I lean back against the chair and cross my arms. I came here tonight to tell Jack how I feel about him—that all the signs add up—but I don’t want to do it before understanding why he’s been distant. “We have so much to catch up on. I’ve been wanting to celebrate the MoMA news with you.”
He offers a small smile. “It’s wonderful, Rooney. You’ll do it in the new year?”
“After the first showcase here, so I’ll go back in February. I’ll get paid half up front when I sign the contract, but between that and selling all of my string art pieces and having a waitlist, I should have enough forBaby Being Born,” I explain.
“That’s incredible,” he says, his encouraging tone not matching his expression. “Honestly, I’m so happy for you. You’re going to win it. I’m glad it all worked out as you wanted it to. You took a big risk.”
The peppermint stick is thinner now, half of it dissolving into the chocolate liquid. Kenneth and the team were not thrilled, but there’s been a huge spike in public interest, and contractually, I don’t represent NASA. For this entire artist-in-residence, I am able to work on outside projects, some riskier than others.
Hugh, the owner of the bar, brings over two Holidae Sundaes to our table. Under the cloud of whipped cream are two scoops of ice cream, one peppermint and another I can’t quite place. Eggnog, maybe? Hot fudge drips down the scoops onto sliced bananas and gingerbread crumble.
“I think you’ll appreciate those flavors,” I say as the bite meltsagainst my tongue. “I don’t know what it is about this coast, but I eat way more ice cream here.”
Jack takes a bite, taking some fudge with it. “California is actually considering making it its official state food.”
“Then it’s settled. I’m moving here,” I joke, scooping up another bite.
It feels like the first time I met Jack in New York when I tried to get him to crack a single smile. He finally lets one through. This is the version of Jack I can’t get enough of. He’s a star that’s light-years away, his light now finally reaching me. In the silence, I study Jack’s face, the multicolored string lights casting a rainbow over it.
His grin emboldens me to tell him how I feel and that I want us to be together. I take a deep breath in to steady myself. As I do, Jack’s eyes drop to his bowl, and I can tell he’s wrestling with a thought by the way his eyebrows twitch.
“What is it?” I ask instead, breaking the quiet lull. I poke the whipped cream waiting for his answer.
Jack lets his spoon hover mid-lift. “I think we need to create some distance between us,” he finally says after what feels like an eternity. He looks at me with sad, apologetic eyes.
I open my mouth and then close it.Distance?
“You don’t want to spend time with me anymore?” I ask.
Jack shakes his head. “That’s the problem. I want to spend every second with you. But if we want to achieve our goals, I think we see each other only when we need to and in group settings. Red String Theory is complete now. You’ve been reinspired.”
My chest deflates, as though all of the air is being sucked from my lungs. “Where is this coming from?” I ask meekly.
In this moment, Toby and Mac arrive and go to the stage. They’re about to start warming up. Jack notices that he’s needed.
“Can we talk about this after the show? Sundaes are on me,” he says, pulling out his wallet.
“Wait, we need to finish this conversation,” I say.
He lifts a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. The top of something familiar sticks out, thick and crinkled. I make out the word “lophole.”
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing at the paper.
Jack removes it and slowly turns it over.
In curvy red words is my handwriting—“This is how it works.” These are the words I wrote that dayEntangledclosed.
Why would Jack have it?
Unless…
My breath catches in my chest. I blink slowly and try to keep my face neutral. My heartbeat quickens, like its running on a treadmill set to a speed I’ll never be able to keep up with.
Jack grabbedmynote from my installation.
Blood drains from his face when he grasps what I’ve realized. “Is this… yours?” he asks on an exhale.
“You’re my stringmate.” The words come out on their own, taking shape without me being able to swallow them down. I’ve never said these words out loud before to anyone. I’m frozen in place, my outburst, my feelings, all of it echoing in the chambers of my mind. I can actually feel time slow down as I sit here and wait for Jack to do something with those three words. They hang there as thick as the hot fudge dripping onto the table.
