“You sure about this?” Simon said.
“Not particularly,” Elliot said. His plan was a high-wire act, and there were a million ways he could stumble, careen to the ground, crash and burn. “But half of my job comes from trusting my instincts, and I think this is the hand I need to play.”
“It’s Las Vegas,” Simon concurred. “That’s the only way to go. As long as you know when to walk away before you lose everything.”
38
BIRDIE
Birdie was anchoredto her childhood kitchen floor, her back pressed against the refrigerator, downing Andie’s homemade hangover cure of tomato juice and vinegar and maple syrup, when Mona’s text came in.
MONA
vegas baby
She swallowed the rest of Andie’s concoction, the syrup sliding out the bottom of the glass and down her throat, which nearly made her gag, the 7-Eleven vodka still a slushy bomb in her gut. Andie, who was even more hungover than Birdie, had run to the store for hangover cure ingredients, then returned to bed an hour ago, though it was two o’clock in the afternoon.
BIRDIE
ur in vegas?
Mona texted back an emoji of a moneybag, which Birdie took to mean yes.
So Elliot had left without her, which immediately infuriated her. That he hadn’t stuck around, that he was so damn good at his job that he didn’t need her involved in the first place. Exactly what he did seven years ago. Left when he should have stayed.
She’d assumed that he’d call again this morning, and then she’d cave, at least having made him work for it. Birdie did truly want to get to the bottom of the letter, letters, for the sake of her career. She doubled back over that notion. Why did this have to all be in service of her career? Maybe it would be nice, she thought, to have a steady companion, to have someone other than her team to cheer for her successes, to offer an outstretched hand when she faltered. She reached for her phone in the kangaroo pocket of Andie’s neon hoodie and tried to think of a single person she could call now, someone who wasn’t on her payroll, someone who wasn’t Mona because she couldn’t call Mona about everything that was brewing inside her.
She dipped her head back against the refrigerator, closed her eyes, and tried to breathe.
Why was she thirty-four and alone? And she didn’t mean single. She never really valued marriage, was lukewarm on having kids, and wasn’t interested in a relationship simply for a warm body in the bed beside her. But she had a sister she barely spoke to, parents who packed up the house without her knowing, and a best friend in Barton whom she hadn’t visited in four years. She had casual friends in the industry and liked her personal trainer and facialist well enough, but they weren’t on a texting level, and certainly not mental-breakdown-crises texting level.
Jesus Christ, she thought, the notion hitting her like a tsunami.I have an army of people around me but I’m so goddamn lonely.
She swiped her phone open before she could talk herself out of it. Found Ian’s old Yahoo email in her address book. She was surprised to still have it, honestly, and had no idea if it would reach him, if he would read it even if it did. But it felt like the right place to start.
Dear Ian,
I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I thought it was important that I try. Risking your well-deserved anger. I wanted to tell you that I was sorry. For moving to Los Angeles and ghosting you. For being careless with your heart when you deserved the opposite. I was shitty and selfish, and you were nothing but wonderful and kind. And I shouldn’t have blindsided you at the restaurant. I’m sorry about that too.
I don’t expect a reply, and you have the right to hate me forever. But I wanted to apologize anyway, because it’s the right thing to do, and also, because I truly do regret how dismissive I was with your heart.
Yours truly,
Birdie Maxwell
Her hands were shaking by the time she was done. She read it once while holding her breath, then hit send before she could second-guess it. Maybe if she could say the brave thing to Ian, she thought, she could also say brave things to Elliot.
Her stomach lurched, and she rose from the floor too quickly. She saw stars behind her eyes, and the kitchen floor tilted. Shesteadied herself, guzzled a glass of water, and marched up the steps into her sister’s room.
She couldn’t do this alone. Well, she could. But she no longer wanted to.
“Andie.” She shook her sister’s shoulders.
“Go away,” Andie moaned and dove under a pillow.
“No, come on, wake up.”
Birdie grabbed the pillow and swatted Andie like they were ten again.
