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Nateand I have been straight up ignoring what happened at his birthday a month and a half ago. Guys’ night has continued every week with a distant awkward air.
These past few weeks, Jack has been joining us too; he’s a good buffer for all of us. Four guys is a little less awkward than three, at least when it comes to ex-girlfriends and traitorous best friends.
I’m hosting for the first time in months. It was always easier for us to go to Nate’s when he was in the chair, but now that he’s getting along with his crutches, and often without any equipment at all, we have more freedom to go where we please.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Nate remarks as he takes a seat on the sprawling dark green sofa.
“Yeah, last time you were here, the floors weren’t even finished, were they?”
My apartment is my pride and joy, an old factory loft I’ve converted into a luxurious apartment.
It was the first thing I set out to do when I returnedto New York, find a place to call my own that wasn’t some stuffy Upper East Side apartment.
My Tribeca apartment has been built to my exact specifications, designed to my liking, down to the brass handles on the cabinets.
A bachelor pad. Though more than anything, I’d like someone to share it with.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t make some of the choices based on Laney’s preferences.
The bounteous monstera plant in the corner that I know she’d be able to take care of better than me. The spout over the oven so she can fill up her tea kettle for her nightly cups of Sleepy Time tea.
It’s depressing how much she’s a part of this place when she’s never even set foot here.
“Thanks.” I force a smile.
“You even have one of those TVs that looks like a painting.” Nate nods toward the TV, which is in a gold frame, showing offStarry Nightby Vincent Van Gogh. “Talk about adulthood.”
“Better than the camping chairs in the living room, huh?”
Nate’s smile turns open and genuine when he’s reminded of our apartment in California before Nate and Sonia linked up.
Of course, after that, we got a minor upgrade with some Ikea furniture.
Nate and I grew up together. We’ve been through so much.
Now, it feels like we’re strangers.
The sliding door to the apartment opens, revealing Seth and Jack holding a couple cardboard boxes each.
Jack lifts his like a holy grail. “Pizza’s here!”
Nate sits up straight. “Tell me there’s pineapple.”
I laugh. “In your dreams.”
Seth and Jack place the boxes on the coffee table while I get beers for everyone.
We spend a good ten minutes stuffing our faces with the best New York thin crust in my neighborhood.
I lean back, basking in the glory of the cheese and sauce and take in the scene.
This is heaven. Me. My boys. Pizza and beer.
My eyes linger on Nate for a brief moment, and I wonder for just a second if I could get over it.
Him and Laney. Together.
I’m shocked when the thought doesn’t make me nauseated. They’d make a pretty, blond couple. Barbie and Ken. They’d fit together.
