“How’s it going?” Mona asked. He could hear the edge in her voice.
“It’s going fine,” he said. “But I’m sort of in the middle of—”
“I read the Ian piece,” she interrupted. “I wouldn’t say it’s goingfine.
“ ‘When Mr. Sands realized that Ms. Robinson was there to see him, his posture went rigid, the tone of his voice—and the entire restaurant—turned chilly,’ ” Mona read. “ ‘The patrons of Chez Nous fell deathly quiet as the revered chef berated Ms. Robinson for having the gall to show up to his establishment, but more so, to reopen wounds that he clearly had barely managed to stitch closed. Once he was in front of Birdie—or she in front of him—blood was about to be spilled.’ ”
“Hey, if her exes are mad, I can’t exactly control that,” Elliot said. The excuse felt flimsy as soon as it was out of his mouth. This was why he preferred the page. He could be deliberate and think things all the way through on the page.
“Well, that doesn’t mean you have to leave her out there todry,” Mona batted back. “She was blindsided. What good does this do if she’s blindsided?”
“Whose side are you on?” he asked. “And didn’t you read the second half or did you make up your mind in the first paragraph? I made it quite clear that she was contrite, falling all over herself with apologies.”
“We both know that Birdie didn’t do any of that,” she said.
“That’s because we know her. But the world does not.” Elliot stepped toward the stainless-steel refrigerator, which had pictures tacked up on its door, just like his mom used to have when he was in high school. Carter with a stunning Black woman on the beach, with Lucy posing between them. Carter and his fiancée at what looked like Wimbledon. The two of them at the Colosseum in Rome. He’d built an entire life without Birdie, had seemingly moved on totally unscathed. Elliot found that he had a whole world of questions for him entirely unrelated to the letter. Questions like:How? How on earth did you do that?
“It’s your assignment to ensure that the worlddoes,” she said.
“Why are you so goddamn invested in this?” Elliot spun back toward the glass door. Carter was toweling Lucy off, which made it slightly safer for him to step back outside.
“Why aren’t youmoreinvested in this?” Mona snapped. “She’s out there publicly drowning, and you, you’ve never failed at a thing in your life. The least you could do is have her back when she is.”
Elliot blew out his breath and told himself that this, right now, was the time to tell her about the tenuous job situation. That he had his own set of troubles. That, oh, also, this whole deal with Birdie was complicated and messy and he was doing the best he could to lean into every ounce of his willpower but maybe that wouldn’t work this time.
“Hello?” Mona bleated. “Are you just ignoring me, ignoring my constructive criticism?”
“I’m in the middle of something, Mona, you can’t just call me and order me around.”
Mona sighed like she absolutely could but would humor him for now. “Fine. Where are you guys?”
“LA. Carter. I’m actually in his—”
“Oh,” Mona interrupted, her voice both lighter and still all business. “Yeah, he’s not your guy. You’re wasting your time there.”
“How would you knowthat?” Elliot was irritated all over again: if she knew how to report this story, maybe she should be out here doing it alongside him and Birdie.
“I know a lot of things that you’re not privy to,” Mona said. “I know that seems impossible to believe—”
“I’m not doing this with you right now,” Elliot said. “I don’t need your diatribe. When I have a few things to lecture you about myself.”
“Fine.”
“Fine,” he said.
“Fine,” she hissed.
They hung up on each other simultaneously.
Elliot took a deep breath and focused. He opened up the back door to the patio, where Carter was now seated, nursing his beer and scrolling through his phone.
“So it wasn’t you,” Elliot said.
“Birdie and I had a great thing,” he replied like it was simple math. “But she was always more interested in losing herself to the story on the page, not the one she and I were writing.”
“Sounds like something you could regret.”
Carter bellowed that infectious laugh. “You really don’t like totake no for an answer. My fiancée’s a lawyer; you two would get along.”
