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“Yes, we’ve been friends for a long time,” she agrees. “But in all that time, you’ve maybe said…five sentences about your dad, Syd. I know more about your mom, and she’s been gone since you were a kid. I have no idea what the story is with you and your father, but it might be worth a discussion with a professional.”
I sigh. “That’s what my last therapist said, but I thought I’d worked through all of that. I don’t tie myself in knots to please him anymore.”
“Says the woman who’s working at her father’s company because he told her that’s what she would be doing after college, even though she wanted to look for a different job. Or stay on the bog with the butterflies…”
My stomach cramp intensifies. “Yes, but I’m not living with him. I said no to moving back home and to having lunch with him every day. And I wear pants to work on Fridays. Even though I know Dad wants women to ‘look like women’ in the office.”
Eliana makes a gagging sound. “Oh my God. I think I want to punch your dad in the face. No offense. But wanting ‘women to look like women?’ What does that even mean? I’m a woman, no matter what I’m wearing. What century does he think he’s living in?”
I shake my head, feeling more confused than before I placed this call. “He means well, and he’s one of the most generous people I’ve ever met. He’s just old-fashioned.”
She grunts. Dubiously. “I think you should show him some of your Big Dick Energy. See how that shakes out.”
I laugh. “Right.”
“I’m serious.”
My smile fades. “I should go. I have work to catch up on at home. Can’t spend all day wandering the city, dissecting my likely doomed relationship and psychological shortcomings.”
“Maybe you should,” Elaina says. “Sometimes a person needs a day to just wander and think and live, you know? You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“Not at all,” I say, again deciding the news that I won’t be able to make it up to Maine in October can wait. “I love and appreciate you.”
“Love and appreciate you, too,” she says. “And I will deeply appreciate more news on the Gideon front ASAP. I’m assuming I can share this gossip with Gertie and Maya?”
“Could I stop you?”
“Probably not,” she says. “But if you asked me to, I would try. I really would.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I assure her. “Tell the girls all, and I’ll talk to you soon.”
We end the call, but I don’t get up right away. I sit on my bench, watching the people lounging around the park with nowhere to be with envy. Maybe Elaina’s right. Maybe I do need a day to wander…
I’m on the verge of deciding that my work can wait until tonight, or even tomorrow morning if I’m feeling feisty, when a text pops through from the last person I’m expecting.
It’s Adrian, and the text reads only—We have to talk. Should I come up to your place or would you rather pop by mine?
“Shit,” I mutter, my pulse spiking.
I remind myself that there’s no way he could know what I’ve been up to with his father—he was at the party when Gideon and I were at the diner, and we were inside the rest of the night—but my hands are still shaking as I text—My place. Thirty minutes. Just need to grab a quick shower.
Instead, I grab a taxi and fight the urge to pick apart my manicure in a fit of anxiety as the cab lurches north.
twenty-one
SYDNEY
Back at the apartment, Noelle is still asleep, as evidenced by the soft classical music drifting from her room.
Noelle always has music playing but there are different playlists for different activities. Lately, it’s Florence and the Machine for designing, jazz for sewing, and murder podcasts for lying in bed, feeling angsty about whether or not she’ll ever be able to make a living sewing for humans instead of hamsters.
She mixes things up occasionally, but classical is always sleepy time, so I tiptoe through the main living area and shut the door to my bedroom softly behind me.
Once I’m safely in my own space, I dash into the bathroom, whipping off my borrowed clothes and hanging Noelle’s dress carefully on one of my empty towel hooks. Then I set the water on blast and jump into the shower while the water is still freezing cold.
I curse as the icy droplets hit my skin, but I don’t have the luxury of waiting the five minutes it takes for the hot water from our ancient system to reach the fifth floor. If Adrian’s on time, I only have ten minutes to shower, get dressed, and get my game face on.
Hopefully, he won’t ask me where I went last night after the party or anything else that might lead the conversation around to his father. I’m a terrible liar, even when I know the truth isn’t the kindest choice.
