Unexpected Arrivals(29)
I had my phone in my hand, studying it as though it were the holy grail and held the secrets of life. Instead of staring at the screen, daring myself to dial her number, I peered up at Rex, the bartender who’d listened to more of my personal hell in the last few weeks than a priest heard confessions.
“Let her go. Don’t call her. Especially not when the liquor is thinking for you. That’s almost as bad as letting your pants do the talking.” He wiped the bar off, but before I could respond, he got called away to help another lonely sap living his dreams out of a bottle.
Me: I hope you’re doing okay.
I hit send before my shrink behind the bar could advise against it again. It was harmless. It wasn’t a phone call, and she didn’t have to respond. She could read it and know I was thinking of her without actually replying.
Cora: I hope you’re okay, too.
The message came through like she’d had her phone in her hand waiting for me to reach out. I hadn’t expected it, and certainly not so soon. I hadn’t thought this through. Now that I had her attention, I didn’t have another move lined up. I’d opened a door without any plan for what to do on the other side.
Me: How’s work?
There was something that riled every woman into a lively discussion. I rolled my eyes at my own stupid question. This was painful even for me, and I’d started it.
Cora: Great. I graduate in a couple weeks, and then I’m off to France.
Me: Another rendezvous with Drake?
Cora: No, I’m relocating to train in a new office Halifax is opening in Paris. I’m moving.
And five shots turned into ten before Rex cut me off and poured me a cup of coffee.
I’d lost her.
I hadn’t fought when it mattered, and now I was too late. She’d seized the opportunity in front of her.
When she was in Manhattan, the possibility of fixing us was still real. With her halfway around the world, there was little point. I didn’t bother responding. And when I finally dragged my drunk-ass home, I vowed to start living tomorrow as though Cora Chase had never existed.
She’d chosen her path, and now I’d blaze mine.
***
I quickly realized that in the two years we’d lived in New York, I hadn’t managed to make a single friend I could hang out with. The four of us had been perfectly content to hang out together like we always had. The girls had met people at school, but they only saw them between classes. Neil and I hadn’t ventured outside of the office, and the only other people we worked with were women. That would have been a recipe for disaster, and it was one I’d never considered out of respect for Cora. However, now that I had time on my hands and my best friend was still in a committed relationship, being the third wheel wasn’t all that appealing—not to mention, Hannah was like a damn parrot who repeated everything she heard.
I hadn’t dated anyone other than Cora since I was a teenager. I didn’t have a clue how to meet people in a city this size, and I didn’t have a wingman to work the social scene. Regardless of the fact I’d never lacked for confidence, this town was daunting when flying solo.
“Are you going out after work?” Neil sounded like a broken record. Every day it was more of the same. He didn’t understand why I wasn’t hanging out at home the way I always had.
“Yeah, just going into the city to see what I can find.”
“What are you looking for?”
I shrugged as I cleared my desk and then shut down my computer. “Something different.”
“Different than Cora?”
“Different than life.”
“Maybe you should give yourself some time to process the end of a long-term relationship, Carp. You don’t have to be with someone to be happy.”
“I’m not trying to find a wife, Neil. But sitting around the apartment I shared with her while watching you and Hannah make googly eyes at each other doesn’t do much for my self-esteem or my mental clarity. Do you realize we haven’t made any friends in two years?”
“No, we’ve been trying to salvage an unhealthy business. That’s what being an adult is.”
There was no way in hell Neil was going to give me the responsibility speech. “The role of an adult is not foreign to me. And I’m not waving off my responsibility or doing anything stupid. I’m simply trying to meet some people.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. I’m not trying to push. Just know that you don’t have to go racing into the sunset. You’re allowed time to grieve, and Hannah and I are around to help you—if you’ll let us.”
“Should I get you some Midol? Maybe some chocolate? Give me a break, Neil. I’m not grieving. I just broke up with my girlfriend and realized I haven’t made any friends.”
“Fair enough.”
I closed my door after he left and proceeded to shed the suit and tie for a more casual look. And then I headed to Manhattan. The great thing about New York was that there was always someone up, and there was always something open—if I wanted cookies delivered at two in the morning, there were people who’d make it happen. If I wanted to chug beer until midnight on a Tuesday there were places for that, too. Yet finding one that fit me was like trying to find Cinderella after the ball.
Every night I went somewhere different: I liked the brew but wasn’t interested in the patrons, or the place was dead, or the bartender sucked. I had yet to make a repeat stop at any of my destinations and hadn’t found a single person—male or female—to connect with. I spent money faster than I could withdraw it and got nowhere in the process.