“We’re going to Hillstone if you guys want to meet up there later.”
“It’s a restaurant, but it has a cool bar,” Austin adds. He arranges for Rosanna and D to call his cell if they decide to meet up with us.
We hold hands the whole walk to Hillstone, stopping to kiss every few blocks like we do. The night is clear and fresh. Most people we pass seem less frazzled than usual. Even the air feels lighter, as if the rain washed our collective angst away.
Austin puts our names in when we get to Hillstone. Then we sit at the bar to wait for our table. I’m loving the dim lighting, cool vibe, and smell of garlic bread.
“Have you ever tried an amaretto sour?” Austin asks.
“I don’t drink.”
“Why not?”
“Um, because I don’t see the point?”
“The point is to have fun. Are you seriously telling me you’ve never been drunk?”
“I am seriously telling you that.”
“You’re more straight-edge than I thought.”
“Thank you. But I’m actually straight-edge with a twist.”
“Would you like to try one?”
“An amaretto sour?”
“You’d like it. It’s really sweet. Like you.”
“I’ll try a sip of yours if you get one.”
“Hmm. Then maybe I’ll have to order two drinks for myself.”
“Party on.”
“Bathroom break first.” Austin gets up from the bar stool just as a guy is sitting down on the other side of him. The guy bumps into Austin, shoving him against the bar.
“Sorry, man!” the guy slurs.
Austin holds up his hand like it’s okay. “I’ll be right back,” he tells me.
I don’t notice Austin’s phone on his bar stool until it rings. It must have fallen out of his back pocket when the guy bumped into him. Thinking it might be Rosanna, I pick up his phone. I really hope she and D are coming. I cannot wait to meet him. How much fun will it be when the boys start becoming friends?
Rosanna is not the one calling Austin. There’s some strange woman’s name Austin has never mentioned before.
I’m not sure what makes me answer the call. Something just tells me I should.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hello?” she says. “Who is this?”
“Sorry, this is Austin’s phone. I picked up for him.”
“Put Austin on.”
“He’s in the bathroom. May I take a message?”
She lets out a sharp laugh. “You don’t want to hear what I’m about to say.”
My stomach drops.
“Who is this?” I ask.
“This is Austin’s wife,” the woman says. “Who’s this?”
No.
This is not happening.
Austin cannot be married. That doesn’t even make sense.
The woman claiming to be Austin’s wife wants to know who I am. This probably isn’t the best time to tell her I’m his soul mate.
I don’t answer her. I hang up and turn his phone off.
I’m still staring at the phone in my hand when Austin comes back.
“Calling someone?” he asks, sitting down.
“Your wife called.” The words sound like a lie coming out of my mouth. Like we’re acting out some movie scene. But I’m pretty sure what I just said is true.
“What?”
“I did not just talk to your wife.”
Austin looks at the phone. He doesn’t say anything.
“Please tell me you’re not married,” I say.
“Sadie.” Austin puts his hand on my arm.
I yank my arm away. I throw his phone down on the bar.
“Please,” I say.
Austin looks at me. “I can’t tell you that,” he says.
My entire world crumbles. My entire world, containing every truth I’ve ever known, every relationship I’ve ever built, every experience I’ve ever had, crumbles to pieces around me.
“I was about to get separated before I met you,” Austin says. “We got married too young. I’ve been regretting it. Then I found you and . . . now I know how love is supposed to feel. For the first time in my life, I understand what it feels like to really be in love.”
We got married too young. Not we as in Austin and me. We as in Austin and his wife.
“I thought we had something real,” I say.
“We did. We do.”
“How can something real be based on a lie?”
“Everything I’ve told you is true.”
“Except you forgot the part where you’re married.” Underneath the shock, I know I should leave. Just walk out and never look back. But the shock is keeping me glued to the stool.
I can’t believe he’s married. I can’t believe this is happening.
“You don’t wear a wedding ring,” I point out.
“I stopped wearing it a few weeks before we met.”
“But you put it back on when you go home.”
Austin stays quiet.
“Right?” I press.
“Yeah.”
“How could you do that to your wife? How could you do that to me?”
“Sadie, I—”
“What about when you told me we were made for each other?” A million unanswered questions flash through my mind all at once. None of this makes sense. “When you said we were meant to be?”
“I really do feel that way. I feel closer to you than I ever have to my wife.”
My wife. Not me. Some other woman.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Someone who adores you.”
“What about last night when you told me I make you happier than anyone ever has?”
“That was true. Everything I’ve ever told you was true.”
“Even when you told me you’re married? Oh wait, you never told me that. I had to find out from your wife.”
This is bullshit. I spring up from the stool, almost toppling it over.
“We’re done,” I say. “Obviously.”
I walk out. Austin doesn’t follow me.
I am completely shattered. I walk without realizing what I’m doing or where I’m going. When I reach Hudson River Park, where we were those people I’d always wanted to be and the epic feeling burst open inside of me brighter than a million stars, I look out across the water. Austin lives on the other side. He doesn’t live alone. He lives with his wife.
