In a New York Minute(85)

I’ve never had a sister, or any siblings before. But knowing you’re out there is really bringing me some comfort tonight. I hope we get the chance to talk more soon and, who knows, maybe even meet one day.

Love,

Franny (your sister!)





Chapter Twenty-Six

Hayes



Eleanor stood with her hand on her rounded belly, eyes following me like laser beams as I walked into her new office and shut the door. She had texted me, Get in here, as soon as I’d walked in.

“I know what you’re going to ask, and I don’t want to talk about it.” My voice was hoarse, the result of not sleeping. It was impossible to avoid eye contact with her, but I could at least avoid the conversation.

“Oh, we’re going to talk about it.” She had that no-nonsense tone, which meant one thing: She wouldn’t give up on this easily.

I waved my hands in defeat. I sat down in the chair across from her desk. I had expected the way things ended with Franny to dull me, numb me, make me a shell. Instead, everything felt heightened, too bright, my senses exploding. I could feel every hair on my head, every fiber of cotton pressing against my skin. Losing Franny had only made me more aware of everything going on around me, everything without her in it.

“So on Saturday, you texted me and basically told me you had a girlfriend.” She leaned forward, elbow resting on her desk, chin in her hand.

I sighed. “I never used that word.”

“I bet you wanted to, though,” she replied, her voice all-knowing.

“And?” I replied, impatient.

“And then last night you call from a hospital in the middle of Connecticut and tell me you can’t go to Seattle because of her.”

“Yeah,” I said, like it hadn’t been a crisis I’d forced her to get out of bed and deal with in the middle of the night.

“And now you’re here hours later, in the office, and you’re flying to Seattle tonight.”

Eleanor crossed her arms on her desk and looked directly at me. “So are you going to tell me what happened, or am I just going to have to guess?”

“There’s nothing to guess about. We were maybe going to be a thing, and now we aren’t, and that’s it.”

“Maybe going to be a thing.” She repeated my words back to me.

“Not even a thing, really.” I couldn’t tell if it was a hundred degrees in here or ten. I was sweating and freezing, and kept fidgeting in my seat.

“So you were going to cancel an entire week of important meetings for ‘not even a thing’?” She was being tough, but her tone was kind. Eleanor was handling me with kid gloves, which meant she was able to tell what a mess I was no matter how much I was trying to hide it.

I ignored her. “Did you want to listen to me run through the pitch one more time? I’m not leaving for a few more hours.”

“Oh, don’t do that, Hayes.” Eleanor gave me a sad look. “You can’t just change the subject. I’ve known you long enough to know when things are more than ‘maybe a thing.’”

I sighed and shrugged. “I’m not ready to talk about it, El.”

“Well, finally, you say something you actually mean.” She eyed me again, for a beat, and then her face went soft. “I’m sorry, Hayes.”

“Me too,” I admitted, which felt too raw, too honest. “But it was a bad idea to begin with. We made no sense together. It’s for the best.”

“And what’s the best—you being alone and miserable? A total jerk to all of us because of it?”

I just sighed and crossed and uncrossed my legs. I was exhausted.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” She spun in her chair as she thought. “What I meant is, I like you and her. Together.”

“Mmm?” I feigned disinterest, but I was genuinely curious as to where she was going with this. She’d barely seen us together. And Eleanor had never expressed any sort of allegiance to anyone I’d dated, even when it was one of her own friends. She’d obviously taken my “side” through my divorce, but even as I worked through the end of things with Angie she never uttered a negative word about her. For her to come out in favor of Franny felt like a departure from her usual neutral stance.

“Most of the time you rely so heavily on certain…qualities of your personality. You know the things I’m talking about. The…stern side. Protective, analytical. But every time I saw you with Franny, or heard you talk about her, all the hidden sides of you I like even more kept showing up.”

“And what sides are those?” I asked, leaning forward.

“You’re unfailingly kind and generous. Spontaneous, when the mood strikes. And, dare I even say, funny.”

“You didn’t think I was funny when you were yelling at me about screwing up this pitch meeting last night,” I said, managing to give her a snarky smile.

“God, and moody as all hell too.”

At first, I didn’t respond. I wanted to do what I always did before Franny entered the picture. Focus. Block everything out. Get sucked into the blue light of my computer.

Instead, I leaned back in the chair and pressed my palms into my forehead.

“I really liked her.” My voice was quiet. “But it’s done.”