I think, If that’s the best you came up with all day, I’m really in big trouble , but I say, “I’ve always wanted to run a marathon.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You say that,” Jess says. “You say that in the same way I fancy myself the sort of girl who would enjoy snow-boarding and bungee jumping and white-water rafting. I wish I liked adventure sports. But you know what? I don’t. They’re scary. They’re not fun. So no, thanks And you might think you want to run a marathon, but c’mon, do you really want to run twenty-six-plus miles? Do you really want to get up at the butt crack of dawn and train? No . You don’t. So let the dream die, already.”
“I guess so,” I say. “I don’t know I know that this shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. Nothing has really changed since I went to Italy with Richard or talked to Ben or saw those Internet results. I’m in the exact same place I always was, or have been since I got a divorce. So I’m really not sure why I feel so much worse now”
“Well, suspecting that Ben is in a relationship was one thing. Confirmation is another. It’s hard. I get that.”
“I know. But I really thought I was moving on,” I say, recalling my dad’s pep talk at lunch. “Richard or no Richard, I thought I was okay with my decision.”
“You are okay, Claudia. You did make the right decision,” she says. “It’s just that moving on sometimes consists of some minor setbacks along the way. You had to have your rebound guy in Richard. You had to worry about Ben’s rebound girl. Which is probably all Tucker is in the long run. But regardless of whether she is or isn’t, you are moving on.”
“Just like you’re moving on and forgetting Trey?” I say hopefully.
“Exactly!” she says, grinning. “He’s actually coming into town next week. He left me a message. But I haven’t called him back.”
I shoot her a dubious look.
“I swear I haven’t. And I’m not going to. I’m done with him. You need to be done with Ben, too.”
I nod and say okay.
“So here’s to fresh starts,” she says, raising her glass.
“To fresh starts,” I say, thinking that this time I almost, very nearly, mean it.
We then proceed to get really drunk together, and it feels just like old times, when a few cocktails at a trendy lounge could fix just about anything.
I don’t mention Ben and Tucker for another few days, until one of my authors, Ethan Ainsley, stops by to say hello. Ethan recently moved from London to New York which made me happy because he is one of my few authors who has a perfect score on my four-point checklist, namely: (1) I like him; (2) I like his writing; (3) his books sell; and (4) he’s reliable. More typically, I like the author and the writing but the books aren’t as commercially successful as I’d hoped. Or I like the writing and the books sell well, but the author is pompous and unreliable.
So when Ethan appears smiling in my doorway, I smile back and tell him to come in, have a seat.
“Look what I got this morning,” I say, handing him a mock-up of his next book jacket that the art director just gave me. “What do you think?”
Ethan looks down at the stark navy cover adorned only with a small, white pillow and breaks into a huge smile. “I love it,” he says. “It’s so simple but perfect.”
“I know,” I say. “I think it’s really good.”
“Those guys in the art department are brilliant,” he says. “Let’s just cross our fingers that people judge my book by this cover.”
I smile and say, “So what’s doing? Just in the neighborhood?”
“Yeah. I was over at Paragon picking up ski gear We’re taking the boys on a little ski trip.”
“That sounds fun,” I say.
“Yeah. Should be a good time,” he says.
“How is your family?”
“Good. John and Thomas just started kindergarten and, in bigger news, they have a little sister on the way!” Ethan says, beaming.
“Ethan! That’s awesome news!” I say, feeling genuinely happy for him. “Darcy really wanted a girl, didn’t she?”
I suddenly realize that I might be confusing his wife with a character named Ellen in his first book. It’s something I often do when it comes to Ethan’s books, because in one of our early conversations, right after I bought his manuscript, he admitted how much his novel mirrored his own life and marriage. Specifically, he confided that like the hero in his book, he fell in love with a girl, despite her baggage, despite her flaws, despite his own fervent wishes to be free, unencumbered, and blissfully alone. All that went out the window. Because he just had to be with her. Needless to say, I was fascinated when I met Ethan’s wife at his first book signing last year, and after only a five-minute conversation with her, I could see why he had fallen so hard for her. She was charming, unaffected, and drop-dead gorgeous.