My soul mate is not who I thought he was.
Our entire relationship was a joke.
He was married the whole time.
How do you ever come back from that?
THIRTY-FIVE
DARCY
SO I MADE AN EXECUTIVE decision. But first I had to admit something to myself I really didn’t want to.
I like Jude.
We were making out last night in that recliner at Welcome to the Johnsons for an astoundingly long time. Straight up, we must have broken like five different records. I couldn’t wait to be alone with him. Let’s just say I could tell Jude felt the same way. We went to his place after. Only one of his three roommates was home. Jude introduced us and then we disappeared into his room.
And then . . . we spent the night together.
Nothing serious happened. Unless you call making out all night serious. But I have to admit that my feelings for Jude have been upgraded. I’m in the hookup haze and feeling all types of twirly emotions. Twirly emotions have been known to get out of control.
Back to my executive decision. If Jude needs us to be all official boyfriend/girlfriend material, then I can’t help him. But if Jude is into keeping things casual, I’m into keeping things casual. With potential. Sort of an exclusive casual thing. Like maybe we could try just seeing each other, but with no expectations. Our chemistry is ridiculous. We have tons of fun together. So I was thinking it might be an interesting experiment. The exclusive casual thing gives us the best of both worlds: being with a person we really like without the pressure of a heavy commit
ment. How could he not agree that would be a sweet deal?
Last night made me realize one thing I miss about being in a relationship. I miss the consistency of always being able to share the Now with your person. Someone who feels the same way about living in the moment as you do. Someone you can share your life with who you not only love, but love spending time with. As much as I live for adventure, part of me needs that deeper connection with another person. Connection makes the adventures more meaningful. Without me realizing it was happening, Jude has been filling that void for me.
So yeah. Jude’s on his way over. I am bursting to tell him these things. He’ll want to know what happened to the Darcy of fun summer flings and keeping the boys at a distance. I’ll have to find a way to explain that wasn’t the best solution.
The door buzzes. My heart jumps so high it nearly lifts me right off the floor. I’m secretly relieved that Sadie and Rosanna are out. They would not recognize me in my hyper boy-crazed state. I literally cannot wait to see Jude, so I run down to the front door to let him in. Buzzing him up and waiting for him to climb the stairs would be excruciating. The best part is that I didn’t even ask him to come over. Before I left his place early this morning for the almost-walk-of-shame home, Jude said he was going to come by tonight to pick me up. He said he had something special planned, and that this will be a night I will never forget.
I zoom down the stairs and zip to the front door. I whip it open.
But it’s not Jude.
It’s my ex.
My ex who dumped me like a bag of trash in some ghetto Dumpster. Like everything he’d said to me, all the promises he made, everything we’d been through, meant nothing.
“Logan,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“I was wrong,” Logan says. “I should have never let you go.”
Oh.
My.
God.
How many times did I secretly hope Logan would show up at my door like this, saying these exact words? I must have pictured this scenario a thousand times my first few nights in New York. Lying in bed staring into the darkness, waiting for the light traffic noises of 5th Avenue to lull me to sleep, wishing that Logan would realize he made a mistake and come for me.
But Logan told me it was over right before I left for New York. That was the most painful type of breakup I can imagine: when you’re relying on your boyfriend during a big life transition and then—poof!—he’s gone. Actually that was my only breakup. Logan was my first love. He was the first boy to dump me. When he told me it was over, I began extricating him from my heart. Or so I thought. Seeing him standing in front of me now, every feeling I ever had for him crashes into me like a tidal wave.
My first love is right here. Standing on my stoop. Asking for a second chance. Exactly the way I’d hoped he would. Despite my best efforts to forget him and move on, deep down I never stopped hoping. And now he’s come all the way from California to get me back.
Logan puts his bag down. I try not to let his tall-lanky-dark-hair-and-eyes-sexy-sloucher thing affect me.
“We should be together, Darcy,” he says. “I want to be with you. I’ve always wanted to be with you. I just got scared. You were the first girl I’d ever been in love with. You opened my eyes to so much. Some of it I wasn’t ready to see. But I’m ready now.”
“You broke my heart.”
“You’ll never know how sorry I am. You were right about the long-distance thing. We would have been the exception. We would have made it work. We still can.”
“How are you realizing all this now? Why didn’t you know this two weeks ago?”
“That would have been easier, I know. I’m so sorry I hurt you. Guys are idiots. If you didn’t know that before, it should be obvious now.”
“So . . . what, you’re an idiot and you realize we belong together and I should take you back?”
“Pretty much.”
“And then what? We just pretend you never broke up with me?”
“No, of course not. We can talk about it as much as you want. I don’t expect to be forgiven overnight. Let me prove to you that you can trust me again.”
