Page 65 of All Our Almosts

I roll my eyes, because what else could I possibly do—here, now, away from him. “He was not. That’s just how handsome people look when they’re listening.”

Mariane pokes me in the arm like a child. “So, you admit he’s handsome?”

“Mari!” I chide for the second time tonight—a feeble comeback.

“Here’s what I think,” she continues. “You remember when you told me the reason you love sticky notes? Because it’s easier to think clearly when something is right in front of you? Well, this man is right in front of you, Soph, so it’s time to start thinking clearly about what you want from him. Because I would bet anything he’s yours for the taking.”

She squeezes my arm once, then walks away. And it’s for the best, because I can barely remember how to speak. I need champagne. And I need Andy.

I walk back into the main event space to find the guests eating, drinking, and socializing much more boisterously than before. The room feels loud and full. It’s a sea of men in dark suits and women in colorful satin, with one human life raft floating in the middle.

My best friend is leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed, waiting for me.

“Hey,” I say, walking straight into his arms.

“You were amazing,” he says into my hair.

“Thanks.” I pull back to look at him. “Can we drink now, please?”

He laughs and follows my lead towards the bar. He’s a half-step behind me, and I feel a broad palm touch my lower back—feather light, only the slightest warmth pressing through my dress, down to the skin that wants more.

We order champagne as I silently remind myself I am at work right now, and I do not have the bandwidth to ask Andy what are we and what is happening and what if what if what if? Proving this point, I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to find our Board Chair behind me.

“Adira, hi!”

“I won’t keep you from celebrating,” Adira says, nodding down towards my glass. (I’m allowed to be drinking, I’ll have you know. But even so I feel mortified.) “I just wanted to personally congratulate you on an amazing launch.” Adira’s in her mid-70’s, with peachy skin, curly silver hair, and an air of subdued confidence. She shakes my free hand as she says, “Of course, I hope you’ll stay with the museum forever, but if you ever need a reference in the future I hope you will use my name.”

“Wow.” I shake her hand more rapidly, going for grateful but landing on crazy. “Thank you, that means so much. I honestly wasn’t sure how the trustees felt about this exhibit from the preview a few weeks ago.”

“You mean Jeff, right?” she asks with a scoff. “He’s an idiot.”

Andy turns his bark of laughter into a cough—unsubtly.

“But who cares about him?” Adira continues, handing me her business card. “Reach out to me directly if you ever need anything.”

20

Andy

If anyone asked me what happened after Sophie’s gala, I would say I barely remember. We got home tipsy, everything was a blur, then we fell asleep.

But that’s not true. I’ll remember every moment of it until I die.

It took Sophie a full minute to get the apartment door unlocked, due to the combination of three glasses of champagne and sheer giddiness. Watching her struggle with the key, I realized she’d barely eaten anything at the event.

“Do you want food, Soph?” I suggested as the door finally opened. “It didn’t seem like you had anything earlier.”

“Oh my god, do you know what I want so bad?” Sophie asked, rhetorically of course, because she was about to tell me. “Bread.”

“What kind of bread? We’ve got rye and I think some bagels, though they might be stale.”

I was heading towards the fridge when Sophie said, “No! You know what I really want?”

I looked back at her indulgently. “What?”

“Scallion. Pancakes.” She punctuated each word. “Please, Andy! If you love me at all please, please make me scallion pancakes.”

“Do we have scallions?”