“Of course,” he says.
As she brushes past us in search of the cursed ladies’ room, she gives Hal a little arm squeeze and fucking cheek kiss.
Naturally, I trail Hal to the bar, very composed and completely rational.
“You really jumped to it,” I say. “I’ve never seen you so eager to pay for someone else’s drink.”
“I’ll get you one, too,” he says, not that I need it. “She’s the author. That’s Leen.”
The gorgeous woman pulling off a backless jumpsuit is the person who titled her bookThe Apotheosis of the Incomplete? Who’s too cool to have her book event at a bookstore? Who’s undaunted by my warnings about the restroom?
“She’san NEA fellow? Is she twenty years old?”
For fuck’s sake, does every person I encounter suddenly have their shit together? This Leen person, Hal contemplating a move to New York, Mom and Perry jetting off to live their best expatriate lives? Or am I so spectacularly behind that normal people seem like superstars in comparison?
“Do you know each other?” I ask. “You seem very friendly.”
“We met at Bread Loaf last summer,” he says.
I remember Hal attending some kind of prestigious writers’ conference, but my gin-soaked brain can’t remember if he ever alluded to a torrid affair with a literary It Girl.
I stare at him while he waits for her drink. I’m trying to read between the lines of his body language. “I’m not coming over to your place tonight, amI?”
“Sam. Come on.” He’s fucking grinning at me and it’s kind of enraging. “You’re not jealous.”
The way he phrases that statement seems designed to lead me in four directions at once.
“Why did you ask me to come to this?” My voice is loud enough to make him glance around the bar nervously. “If you were hoping to—”
“You’re my plus-one, remember? Just like I’m going to your mom’s wedding with you. And I didn’t know there would be a possibility of…hanging out with her again.” He lowers his voice. “I thought she had a boyfriend.”
“Oh.”Oh.I’m here just in case he needed to create the illusion of his own desirability in front of a crush who’s much more successful than he is. This is not what I imagined when I dug my most expensive bra out of a drawer a few hours ago.
“Hey,” he says, and I don’t even bother to hold my breath this time.
I just let the words tumble out: “I didn’t think we were fucking other people right now.” My heart is racing, waiting for his response. Which could be anything. Yes, we never verbally pledged it, but it’s certainly been implied. Heavily implied.
“I haven’t been,” he exclaims. And I feel the tiniest bit better until he adds, “But we’re not labeling things, right? We’re not holding each other to some impossible standard.”
“You lost your mind when a neighbor offered me a ride,” I say. “You just suggested we move to New York together!”
“It was an idea, not a proposal,” he says.
The bartender pushes another G&T in my direction.
“Look,” Hal says, picking up Leen’s drink. “Let’s just acknowledge that it’s okay for either of us to talk to other people. For now, at least—”
“Oh, that’s very convenient for you.”
“—and we can see how we feel about it going forward. We’re both adults. We have a strong enough friendship to navigate this.”
And then this motherfucker hugs me again. “You’re the best,” he whispers before disappearing into the crowd with Leen’s drink.
I let myself sink onto a barstool. I place my fresh drink against my burning cheek, but it doesn’t help, so I take a huge gulp. That doesn’t help, either.
This is what happens when I “self-disclose.” Exactly this.
I take another swallow. At least this whole situation has helped push my mom’s news to the background. So all I need to do is rack up a few more emotionally fraught events tonight and it’ll shove my mental image of Hal and Leen right out of my mind. Like a chain reaction.