“That’s . . . I mean, you can’t just show up here and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”
“Why not?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jude down the block. Coming for me.
THIRTY-SIX
ROSANNA
WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY makes when you have the right support system. I’d been feeling gross all day about Mica blowing up at me. How could she believe I said those things? I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. I still can’t. Talking to Sadie helped. When camp is back in session on Monday, I’ll call the Upper East location and get Addison’s number. I’ll find out what her problem is. Whatever is wrong, I’m sure we can find a solution that doesn’t involve Addison spewing lies about me. I’ll ask Addison to tell Mica that no part of what she said was true. Given how much she hates me, it won’t be easy to convince her to own up to her lies. But people shouldn’t act like monsters. If they do, they should be forced to face the consequences of their actions.
I’ve been told that my expectations of people are too high. The thing is, I don’t think expecting someone to treat other human beings with courtesy and respect is unreasonable. The world would be a much better place if everyone treated others with kindness. It astounds me that such a basic principle is beyond the scope of comprehension for anyone.
Sadie was also right about D. He was calling to ask me out. It’s true that I didn’t answer the phone when he called last night because I was afraid I would burst into tears. But I was also afraid of what he might say. D breaking up with me right after Mica did would have been too much. He deserves to be with someone more experienced who can give him what he wants. When we talked tonight, it was a huge relief that he was calling to see if I was okay and to ask if I wanted to see him. At first we couldn’t decide where we wanted to go, but then he called an hour later and told me to meet him at Otheroom. D said it’s one of his favorite bars. Very dark and romantic.
I call Austin before I leave to let him know we won’t be meeting up with them. It goes to voice mail. I hope he gets the message so they’re not waiting around for us.
Walking down Perry Street toward the river, a refreshing summer breeze lifts my hair back and rustles my dress around my legs. Three cute guys turn to look at me as they pass me on the street. I smile at the orange sky.
D is waiting for me outside Otheroom. He’s so gorgeous I don’t even know what to do with myself. He’s standing still with the same serenity he had at Lalo, confident and patient. His skin is sun-kissed and his sandy blond hair looks lighter. He sees me a few doors down and smiles. I wave at him, smiling back. He watches me walk toward him. I try not to feel self-conscious with his eyes on me, teetering on the fancy heels Darcy insisted would go with every new ensemble she bought for me. Looking like I actually know how to walk in heels would probably help. Plus I’m nervous about seeing D again after running out like a freak. Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it.
“You look beautiful,” D says.
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure if this was too dressy, or . . .”
“It’s perfect.”
Otheroom has to be the smallest bar in New York. The front windows are wide open. A counter runs across them, jammed with people laughing and yelling over the music. We push our way up to the bar. D told me that this place has regular drinks like cherry soda and root beer, which are apparently rare finds in bars. He orders a cherry soda for me and a beer for him and we go to the back room. A couch curves around the edge of the tiny space. A couple is just leaving from a spot on the couch in the far corner as we walk in. We snag the spot.
“This place is awesome,” I say. I’m not a bar person at all, but I would come back here. The two small rooms are both very dark. Candles are placed on every table and ledge, illuminating everyone and everything with a soft glow. We sip our drinks in the candleli
ght. D captures me with his intense laser focus.
“Remember when you were out on my balcony?” he says. “Admiring the view?”
I nod.
“Your reaction was amazing. The way you were lost in your own world for a few minutes. It reminded me of my first week in the apartment. I would stand out there every night, mesmerized by the lights and buildings and rooftops. Every night I would notice something new. I still find new things all the time. It would be impossible to see everything there is, even if I stood out there every single night. The city is constantly changing. Growing. Improving. The energy is like this fuel I run on. When you were out on my balcony taking it all in, I could tell you felt the same way. You get a rush from just being here.”
“Being here means everything to me. This was my big dream for so long.”
“I’m proud of you for living your dream. Not many people have the courage to do that. People usually hold back because they’re afraid. You’re not like that.”
My mind flashes back to running out of D’s apartment. I was afraid then. But here he is, telling me that I’m not the type of person to let fear hold her back. Not only does he see the potential of what I can become, he sees those qualities as if I’m already showing them.
“I really wanted to kiss you,” D says. “Why didn’t you let me?”
I can’t admit what happened to D. I couldn’t even talk about it with my friends. He doesn’t need to know, anyway. My past does not have to define me. All he needs to know is this best version of myself.
“Sorry,” D says. “You said you didn’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t be pushing you. Was I really that deranged creeper unzipping your dress? After you said you had to go? That was—” D rakes his hands through his hair. “That was wrong. You need to take it slow. I respect that. Don’t worry, I won’t push you anymore.”
“It’s okay.”
“Can you forgive me?”
“Of course.”
“I think I was just . . . overwhelmed. You’ve been making me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. And you’ve been making me feel things I’ve never felt before.” D slides his hand over mine, putting me in a tingly trance. He’s looking at me with that intense laser focus again.