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I cocked my head. "What exactly happened?"
"She didn't tell you?"
I shook my head. If she hadn't actually followed through on her threat to break it off with him, I wasn't about to blow her cover.
"Of course she didn't," Eric muttered. "The one time she keeps shit to herself." He sighed. "I asked her to meet me in New York over Labor Day instead of coming here. Go to lunch with my family. Take in the sights. Have a lot of kinky hotel sex."
My eyebrows practically flew off my forehead. "Whoa, whoa, back up. You asked her to meet your family?"
Eric came from the same stock as my mother––Upper East Side royalty who substituted nannies and a trust fund for human touch and familial bonds. While Eric wasn't much for divulging secrets––this was something we had in common––I did know that for whatever reason, he had left New York primarily to get away from those people. The fact that he wanted Jane anywhere near them meant one thing: he really was head over heels.
Eric just clapped his hand to his cheek and started massaging his temple like he suddenly had a vicious headache.
"I––yeah. And then last weekend she comes over for an hour. And it's normal. We're all over––um, yeah. We're normal. Until the end, when she tells me she doesn't think it's going to work out anymore and jumps in an Uber for the airport. Now she won't answer my texts, won't take my calls. And if it were anyone else, I'd be over the moon to get out of doing the break-up myself. But this time...I don't know. Am I crazy to want to get on a plane and shake some sense into her? Am I?" He looked at me with an exasperated grin. "I guess I am in love with her, aren't I?"
I held my glass up in a mock toast. "Cheers, friend."
We clinked glasses and drained them together.
"I'm going to do it!" Eric announced to the room as he poured himself another beer. No one in the crowded bar looked up, so he turned back to me. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to buy a ticket and go see her tomorrow. Because I'm tired of this 'will they, won't they' bullshit, and I sure as shit don't want her screwing some other guy in Chicago."
"What are you going to say?" I wondered.
"I don't know," Eric said as he whipped out his phone and started thumbing to a travel site. "I love you, I guess." He looked up and grinned that smile that so curiously transformed his face from being almost plain to downright gorgeous. "Hey, you know what? That actually felt pretty good."
I punch him lightly on the shoulder. "Way to pop your cherry."
Eric smirked and looked back at his phone. "Maybe I should ask her to move back to Boston. She hates Chicago anyway. She's always talking about how she should have just stayed in Boston since her mother drives her nuts."
He thumbed over his screen and whipped out his credit card, then punched in the numbers while he stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration. A minute later, he looked up in triumph.
"Done. Tomorrow morning, that psycho is going to talk to me whether she wants to or not." He looked at the empty pitcher and frowned. "I'm going to need more liquid courage."
I grinned as Eric went back to the bar for more drinks, but I couldn't help the twinge in my chest. I was happy for my friend––I really was. I only wished I were as certain about the steps to save my own crumbling relationship.
~
After a third watered down whiskey soda, I left Eric at the bar while he rehearsed his speech. Watching him brainstorm his big overtures for Jane made me want to do some problem-solving of my own.
Eric and I were cut from the same cloth––both of us New Yorkers with the same reticence, the same fear of letting go. But Eric was willing to do it, to make a damn fool of himself for someone he loved. Did I need to do the same thing to win back Brandon? What would that even look like?
I tossed my briefcase into the back of Brandon's Mercedes after Lucas escorted me back to the car, but I stared for a minute up the street in the direction of the apartment building. It was still relatively early for a summer night. At just eight, dusk was barely hitting the city, and a few last glimmers of sunshine seeped through the buildings to the West.
"Ms. Crosby?" Lucas beckoned. "Everything all right?"
I blinked as I came back to the present moment. "Yes. I think so." I looked straight at him. "I'd like to stop by the river on the way home, if you don't mind."
If he was surprised, the big man didn't show it. He just nodded and whispered in David's ear. David caught my eye as I slid into the backseat of the Mercedes. And just before I looked away, he winked.
~
A few minutes later, David pulled into Magazine Park, one of the many parks that bordered the Charles River on the Cambridge side. I recognized the trails that Brandon ran almost daily (and sometimes forced me to run with him), and immediately got out of the car.
It was one of those late summer nights that was actually perfect for walking around. After a sticky August day, I was comfortable walking around in nothing but a skirt and a tank top, and the number of people who were also enjoying the cool night breeze made it seem more like eight o'clock than ten p.m. I limped down one of the paved paths, nodding at a few other people walking on the river path.
One of the perks of having security following me around, I realized, was that in a way, I had more freedom. I was alone, but I no longer had the same fear of being alone I'd carried with me my entire life, the same way anyone––especially a woman––who grows up in the city has to be afraid. I didn't have to hold my house keys in my pocket like weapons when I passed strange men on the street. I didn't have to avoid dark corners or poorly lit blocks. I could just walk.
With Lucas following about thirty feet away, I made my way through the park, past the baseball fields where I knew Brandon had played Little League when he first moved in with Ray and Susan, and down to a bench near the water's edge. There was only a slight breeze coming off the river, and there were even still a few boats gliding past the bank.
