I sent back a series of emojis, a face with a tongue sticking out, and then the 100, for good measure. She was exactly right. I dabbed at the cut on my face with a tissue, and then typed.

Heads up there will be a couple reporters at the party, I texted her. Maybe we can get your business some press.

You’ve seen me in an interview, she wrote back. You sure? LOL

I sent one of those laugh-crying emojis, but once it went through it felt childish and embarrassing. Would she think that was dumb? Ugh, I was agonizing over the stupidest things these days. Any word from your sister?

Not yet, but that’s fair. It took me weeks to respond.

We’d been swapping stories about the things that were currently keeping us up at night—for her, it was her sister. Never any mention of work stuff, though I always assumed she was busy with her next project. For me, anxiety about this launch party had been brewing all week, topped with nerves about the interviews we’d scheduled and worry that it would be some sort of unmitigated social disaster. And then there was my looming Seattle trip, and the stress of trying to expand our business to the opposite coast.

The only thing I wasn’t nervous about was our office itself. Franny had pulled together a space that was warm and inviting. Most importantly, it felt like us. I’d never thought about how much I hated the gray walls of our old space, but now they felt cold and oppressive, and I couldn’t wait to be in this new world of wood, brick, and light all the time. And the best part of all, at least in my opinion, was the garden and the roof deck outside. It didn’t just feel like part of the office; it felt like a space I shared only with Franny. I was going to miss seeing her out there, laughing, hands in the soil, telling me what to do. I was getting ready to say goodbye to her, and then it dawned on me—maybe I didn’t have to.

*



“Please don’t give me that look,” I said to Eleanor as our Lyft sputtered to a stop in traffic on Eighth Avenue.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, taking a sip of her sparkling water. “You’re just uncharacteristically jumpy today. Are you nervous about the party, or because Franny’s going to be there?”

“How do you know I’m even nervous?” I snarked back, though she was, of course, right. I was nervous about all of it, really. But especially about seeing Franny.

“Well, I invited Serena, in case you want to take your turn dumping her at a party you’re hosting,” she said, a devilish gleam in her eye.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past you,” I said, knowing full well she was teasing. “Also, we left things on good terms. I actually did invite her, but she’s out of town.”

“Brave of you,” Eleanor said with an admiring look.

We stepped out in front of our new building, gliding through the lobby and up to the fourth floor, where Tyler was directing people lugging in the trays of charcuterie and cheese we’d ordered from a small catering business deep in Brooklyn.