Page 81 of Someone Just Like You

“Whose side are you on?” I asked, only half joking. “Leaving Gotham is one thing, but taking a job with Ceiling Crashers is a whole other ballgame.” I winced at the accidental baseball reference.My plan was to be a baseball player.“I don’t know much about Manhattan real estate these days except a one-bedroom apartment in a doorman building with private outdoor space would be way outside my budget if I worked with Rosaria. I’d have to sell.”

“Should I be insulted? I live in a doorman-less building where the closest thing to a balcony is the fire escape and I’m quite happy with it,” Esther said.

“No! I love your place,” I insisted, glancing around her apartment. It was the truth. “But I also have student loans. All I’m saying is it’s not the easy decision Jude thinks it is.” I brought her throw blanket to my chin. “Am I a type-A bore, Esther?”

My best friend studied me fondly. “Would you be my bestie if you were?” She tapped my leg through the blanket. “You, my dear, are just very bad at letting things happen.”

“With good reason. Case in point, Jude’s bike tire. Even tonight, I hadn’t planned to yell at him. It happened because I let my anger and frustration with Michael get the best of me. Whenever I act spontaneously, things go wrong, unlike when I follow a carefully constructed plan.”

Esther’s expression was dubious. “Maybe it’s less about planning and more about learning to control your emotions.”

I sniffled.

“What are you going to do now?”

“No idea. I tried to explain my motives to Jude, and he didn’t want to hear it. And he…well…if he can’t stand me again, there’s not much I can do about it. Either way, it stung. I think I need to cool off before I do anything. But…” I shoved her lightly. “How did Jerry wind up in your bed?”

A smile crept out in the seconds before she pressed her lips tightly together. “After my date the night we had drinks at Sachi, I went to Duane Reade for snacks. Bad dates and cocktails make me crave sugar. Jerry was in the candy aisle staring between the Twizzlers and the Swedish fish like he carried the weight of the world with his decision.”

She cocked her head to the side while remembering. “I told him to buy both, and he stumbled at my voice into a display of protein bars.” She chuckled. “Something tugged at my heartstrings, and I asked him to come out with me for a drink. We went to Ted’s, and I’m not sure if it was the disappointment from another bad Tinder match, what you said about giving Jerry or Alex a chance, or just plain old horniness, but I invited him back to my place.” Her gaze went distant.

“And how…how was it?” It wasn’t lost on me it was two days later. “Did you invite him back, or has he been here the entire time?”

“He hadn’t left until you arrived.” Her lips curled up. “It was the biggest surprise of my life. Pun intended.”

I snorted, then buried my face in my hands and lost it. Esther joined me, and we laughed until my belly ached. It hurt so good. I took a deep breath and let it out. “Thank you. It was just the distraction I needed.”

“I can say the same about Jerry.” She whistled through her teeth. “Who knew the boy was so agile?”

I shuddered. “I don’t need the racy details. Just like I don’t tell you about Jude.” My face fell.Jude.

I pressed my palms onto the couch and pushed myself to a standing position. “Thank you for taking a break from your sexcapades for me, but let me go so you can call back Mr. Agility. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been loitering outside your door this entire time.”

“Anytime.” She pulled me into a hug.

I fell into her embrace wishing I could stay there, safely cocooned, a little while longer or at least until I knew what to do about Jude.

Because right now, I hadn’t the faintest idea.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Almost a week later, I was on my follow-up call with Romero, who’d just reported his second interview with Pro City Sportswear had gone well. “I’m so glad. Hopefully, they’ll decide soon,” I said.

I placed my office phone on speaker and slid my iPhone closer to me. It was already open to my text exchange with Jude. The last messages were the ones we sent right before our fight, when he told me to come over because he had something to show me. I hadn’t spoken to him since I left his apartment in tears.

“I’ll be waiting by the phone,” Romero said.

I pulled myself back to the present. “Who did you meet with?”

I was dying to reach out and apologize for pushing Jude about the restaurant. I was desperate to encourage him to take all the time he needed—not rush on my account because of some imaginary naughty list. But why should I beg forgiveness from someone who called me a “type-A bore”? Someone who threw my biggest regret in my face—the loss of his baseball career—after claiming to have forgiven me. And sure, what I’d said about him stupidly riding the bike wasn’t much better, but to channel my eight-year-old self, he started it.

I clicked out of the messages and back in before flipping the phone over with a sigh. My arms ached from the need to hug him, my lips were cold from missing the heat of his, and my brain was full of all the wacky observations it had stored to share with him if we ever reconciled. In simple terms, I missed him. I even missed our pre–anniversary party hijinks. He was the most fun I ever had. He’d been right all those months ago when he said I liked fighting with him. But I enjoyed getting along with him way more.

Unaware of my inner turmoil, Romero was answering my question. “…the senior legal counsel, and Maxine Posner, the vice president of legal.”

I snapped to attention. “Did you say Maxine Posner?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

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