Chapter Eighteen
“Ow.” I rubbed the back of my head where Carmen had hit me. Woman had a mean right hook. “What was that for?”
“For being a dumbass and a shitty person. I thought you were a better human than that.” She gazed at me. “How could you do that to Ezra?”
Carmen, Amy, and I were having dinner in the Village near NYU. Carmen had been a guest speaker for a symposium on foster care, and Amy had persuaded me to take a yoga class near there, then go to the lecture and have dinner after.
We were at Lupa, a slightly more upscale restaurant than I would’ve chosen, but Carmen had heard their pasta was amazing, so I figured I could splurge. Although if I was going to get whacked in the head again, maybe not. In order not to have to face either of them, I concentrated on the fascinating action of buttering my bread.
“It’s…complicated. We’re tiptoeing around our past, and Ezra seems to want to forget, but I can’t.”
“So you hooked up and then basically treated him like a…a…”
“Hookup,” Amy stated with quiet condemnation. “Not someone you have a history with or once cared about.”
With each reprimand, I sank lower and lower. After saying those words to Ezra, I’d wanted to snatch them right out of the air. He’d bared a part of himself to me, and I’d run from it. I’d hidden away from myself for so long, I didn’t know who I was. But I knew I didn’t want to be the man who hurt Ezra like that.
The waiter stopped by to take our orders. Carmen chose the short ribragùwithbucatini all’amatriciana, Amy thepappardellewith mushrooms and garlic, and I couldn’t resist thecacio e pepe. We selected a bottle of wine and a big mixed salad for the table.
“This is a pretty place. I like the bar.” Usually bars were long, dark, polished-wood affairs with rows of glasses stacked behind against a mirrored wall, but here the bar was a huge white-marble slab with a giant hanging ball of lights.
“Don’t change the subject.” Carmen glared. “Why would you behave like that to someone you obviously care about? That’s not who you are. You’re so sweet and loving.”
I was glad they thought they knew me. Ever since Ezra had shown up, I didn’t know myself. I had always held back from relationships and thought I could live without love. Once Ezra returned, the walls of the carefully constructed persona I’d crafted for myself had broken apart, leaving me like Humpty Dumpty, scattered in pieces on the ground.
The delicious bread now tasted like sawdust, and I set the rest of the piece aside.
Amy touched my arm. “You’re hiding, right? You care too much, and you’re running away from your feelings so you don’t have to face them.”
“I’m fine. And Ezra…” I waved my hand feebly. “He knows the score. He’s the one who suggested the stupid idea of pretending for Grandma.”
“Probably because you’re being such a stubborn idiot, he figured it was the only way of getting close to you.”
I cocked my head. “That’s ridiculous. The man can have anyone he wants.”
In high school, I used to think that Ezra had achieved the trifecta of life: money, looks, and popularity with men and women. I’d harbored a fear that he’d eventually grow tired of me, the quiet, bookish, skinny guy who never had more than ten dollars to his name. When his mother told me he’d begun dating other people, it hadn’t come as too much of a surprise. I supposed I was always waiting for him to leave me.
At forty, Ezra had only grown into his life as one who lived inside the solid gold circle, while I remained stagnant, still quiet, still with my books. Still alone. I might have more money now, but it hadn’t brought me the security or joy in life I’d thought it would.
Carmen propped her chin in her hand, her soft eyes grave over the flickering candle. “And yet he wantsyou, and for some reason you can’t accept it.”
The waiter set the salad down between us. “Enjoy, folks.”
“Saved by the bell,” I muttered and doled out the salad between the three of us.
“Roe?”
My fork clattered to the table, and I turned slowly to meet Ezra’s eyes. He stood flanked by two men, both around our age.
“Oh, uh, hi. What’re you doing here?”
Smooth. Real smooth.
He quirked a brow. “Eating dinner with my friends. They live near here and forced me to come downtown. We were waiting for our table, and I saw you.” He gestured to the men. “Ross Miller and Arden Wainwright, this is Monroe Friedman.” He turned his charming smile to Carmen and Amy. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your names.”
“Oh, right, sorry. This is Carmen Acevedo and her wife, Amy Phillips-Acevedo. This is Ezra Green.”
Ross met my eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”
