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"Maybe I didn't want to get called a slut."
"It's a compliment. You want me to act like Kat." She adopts a prim and proper voice. "Oh my goodness, Elizabeth, you need to be careful. Are you using contraceptives? Are you sure this man is really marriage material?"
"Don't make fun of Kat. She's sweet. And she gets laid more than you do."
"Does not."
"You should see her with Blake. He worships the ground she walks on. And he looks at her like he's thinking about throwing her on the bed and planting his face between her legs." I go to my closet and try to pick out my cutest dress. "You know what, this line of conversation is disgusting. I'm totally done."
"You're not going to abandon me for an engagement, are you?"
"Never." I pick a purple mini-dress and find gray tights to compliment it. "Meet you at Pixie Dust?"
"See you then."
The phone clicks off.
I check the saved text message just to make sure it's still there.
Tonight, 10 PM. The restaurant is a good ways from any club Sarah frequents. I'll have to leave by nine if I want to take the subway. Nine-thirty if I'm willing to take a cab.
I play with my phone, contemplating the merits of calling Shepard and demanding an explanation now. Of calling Nick and begging him to share his feelings with me. The former is too aggressive, the latter too desperate.
He wants me to stay out of this.
But I can't.
Dinner is pizza on the way to the club—a loud, throbbing dive where the bouncers don't check ID.
I down a double-shot rum and diet and follow Sarah onto the dance floor. There's no mood lighting here. It's dark and dim and sweaty.
For half an hour, I dance with her. We've done this a million times and we fall into a seamless rhythm. It's easy and fun, but it attracts the attention of too many guys. One pair moves in to dance with us.
Sarah looks at me as if to ask if it's okay. I nod yeah. It can't be that bad. And it's dancing. Nothing in my relationship with Nick precludes dancing with a stranger.
The guy slides his hands around my waist. They drift to my lower back. I grab them and put them back in place.
The song passes, my hips swaying a foot away from his. He pouts over the distance, but his hands stay put.
The next song is faster. The guy isn't so bad really. Decent height, nice button-up shirt and designer jeans, pretty blue eyes and messy blond hair. Not my type, but anyone can see he's attractive.
My body is magnetically repulsed. I don't want anyone touching me besides Nick ever again.
Fuck it. I nod a goodbye and break to the bar. After two more rum and diets, my head is fuzzy and the room is spinning.
Sarah plops on the seat next to me. "Babe, what's wrong? Talk to me."
I scan the room. We're not in the nicest club in the world, but I should be having fun. Most nights, I'd kill to dance with my friend with no trouble from the bouncers.
I look cute. I have a drink. My back feels fine.
But I'm still heavy all over. I'm still cold all over. It still feels like my insides are ripped out, like nothing will ever be okay.
I close my eyes, willing myself to shake it off.
All I see is Nick. The frustration in his eyes. The slumping of his shoulders. Even over the music, I hear his voice in my head. It's angry. Hurt. Defeated.
I can help him.
How can I do anything besides help him?
"Lizzy!" Sarah hits me in a half-playful, half-wake the fuck up gesture. "You okay? Did you leave your drink unattended?"
"No. It's nothing like that."
"Don't tell me you're thinking about the hot boss."
I nod.
"But the blond was panty-melting."
"You know it's possible to feel something for a man besides desire to fuck."
"Possible, but not for you." She looks me in the eyes. "Right?"
God, the room is spinning. I kick back the last sip of my drink. It's not enough. I plop an ice cube in my mouth and suck hard.
Sarah snaps her fingers. "Answer me or I'm assessing you too drunk to stay out."
"I'm thinking." I'm dizzy, but I know it's not from the drinks.
"Oh fuck." She covers her mouth. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
A dive bar after three drinks is not the most romantic place for a conversation like this.
I've been avoiding the question, even in my head.
I know the answer.
I love Nick.
I'm madly in love with him.
So madly in love with him I can't bear to see him hurting.
I nod a yes. "I am."
"Fuck. Love sucks. It makes you its bitch."
That sounds right.
