What do you think?”
I somehow get my mouth to open but take several long beats to get it working beyond that.
“Oh my God,” I finally say. “I had no idea you were thinking about anything like that.”
“Now you know.”
“But…” I smooth my hair away from my face with my free hand, trying hard to diagnose my feelings about this surprise. Joy? Relief? Alarm? Some cocktail of all three? Whatever they are, they don’t match the look of bright happiness on his face. “It’s so soon. We’ve only been together for six months. That’s not very long.”
“How long is long enough?”
Longer than this, I want to say.
“I don’t know,” I say instead. “I have much more experience with men who don’t want to commit to anything more than a couple of nights a week.”
“We’ve been doing a couple of nights a week. I think we can do better.”
I squint my mind’s eye, trying to imagine him and the contents of his apartment squeezing into my one-bedroom Murray Hill apartment. Let’s just say that it’s not a fit.
“So…Are you talking about us, what, getting an apartment together?” I ask.
“Well, yeah. The idea is for us to spend more time together.”
“Yeah, but I’ll still be working all the time whether you’re here or still in D.C.,” I remind him. I don’t know why I feel this strange compulsion to talk him out of the exact thing that most dating women of childbearing age want. “That won’t change.”
“I get that. But I’ll still see you a hell of a lot more than eight days out of the month.”
“But…you love D.C.”
“I love New York, too,” he says, shrugging easily, then downs the rest of his beer.
“What about your lease?”
“It’s up in a couple of months.”
“Oh,” I say faintly.
He takes a closer look at me. The kind of look for which I am definitely ill-prepared at the moment. All that bright happiness evaporates.
“It was just an idea,” he says dully. “Forget I said anything. We don’t have to if you’re not ready.”
Is that what this sensation is? That I’m not ready? I try the feeling on for size but can’t decide whether it’s a fit or not. I open my mouth, but another delay kicks in, one that makes my ambivalence all the more awkward.
“Whoa,” he says, eyes widening. “You don’t see yourself going any further with me? Is that it?”
“No,” I say, the suggestion jarring me into action. I want to get married one day when the time is right. Bruce checks all the appropriate boxes. Of course I’ve thought about taking next steps with him. But the next steps were always at some vague and indeterminate point in the future, when things in my life were…I don’t know. More settled, I guess. Like when I knew where I’d have my fellowship, for instance. “That’s not it at all. I’m just surprised. You’ve been thinking about this already. I just need time to get my mind around it and figure out the logistics. That’s all.”
His expression clears. “That’s all? You sure?”
I blink and crank my reassuring smile into place. “Absolutely.”
“So you’re open to the idea? And to me pursuing the transfer?”
“Of course I am.”
“Good,” he says, coming in for a kiss before sliding his lips around to my ear. “Because I’m starting to have serious feelings for you.”
The ear thing gets me every time, I admit. I soften, wondering what the hell is wrong with me tonight. Bruce and I are taking next steps, which is what grownups do. Hallelujah for that.
“Good,” I say, grinning as I let him reel me in.
3
Michael
“What’s the problem?”
I’m over at the bar, nursing a foul mood and waiting for my second scotch and soda, when Jake finds me a few minutes later. Having just witnessed Ally and her boyfriend engage in their display of public affection—I’m a glutton for punishment; what can I say?—all I want to do is wallow in bitterness and self-pity until this godforsaken boat returns to shore and I can slink home in peace. I’m not much of a drinker, but tonight seems like the ideal time to rectify that.
In short? Now is not the time for Jake and his stupid questions.
“There’s no problem,” I tell Jake.
“Are we going to grab a plate or not? They opened the buffet, but you’re out here navel-gazing.”
“You go ahead. I’ll grab something in a minute.”
Jake frowns at me. “Since when do you miss meals?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say with a grateful nod at the bartender as