“Sure. The one where she ironed Schrodinger’s equation on her dress? God.” She laughs, probably remembering the picture Kit had shown us, her smile huge as she gave a thumbs-up to the camera. “She’s such a nerd.”
“Right, but—if you remember, she said Alex did her hair for that dance?”
“Oh,” Zoe says, furrowing her brow. “Yes, I guess I doremember that.”
I can tell already Zoe doesn’t remember it as well as me, and why would she? After the first time I met Alex, I basically felt like a freshly plucked string every time he came up in conversation. I gathered details about him like they were lucky charms for my collection. “She said she couldn’t afford to get it done the way she’d wanted it, and so he bought a hair magazine and a bunch of bobby pins and did it himself. She said it took him hours. He wanted it perfect for her.”
“Uff, that is—yeah. I seriously don’t know why this story would make you want to sleepwith himless.”
“It doesn’t,” I admit. “But Alex fought really hard to be on his own, to get where he is.” I think about all the photographs in that slideshow, how terrible and beautiful they were. “I think it’s difficult for him with Kit sometimes. I think he still feels—” I break off, think of how I can say something about that moment when Kit’s text had come in, when Alex had gone white with anxiety, without saying too much. “The weight of what he had to be for her, when he was so young. If he and I got involved—Z, youknowKit. You know what she’d think, or what she’d hope. She’d be thinking Alex would finally settle down, not put himself out there all the time in these dangerous situations.”
Zoe’s quiet for a minute, clasping her hands together and shifting her weight to her other hip. When she speaks, she looks right at me, serious and calm and no-time-for-bullshit. “Listen, Greer. You are not responsible for Kit’s worries about Alex. And Kit’s my best friend, and I love her, but Alex is not responsible for living a life that would make her more comfortable, or that would have herworrying less.”
She pauses, giving me a long look that we both know the meaning of. There’s one other person in this room who lives life a whole lot based on making other people comfortable, and it isn’t her. After all, a half hour ago I sat in this kitchen with my phone pressed to my ear and soothed my anxious mother, whose calls I hadn’t heard when I’d been splattering paint all over a brick wall and having an orgasm in a back alley.
“Either way,” Zoe says, straightening from the counter, “I don’t think either one of you is giving her enough credit. She’s really dealt with this stuff about Alex over the past couple of years.” I look down, blinking at my colorful hands. What Zoe has said—it’s true. Kithasbeen different about Alex, and I know that, whether he does or not. “I think you might be using heras an excuse.”
“I’m…”Not going to bother denying it.My shoulders slump. Maybe I need to get reacquainted with the countertop again. “He makes me feel—a little scared, I think.”
Zoe stiffens where she stands. “What the fuck?”
“No,” I rush out quickly. “No, jeez. Scared of myself. I had so muchfuntonight.”
“Well that sucks,” she deadpans.
“I need to stay focused. I’m so close to everything I’ve worked for. And he’s not a part of my future. He’s not going to be here, inthe long term.”
“Honey.” Despite the endearment—rare for her, and I wonder if she’s doing her best to play two roles here, hers and Kit’s—Zoe’s voice is firm. “You know—youknowI think the world of what you’ve done since our numbers came up. Kit knew she wanted the house, and she made it happen, but you—what you did for your family, and your schooling—you had a plan, and you’ve carried it out so beautifully.”
“Thanks, Z.” More than Kit, Zoe knows all about the work I had to do—with her help—to get the money to my family. The payoff I did of my parents’ home equity loan, the mortgage on Ava’s townhouse, Humphrey’s student loans. All kept a secret until it was done.
“You’re right, you are close to everything you’ve worked for. But there’s absolutely no reason why you can’t get out of your head and have a little fun along the way. The fact that he’s not going to be here in the long term—that’s sort of the perfect thing aboutit, you know?”
I look up at Zoe, and something about her—her confidence in herself, and in me—it gives me a quick-fire stirring of what I’d felt tonight. After all, it’s not just Alex who sees other sides of me. It’s my friends too—my friends who know me best, who see me as the grown-up, healthy, shy but fun-loving Greer they’ve always known me as. Maybe Zoe is right. Maybe I could have more nights like I had tonight, with Alex. And maybe the fact that he won’t be staying—maybe that’s the best reason of all to do this. The least likely to mess up all my plans. Free like this with him for a while, and free like I’d planned all along, after.
“Besides,” Zoe says. “At the wedding he looked at you like you were coming out of a clamshell. He’s got it bad. He’ll probably bea monster in—”
Just then the door opens, Aiden in his dark uniform, his tread heavy in his boots and his eyes going immediately to Zoe, soft and grateful. Talk about having it bad. Aiden looks at Zoe like she invented vaccines.
“Hey, Boy Scout,” she says, smiling at him. “Okay night?”
“Busy night.” He toes off his boots, walks over, and bends to kiss her lightly, leaning back to smooth a strand of hair from her forehead, and for a quiet second they only look at each other, Aiden’s face alight in a way that’s so different from his usual stoicism, Zoe’s face free of her standard wry humor. Secret selves, that’s what Aiden and Zoe are for each other, and I feel an ache that’s in none of the usual places. This one’s deep in the center of me.
“How’s it going, Greer?” Aiden says, turning to the cabinet behind him for a glass. It is a mark of Aiden’s extraordinary circumspection that he says nothing about the paint all over me. “Get your project sorted out?”
“Funny you should ask,” says Zoe. “She’s actually thinking of starting a new one—”
“Ugh,” I say, and Aiden looks from me to Zoe. Then he looks back at me and we share the long-suffering glance of two easily embarrassed people.
“I’m sure you’ll get it done,” he says. “The photographything, I mean.”
“I’m gonna go.” I slide myself off the stool and grab my purse. Zoe comes around the counter and puts her arms around me, and I hug her tight, feeling a familiar spring of tears—gratitude for her and this friendship. As odd as it is, given what we’ve just talked about, I miss Kit too, miss the three of us together. “I’m probably getting paint all over yourfancy pajamas.”
She shrugs and pulls back from me. “I’ve got a bunch more just like them.” She gives me a narrow-eyed look and pats my shoulder, like she’s letting me off easy. But when I’m almost out the door, she speaks again.
“Get the hotel room,” she calls after me. “And for God’s sake, quit dreaming up shit and have somerealfun for once!”
Chapter 10