"Lizzy."
My eyes go to the clock. It's a little after nine. There's still time to get to the hotel.
"Lizzy!!!"
"What?"
"Do you love this guy, like crazy, can't breathe in love with him?"
"I have to go."
"No fucking way, girlie. You're drunk and miserable. You're not leaving my sight."
"What if I swear to go straight home?"
Sarah cocks an eyebrow. "I won't believe you."
I go for another ice cube. Sarah takes my drink away.
She leans in close. "Love can be nice... if he's worth all the pain. Can you see yourself with him for a long time?"
My heartbeat picks up. Yes. I see us in that gorgeous apartment of his in ten years, rings around our fingers. The rest of it is fuzzy. I've never thought about my future beyond a career, but I know I want Nick in it.
I want him happy.
I push off my seat, tugging at my purse to find my phone. "I have to call him. I have to ask him something."
Sarah's expression gets serious. "If you're not back in five minutes, I'm calling the cops."
"Okay." I march to the back door, to the alley reserved for smokers.
Outside, there are two people humping against the wall. I turn my back to them so as not to ruin their desperate fun.
My hands are shaky, more from the drinks than from my racing nerves. I dial Nick and hold the phone to my ear.
Five rings and I get voicemail.
I call again. Voicemail.
Okay. Third time's a charm.
Ring. Ring. Ring—
"Lizzy, what's wrong?" His voice is equal parts concerned and tired.
"I have to ask you something."
"Are you drunk?"
"Yes, but that's not important." I dig my fingers into the back of the phone. "You told me once... about your company. That if you lost it, it would be like losing a limb. Do you still feel like that?"
"Where are you? I'll pick you up."
"Just answer the question. Yes or no. You've been miserable all week. You're like a different person. You're not here."
"Yes." He pauses. "Baby, tell me where you are. I'll come get you."
The softness is his voice is almost impossible to resist. "No. I'm with my friend. I'll be fine."
But he won't. Not if he loses the company. I take a deep breath, looking around the alley in a
n attempt to sober up. I can make out the tile walls of the building opposite me. The sighs of the couple next to me. They are not at all bothered by my presence.
I exhale into the receiver. "Nick, do you trust me?"
"Lizzy..."
"Do you?"
"Of course."
"That's all I need to know. I'll see you soon." I hang up the phone before he can object.
I look up directions to the hotel. The subway is a mess. There's no time. I have to take a cab.
Fuck.
I hightail it to the street and throw my arm into the air. How the hell do people hail these things?
Somehow, a cab stops in front of me. I take a deep breath as I slide inside.
The cabbie takes the address and the car pulls onto the street.
I close my eyes. I can do this. For Nick, I can do this.
Once I'm calm enough to breath evenly, I send a text to Sarah.
Lizzy: Sorry, but I have to take care of something. Take the blond and his friend home. I bet they'll be into a threesome. I promise I'll call if I need you.
Sarah: I'm going to rat on you to your big sister.
Lizzy: No, you're not.
Sarah: Fuck you. I might. Call me when you get home.
Lizzy: Use a condom.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
My cell buzzes frantically the entire ride to the restaurant.
Pressing "ignore" and counting the seconds until the next call is enough to keep my attention off the possibility of a crash.
When the cab arrives, I pay and turn off my phone.
At ten on a Friday night, the restaurant is crowded. New Yorkers love eating late.
Still, I spot Shepard in a booth in the back of the room. His bright blue tie draws my attention to his eyes. He looks so much like Nick.
He's just as handsome, just as strong and in control.
It's not smart being here drunk, but it's better than leaving Nick to disappear into his pain.
I walk through the restaurant. Shepard rises and shakes my hand.
"Thanks for coming. Do you prefer Miss Wilder or Lizzy?" He motions for me to sit.
I do. "Lizzy."
"Can I get you a drink or something to eat?"
"No thank you. I'm not in the mood."
Shepard slides back into his seat. He's nursing a soda in a large glass. No alcohol, most likely. He must hate it that Nick forced him into rehab. More that it worked.
