Page 136 of Caper Crush
“If you hadn’t started dating him, would I have had a chance?” he asks. “I think I had a chance when I first suggested coming.”
“I don’t think I gave that impression,” I say softly. “I told you I was excited to see you, but that I didn’t think we should get back together.”
“But we really could be this art world power couple,” he says.
“I don’t want to be an art world power couple. I want my art to be famous, not me.”
“That’s true. You’ve always said that. But nowadays with social media, that’s a lot harder,” he says. “And you’re still singing for the band. You could be this rock star artist.”
“I already am a rock star artist.”
Peter laughs. “I guess you are. I guess you don’t need me anymore.”
“I want you in my life, just not as my lover. But I also understand if you don’t want to do that.”
What if William doesn’t even want to be friends? Are we going to have to establish separate times for visiting Uncle Tony and Takashi?
“I still want to be friends,” Peter says. “I’m sorry for saying that to William. I wanted to be up front about my intentions. Do you want me to tell him that I give my blessing to your relationship?”
“No, that’s not necessary.” That’s all I need, for Peter to find out that William and I are no longer dating.
“Okay, let’s set a dinner date for next week,” Peter says. “I’ll also see you at your show.”
We set a dinner date. And then I call William. His voice mail answers. I hang up.
I staple together another canvas. I should at least paint. I can’t believe he’s not even taking my calls.
I should probably prepare my annual report for him. I call him again and leave a voice mail message. “Hi, I’m hoping we can meet this week. The sooner the better. I need to …” I’m afraid he may not meet me if I say I need to see him to tell him that I want to stay together. “Well, I need my stuff. And I don’t want to end it the way we ended it.”
That’s truthful but ambiguous enough.
I turn on my laptop to write my annual report summary. When I finally finish, I check my phone. William left a message. I forgot to turn my ringer on.
“It’s William. Look, I’m also sorry about how things ended. I … uh … so yes, let’s meet tomorrow. At the Seventy-Second Street Pier.”
Another chance.
Chapter forty
Thebreezewhipsmyhair around as I walk along the Hudson River to the pier. So much for styling it. The water is choppy, turbulent, like my stomach.Breathe, breathe.The wind whistles through my sweater. No coat today. A sweater and a miniskirt would have to do. I’d sweat too much in a coat when pleading my case. Abandoned wood pilings that used to support a pier stand alone, the waves slapping against them, slowly wearing them down.
My thigh-high boots click-clack on the walkway.
A tall figure is standing at the end of the pier, his back to me. He’s even earlier than I am. Maybe I should have mailed the annual report to him. No, I want this chance to talk in person.
He turns around as I approach.
The wind is ruffling his hair, but his eyes look warm. A guitar case leans against the fence. It can’t be his. He’s holding a bento box. If he had two, I’d feel more hopeful.
“I don’t want to break up,” I say. “I heard about what Peter said to you, but I don’t want to date Peter, I want to date you.”
He smiles. “I don’t want to break up either. I wanted to give you a clean slate to date Peter if you wanted to, but I regretted it immediately.”
We’re standing there, staring at each other. I want to hug him, but I’ve got the wrapped collage under one arm and my bag with my annual report.
“Good. You should regret it. But I want you to also know why we work, so you don’t doubt our relationship.” I put down the painting, leaning it against the iron, chain-link fence. The waves thwack against the pier, and the air smells salty. “I’ve prepared an annual report.”
“An annual report?” His eyebrow quirks upward.
