Thalia appears in the doorway then, a wave of applause breaking out. Thalia is very cool, and very hard to miss.
“It’s good to see you, my love,” she says, waving and coming outside to grab us from the line. She leans in to hug me and whisper in my ear. “Cute…but now we’re going with old?”
Thalia says she doesn’t approve of the guys I date because they are less than me—less accomplished, less focused, less interesting—and not all thatinterestedin me. She’s not wrong. There’s a reason my relationships always crash and burn. I’m thirty-nine years old, and ten months is the longest any of my relationships has lasted. Even I know that’s weird.
Richard looks appropriately starstruck as Thalia seats us at what I know is her own favorite table, tucked in the corner beneath a set of stylish sconces. “Thank you so much for accommodating us,” he says.
Thalia smiles at him, but her eyes are appraising. Then she nods as though she’s decided to bite her tongue. “It’s my pleasure,” she says. “You two make yourselves at home. And don’t worry about ordering. I’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you for bringing me here,” Richard says, looking around like a delighted child. “It’s so…alive.”
It stings. “Is that why you’re here with me? Because I make you feel alive? Or young?”
He considers this for a moment. “Is that so wrong?” he asks. “I probably make you feel some way that you like, too. A way that’s more about you than about me. Isn’t that how it is with all relationships? Partly about the other person, partly about ourselves.”
“That’s true, I guess.”
“So—why areyouhere, then?”
Because I avoid intimacy by seeking out doomed relationships?That’s what Noah would say. He has said this about some of my other boyfriends.
“Because you make me feel safe,” I say. And that is true.
But maybe I also want a chance to have that night, all those years ago, end differently. To rewrite history with Richard.
“Safe.” Richard grins in a lopsided way. “I can live with that.”
“Thalia is so talented,” I say, changing the subject as I eye the neighboring tables, all full. “It’s great to see this place doing so well. She really earned it.”
“Like you and your show,” Richard says with an encouraging smile.
“I had a little money saved, so I could focus on being an artist without having to wait tables. Kind of feels like cheating.”
A stylish sommelier with an eyebrow slit and a nose piercing appears with a bottle of red wine that Thalia sent over. “This should go well with the dishes she’s preparing.”
“Thank you.” I smile at him as he pours.
Richard lifts his glass, we clink, and then each take a sip. “I know what impostor syndrome feels like. I get it.”
“Aren’t you like the head of Goldman Sachs? Pretty sure you’re not faking anything.”
“Yes, but I married aDunlopfirst.” He swirls his wine. “Now, would I have beenassuccessful if I hadn’t always known I had that to fall back on? I’m not so sure. It gave me confidence. But I also don’t think it takes away from what I’ve done. Just like I don’t think you having some savings changes what you’ve accomplished.”
Savings.Suddenly, I want to confess every ugly detail about the Senator and the NDA. I want to spread out all my shame in front of him like a blanket, to lie naked on it with him. “Thalia built this place while having to support herself. It’s different.”
Richard shrugs. “Everybody pays, sooner or later.”
“Well, I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes. I’ve brought a lot of problems on myself.”
“I think that’s called being human.”
This is my window—I know it is. “There’s something I need to tell you,” I begin. “It’s not great.”
Richard looks concerned. “Okay.”
“This guy from my past took a picture of us together when we went for coffee the other day. He texted it to me as some kind of threat. He implied he would give it to your wife.”
“Has he asked for money?” He looks irritated but not nearly as alarmed as I would have expected.
