“What do you mean?” I ask.
Aldridge sits back. “I hired you because I could tell no one would ever get a mistake by you. Your work is meticulous. You read every single line of every single paragraph and you know the law backward and forward.”
“Thank you.”
“But even that, as we know, is not enough. All the preparedness in the world cannot stop the unexpected from happening. Truly great lawyers know every inch of their deal, but often they make decisions based on something else—the presence of an unknown force that, if listened to, will betray exactly the way the tide is turning. That’s what you did with Jordi and Anya, and you were right.”
“I was?”
Aldridge nods. “They’re hiring us to replace in-house counsel, and they’d like you to head up the team.”
My eyes widen. I know what this means. This is the case, the client. This is the thing I need before I make junior partner.
“One thing at a time,” Aldridge says, reading me. “But congratulations.”
He stands, so do I. He shakes my hand. “And yes,” he says. “If this goes well, yes.”
I check the clock: 2:35 p.m. I want to call Bella, but she had a session this morning and I know she’ll be asleep.
I try David.
“Hey,” he says. “What’s wrong?”
I realize I’ve never called him during the day before. If I have something to tell him, I always email, or I just wait.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Oh—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Aldridge just gave me my junior partner case.”
“You’re kidding!” David says. “That’s great.”
“It’s the women who run Yahtzee. They don’t want to sell right now, but they want me to head up legal.”
“I’m so proud of you,” David says. “Will it still involve being in California?”
“Probably a little bit, but we haven’t gotten there yet. I’m just excited because it’s the right thing, you know? Like I felt it. Iknewit was the right thing.”
I hear background talking. David doesn’t answer immediately. “Yeah,” he says. “Good.” Then: “Hang on.”
“Me?”
“No,” he says. “No. Listen, I have to go. Let’s celebrate tonight. Whenever you want. Email Lydia, and she’ll make a reservation.” He hangs up.
I feel lonely then, the sensation of which spreads out like a fever, until the whole of my body is afflicted. I shouldn’t. David is supportive. He’s encouraging and understanding. He wants me to succeed. He cares about my career. He’ll sacrifice for me to have what I want. I know this is the covenant we made: that we will not get in each other’s ways.
But, sitting here at my desk, I realize something else. We’ve been on these parallel tracks, David and I. Moving constantly forward in space but never actually touching, for fear of throwing each other off course. Like if we were aligned in the same direction, we’d never have to compromise. But the thing about parallel tracks is you can be inches apart, or miles. And lately it feels like the width between David and me is extraordinary. We just didn’t notice because we were still looking at the same horizon. But it dawns on me that I want someone in my way. I want us to collide.
I call Lydia. I ask her to make a reservation at Dante, an Italian café in the West Village we both love. 7:30 p.m.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I arrive at the restaurant—a corner one, tiny and candlelit, with old-fashioned red-checkered tablecloths—and David is already there, bent over his phone. He has on a blue sweater and jeans. The hedge fund is a less dressy environment than the bank he worked at before, and he can get away with jeans much of the time.
“Hi,” I say.
He looks up and smiles. “Hey. Traffic was a nightmare, right? I’m trying to figure out why they closed down Seventh Avenue. We haven’t been here in a long time. Since we first started dating,” he says.
