Page 15 of The One Where They Fall in Love

Are you comparing me to a car insurance commercial?

Elle

That depends, do you also watch documentaries about submarines?

Oliver

No comment.

“Can you explain this arrangement to me again?” Lucy asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. She’s sitting on the carpet in front of my TV with Thor on her lap. Her thick mahogany hair is up in a curled ponytail, with long bangs framing her face. Her eyes are painted with an elegant gray eyeshadow and a sleek cat-eye. It’s a stark contrast to the sweatpants and oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, because she’s procrastinating getting dressed.

“I’m babysitting his dog while he’s at work. It’s not that weird, is it?”

“I guess not, but it’s just unusual for you,” Lucy says with a shrug. “I’m happy about it—especially if he’s as beautiful as you say he is.”

“I didn’t say he was beautiful!”

“No, maybegorgeouswas the word you used?” I can feel my cheeks turning red, and Lucy cackles with delight.

“Would you get dressed already? I’m waiting on you, babe,” I say, trying to change the subject. Lucy groans, rising from the floor and slinking off to the bathroom as I evaluate myself in the floor length mirror propped against the wall next to my bed. It’s a dressy night for both of us. Even though we’re only going to Barnes and Noble in Union Square, there are going to be upwards of a hundred people there, and we’re taking Ruby out for dinner afterwards.I’m wearing a one-shoulder green sweater dress that is a bit more form-fitting than I’m used to. I’m used to wearing oversized clothes to downplay my boobs as much as I can, but they are pretty much front and center in this ensemble. I take a look at the clock and realize there’s no changing now. Front and center it is.

Lucy emerges in a deep red satin dress with tights and knee-high boots. We look each other up and down and laugh.

“Shit, we lookgood!” Lucy exclaims. I shake my head at her and we take a few photos in front of the mirror, kiss Thor on the nose, and head out. He seems to be thrilled with the bone I give him before we leave, so hopefully he won’t be too unsettled.

When we arrive at the store, crowds are already lining up in the lobby. Since it’s so cold out, the managers must be letting fans wait there for the event instead of outside. Lucy and I show our I.D.s and head up the escalator to the third floor. Before I moved to New York, I thought my local library was the best place in the world. And then I learned there are bookstores with escalators. Meaningmultiplefloors. I was in heaven.

There’s a large open area on the third floor that the store uses for events. Since Ruby is so popular, there are folding chairs canvassing pretty much every square inch of the space.

“Well, this is an example of whatwon’tbe happening for my book,” Lucy mumbles as we take off our coats.

“Given that Ruby has written like twenty books and you’ve written one, maybe it’s not realistic to make that comparison.” I shoot Lucy a knowing look.

“Yeah, yeah. Where’s Anne?” Lucy asks, brushing me off. “Wow, they even built up a stage for Ruby. Most authors just sit on a folding chair…”

Lucy’s voice trails off as we both spot our boss on the stage. She’s waving her hands in a way that only an Italian woman from Brooklyn can, her ringlet curls bouncing with each erratic move of her arms. She’s in high heels and a pencil skirt, which both Lucy and I raise our eyebrows at. Because Anne is many things, but coordinated is not one of them. And she should never wear such a constricting skirt with heels.

Anne must have heard Lucy say her name, because she turns towards us. But before the words “Oh my God,” can escape Lucy’s lips, we watch Anne’s knee buckle, and she goes tumbling off the stage.

Eight

Oliver

It’s the third night in a row that I’ve let Elle babysit Thor, and I’ve regretted it pretty much every moment since I agreed to it.

Elle told me she had a work outing tonight, and while I offered to get a dog walker, or leave Thor in my apartment, she insisted that her friend visiting from out of town would want to meet him. I pointed out howherleaving him isn’t different frommeleaving him, but I didn’t get very far with that argument. Since my schedule is backwards today, I should be home not long after she leaves. Hopefully Thor will be okay for a little while.

So to prove to me that Thor is having a “good time,” she sent me a collection of photos she took of him before she left for her event. In every one Thor is wearing a different band t-shirt. The last one was Ed Sheeran. The most recent one is the Jonas Brothers: Thor is sitting on a green chair, perfectly composed, with a pair of huge white sunglasses on his face. He has beaded necklaces around his neck,a bandana tied around one leg, and a cut-up t-shirt that has “Burnin’ Up” written on the front in bold red letters.

I’m never letting this woman near my dog again.

I’m pretty much dead on my feet tonight, having worked two twelve hour shifts over the last two days. My smart watch has yelled at me no less than seven times that I’ve hit my standing goal. The last time I yelled, “No shit, Sherlock!” at it, much to the surprise of all the nurses at the desk I was standing next to.

The same watch also notified me of another missed call from my father. I took the damn thing off after that.

My father has called me three times this week and I’ve ignored him every time. I’ve barely spoken to my parents since I moved back, not including the “welcome home” gathering my mother planned at the airport for my arrival. My father wasn’t there. Shocking.

I spoke to my mother last week, and she regaled me with all of the stories of Sophia’s first two weeks in Italy. It’s astounding to me how parents can treat two children so differently. For as long as I can remember, the expectations for me were clear: Go to Stanford, just like my dad. Become a surgeon, just like my dad. Probably marry another doctor, just like my dad. Provide for my family. Live a stable life. All this time, I’ve never stepped a foot out of line.