He grabbed a Heineken and surveyed the room.
“Divide and conquer?”
I wasn’t so into that idea—I thought we’d at least be fielding stilted conversations together—but said sure anyway as I watched him cross the room.
Half an hour later, I was sandwiched between two international students running through a synchronized script of questions. I couldn’t tell if it was my problem or theirs, but I’d never been more bored. I really wanted a drink.
I finally excused myself and escaped to the restroom. I locked myself in a corner stall and texted Charlie an SOS.
My phone buzzed with a text from Emilie.
He just broke up with me. It’s over.
I texted Charlie again.
OK now I actually have to go. Friend emergency.
Still no response.
Fuck it,I muttered as I exited the restroom and picked up a prosecco from a table of prepoured glasses.
I scanned the room and spotted him in a corner talking to a blond who looked like a potential recruit.
He looked over and gave me a wave. I pointed toward the door to signal I was heading out. He held up two fingers and mouthed, “Two minutes.”
I wasn’t feeling patient. I drained the prosecco and unpinned my name tag. I shot an irritable look back in Charlie’s direction. It looked like she was putting his number in her phone.
He strolled over and held up his empty beer bottle.
“Did you see a recycling bin anywhere?”
I laughed despite my agitation. “Over there. Did that student just give you her number?”
“She did.”
“So that you guys can talk more about life at the firm, or ...?”
“I can’t tell if you’re making a joke.”
“I’m making a point. She’s a law student who might be an intern next summer. Remember the summer bubble?”
“She’s interested in real estate and asked if we could have a follow-up conversation.” He shrugged. “She seems like a great candidate, and it sounds like she’s considering multiple firms. She’s third in her class. I can swing a phone call if it helps the cause.”
I pointed to the empty bottle. “Okay Mr. EPA. Chuck it so we can go. Emilie texted an SOS, and I’m trying to track down where she is.”
“Wait! Almost forgot—we have to check out the rooftop before we head down. That girl said the view is unbelievable.”
I still hadn’t heard from Emilie where she was, but I couldn’t say no to someone who’d lived in New York for years and still got excited about a view. I could imagine a slightly younger law student being charmed by someone like Charlie. A high-powered lawyer who recycled.
The top of the Empire State Building seemed so close you could almost touch it. We stood there quietly as I texted Emilie again.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.
His face was backlit by the city. I tried mirroring his look, but it was unreadable.
“Yes, counselor?”
“Have you really not slept with anyone—sober—since you got divorced?”
