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“Whenarethosepositionsannounced?”
Helooked atthedateon hiswatch. “In thenextfewdays.”
“Great.”Hervoicewashollow.Nothingseemedtomatteranymore.BeforeMax,allshe’dcared aboutwasstudying and getting a greatjob afteruniversity. Nowher lifeseemedtolackcolor.
“Howaboutthis,”hestarted,“tocheeryouup,wecandowhateveryouwantafterthelastclass today.Wecan catch amovie, orgetan earlydinner.Wecantrythis datingthing again.”
Shegavehimawaterysmile.“Iappreciateit,Alex,Ireallydo,butI’mjustnotinthemood.I’m justgoing togohomeafterlastclass.”
Hestudiedherforalongtimebeforehegaveashort,sharpnod.Heturnedtofacethewindow. “I getit,youknow.”
“Getwhat?”
“Youbrushingmeoffasnicelyasyoucan.You’reseeingsomeoneelse,aren’tyou?”Shesaid nothing. “And I’mprettysureit’syour boss.”
Gigi stiffened.
“Andit’sokay,”Alexcontinued.“IcoulddefinitelysensesomethingbetweenyoutwowhenI came over.”
Shestaredathim. “So whydid youkissme?”
Heshrugged,smilingbashfully.“Ihadtotry,didn’tI?”Helaughed,stoodupandkissedheron thehead.“Takeiteasy,Borello,”hesaid,Jen’snicknamefor her falling easilyfromhis lips.
Shefinishedhersandwich,andhadeveryintentionofgoingtoherfinalclassfortheday,butshe foundherfeettakingherinthedirectionofherapartmentinstead.Jenwasn’thomeyet,givingher timetoherself—timetogrieve.Shedumpedhermessengerbagonthefloorinherroomandwent intothebathroom,runningthebathwhileshesearched for a bottleofwinein thefridge.
Bythetimethewater was ready,Gigihadpouredherselfaglassofwineandhaditsetuponthe sideofthetubalongwith herphone.Itwastwoo’clocknow,andMaxwouldbetextingsoon.She wasdesperatetotalktohim,tofindouthowhewas. Undressing,shesteppedintothebath,hissing throughherteethas thehotwaterlappedatherbareskin.Shesubmergedherself,restingherhead backagainstthebath pillowand closing hereyes.
Shecouldn’tkeep going onthewayshewas. Yes,shemissed Max,buthe’dbarelybeengonea day.Therealitywaswhat ithadalwaysbeen:hewasalwaysgoingtoleaveandshewasgoingto continuestudyingandhopefullygetajobattheMuseumofNaturalHistory.Ifshefailedinthat, thenshe’d tryatanother museum.NewYorkwasn’tthebeallandend allforher,butitwasher first preference;shedidn’twanttobetoofarawayfromher parents.
Ifsomeonehadaskedherlastyearwhetherornotshe’dbemopingoveraguy,shewouldhave laughedintheirfaces.Butthingshadchanged.Alongtheway,shehadchanged.Herthoughtswere jarred whenher phonestarted toring. Picking itup,sheanswered thecall.
“Max?”
“Yeah,it’sme,”hereplied.Justthesoundofhisvoicesoothedherandsherelaxedbackinthe tub. “There’sanecho. Whereare you?”
“Thebath.”
“Fuck,Gigi.Why’dyou havetotellmethat?”he growled,hisvoicesending shiversalong herskin.
“How’syourmomdoing?”
Her question seemed tosober him. “I called her again beforeI leftNewYork. Shewasdoing okay. I’vejustlanded atLAX. I’m going to gostraighttothe hospital toseehernow.”
“Imissyou,Max,”shemuttered.
“Imissyou,too,Gigi.”
“Callmeafteryou leavethehospital.Itdoesn’tmatter whattimeitis.”
“I will.Talksoon.”
She hung up the phone and took a big drink from her wine glass. Shewouldn’t let this speedbumpinherlifedragherdown.Itcould veryeasilydistractherfromhergoalsin life,butshe wouldn’tletit.Shewasbetterthanthat—strongerthan that.
