Page 48 of Buttons

“Well, start thinking.” Trey’s voice softens slightly. “Because if you want any chance with Elowen—and I’m not saying you deserve one—then you need to cut Carmella out completely.”

“I know.”

“I don’t mean telling her you aren’t interested in dating her. I mean, send her a clear message that your friendship, professional life, or whatever you want to call it, is permanently over. If that’s what you want.”

“Of course it’s what I want.”

“Then prove it. Starting with Carmella. Tell her to leave you alone in all regards, then delete her number. No…block her number.”

I absorb his words. “You’re right,” I say again, the words coming easier this time.

“I know I am.” Trey’s voice carries a hint of his usual humor now. “And for what it’s worth, I really am sorry about the bar thing. I honestly thought she knew. It’s a total meet-cute.”

“It’s not your fault.” Another admission that would have been impossible an hour ago.

We talk for a few more minutes, Trey offering suggestions on approaching Carmella that range from practical to absurd. When we hang up, I remain seated on the floor with my back against the wall.The floor! Realizing I have no idea when this carpet was last vacuumed and steam cleaned, I jump up and brush off my pants.

Note to self: Virginia needs to vacuum nightly.

I stand, pocket my phone, and straighten my shoulders. The path forward isn’t about winning Elowen back through another cold strategy. That would be a bitter irony. Instead, it’s about becoming the kind of man who deserves another chance.

It’s late, so I decide to go home. Thank goodness Elowen has the kids. I’d hate to have a babysitter watch them all hours of the day and through the night.

The parking garage is nearly empty, with only a few scattered cars belonging to other corporate die-hards who can’t seem to go home at a reasonable time. I sit in my Audi with the engine off and pull out my phone.

The text message field glows empty. How do you invite someone to dinner when your only purpose is to end a decade-long friendship? Is there a protocol for that? Elowen would know, but I don’t think asking her would be appropriate. Plus, she’s likely asleep.

I type out a first attempt:Carmella, I’d love to catch up over dinner this week. Are you free Thursday evening? We could try that new place on Madison you mentioned.

I stare at the words, dissatisfied. They’re way too friendly. My intent was to give her one final happy memory before I end our friendship, but the “I’d love” phrase feels wrong and is actively misleading.

Delete. It’s just a text message. I can do this. Don’t overthink it.

Second attempt:We need to talk. Dinner Thursday, 8 p.m., Carlyle’s.

Hmm. Too abrupt, and somehow, it sounds like the beginning of something rather than the end. Plus, Carlyle’s is not the vibe I’m going for. The cheapest menu item is forty dollars. She’ll get excited.

Delete.

I run a hand through my perfectly styled hair, destroying the Julian Plaza brand. What’s my goal here? To end on a happy note with Carmella, where there is no ill will, go our separate ways, be up front, and respect Elowen.

I take a deep breath and type again, aiming for something between my previous attempts, which highlights my intention:Carmella, would you be available for dinner at Castellano’s this Thursday at 8? There’s something important I’d like to discuss.

Perfect. Castellano’s is a mid-scale restaurant. It’s not too high-end to suggest we’ll be ordering champagne, but better than Taco Bell at midnight. We’ll have one more good meal together, have a discussion about our ending friendship, and then return to our lives as we always should have.

My message is enough to show respect for our history, but not so intimate that it suggests romance. I read it once more, then hit send before I can overthink it. My phone pings almost immediately.

Julian! I’d LOVE to see you Thursday. Castellano’s is perfect. They have a private back room we can sit in. I’ve been hoping we could talk properly and get all misunderstandings out of the way.

Uh…okay. It reads both good and bad. Misunderstandings can imply that she’s aware I misled her into thinking there could ever be more to our relationship. But it could always imply that she thinks my Tinder comment was a misunderstanding.

I keep Trey’s advice in my mind. Be direct. I’ll remember it on Thursday. What could I say now, anyway? “Actually, I’m taking you to dinner to end our friendship completely”? Better to have this conversation face-to-face, where I can make my position unmistakably clear. Text messages get skewed, and that isnotdirect.

I start the car, the engine’s sound filling the parking garage. As I pull out, I think about Elowen. I have no right to expect her forgiveness. No reason to believe that ending things with Carmella will somehow magically repair what I’ve broken, but I can hope anyway.

Because I’d choose an ended friendship with another woman if it leads to even a chance of reconciling with my wife. Either way, I’m ready to learn who Elowen and our children truly are.

Chapter 21