Page 8 of The Better Sister

“Formerbrother-in-law,” she reminded me. “Nicky’s convinced that’s why he’s moving there—to be with you.”

“Nicky’s paranoid,” I said. “He has a good job here, Mom. Like,reallygood. And, besides, I have a boyfriend. Matt, remember?”

Nicky was wrong about anything going on between Adam and me back then, but I wasn’t wholly uninvolved in Adam’s move to the city. He had been trying to make things work as a divorced dad in Cleveland, downsizing to an apartment and finding a day care two blocks from the courthouse that a lot of the female prosecutors relied on. My mom and dad even pitched in sometimes, since Adam’s parents had both passed away while he was still in college, not that he would have wanted them around his son in any event.

But Nicky was still a problem. A couple of cops had mentioned seeing her acting sloppy in the usual haunts, and she had shown up twice at day care without permission—both times acting intoxicated. It had gotten to the point that Adam had to tell the day care and babysitters to call 911 if they received any contact from her. He’d never really be able to protect Ethan while he was still in Cleveland.

I was the one who slipped his résumé to a friend who worked in the US Attorney’s Office. Apparently the hiring team thought they could use some lawyers who didn’t go to the same five law schools, and they were also touched by Adam’s personal story. He had needed a judge’s permission to move, but the combination of Nicky’s bad behavior and an offer to be a federal prosecutor in the most prestigious district in the country had done the trick.

I helped him find an apartment in Tribeca. It wasn’t exactly Brooklyn Heights, but it was kid-friendly by Manhattan standards, and not too far from his office. It was also a straight shot to my place in Chelsea. I became his regular Wednesday-night babysitter. The highlight of my week was seeing Ethan’s chubby little face light up when he saw his aunt “Glow-y.” He hadn’t spoken until he was nearly four, even with the work of speech therapists, so every word—however imperfect—was exciting to hear.

At the time, my only goal in life as far as kids were concerned was to be the beloved aunt. Even though women weren’t supposed to say this, I never particularly liked babies or little kids. You hear people say that one of the greatest rewards of parenthood is seeing your children develop into adults, but with my parents and Nicky, I’d seen the downside of that equation as well. I knew at some cognitive level that my parents were proud of me, and took some amount of responsibility for the fact that I’d turned out pretty well by most measures. But was it worth all the heartache they’d suffered because of their children overall?

As far as motherhood was concerned, I could leave it just as well as take it.

Some weeks, Adam didn’t have a need for my sitting services, so we’d hang out instead, ordering takeout and playing with Ethan. I could see how hard it was for him to adjust to Manhattan. He was a nice, good-looking thirty-five-year-old man with a cool job in a fun neighborhood. In theory, he could be out with models every night. But he also had Ethan, and he was too solid of a guy to be serious with any woman who didn’t take an interest in his son.

For more than a year, we were just buddies. Then my birthday happened.

I had sent out invitations to four other couples, a month in advance, for a dinner party at my apartment. I’d need to rent an extra table, and borrow a taxi-trunk full of folding chairs from the office, but I was thrilled to be able to host a bona fide adult dinner party. I was turning twenty-nine. I was done drinking from red Solo cups. I scouredFood & Winefor the perfect menu, something impressive, but still manageable on my own. When I didn’t have a pot large enough to hold the braised short ribs I wanted, I bought one. When Matt asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I snipped a page from the Williams Sonoma catalog and asked him for a white serving platter, and could I please have it the day before the party, just in case something was wrong and I needed to exchange it?

I never did get the platter. Four days before my birthday, Matt dumped me. He said he was young and still having fun, and that my birthday had him realizing that his friends had been right about me all along.

“I thought your friends liked me.”

“They do. But you’re...a lot, Chloe. I can’t do this with you.”

“Dowhat?”

“Be that couple. With the parties and the platters and the Sunday Styles wedding announcement.”

“Wedding? I never said anything about getting married.”

“You didn’t have to. You plan every single thing, and then you’re miserable once it’s over and go looking for the next thing to worry about. I guarantee you, the second this party’s over, you’ll be pressing me about Christmas. And New Year’s. And then an engagement ring on Valentine’s Day.”

I gave Adam the abbreviated version the following night during our regular Wednesday hangout. We were sitting on the floor, putting more effort into the Legos than Ethan was.

“You know what’s really embarrassing? I actually asked him if he could go to the dinner on Saturday anyway.”

“Oof.”

“I know. But now I’m going to be the ninth wheel at my own party. Is it too late to cancel?”

“Donotcancel. Being with your friends will cheer you up. Besides...” He reached over and touched my ankle. “You’re smart and successful and pretty nice to look at. You’d have no problems finding another plus-one, if that’s what you wanted.”

The moment sat in the air. His hand felt warm against my skin. I honestly don’t believe I’d ever thought about the possibility before then, but it was there now. I waited for him to say more. Todomore, but he went back to fiddling with the castle he was building.

“The last thing I need right now is to grovel for a date,” I said. “Maybe I’ll just leave the empty chair next to me and let my friends nominate potential candidates.”

He showed up at my apartment at six o’clock, because after a year in New York, he knew no one ever started a party before six. He had a gift box from Williams Sonoma. It was the platter I wanted, even though I’d never told him that part.

Nothing happened that night, but we were definitely different than we were before. He wasn’t Nicky’s ex, or Ethan’s dad. He was there for me. It was like we had a pact. It was going to happen. It was inevitable.

5

When my eyes opened the morning after the gala, I saw the crystal typewriter with my name etched into it, next to a tumbler of water and a container of melatonin from Vitamin Shoppe. Last night, I had won a prize. Before I registered anything else, I recognized Adam’s scent, a mix of grocery store soap and something like salt. My right leg was hitched over his thigh, and my face was pressed against his chest. I felt a dribble of spit as I lifted my head.

Adam was already awake. He was holding an iPad above his face, reading the news. The image on his screen was a photograph of me standing next to Darren Pinker.

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