Page 51 of The Best Part of Breaking Up

Sparkles of red, gold, and blue blossom in front of us, and suddenly the individual pops and booms become an overlapping roar. The grand finale is in full force, each burst more spectacular than the last, and I realize how long it’s been since I stopped and watched fireworks. Surely I’ve done it since that disappointing first kiss? A few times in college, for sure, when Meg and I sat on the bluffs of the river for a big holiday spectacle, but even then there was a lot of tequila and at least one hangover-inducing diver bucket from Silky O’Sullivan’s involved. But stone cold sober, in adulthood, with a guy who makes the energy in the room feel anticipatory, like standing at the edge of the world with a handful of lit firecrackers? This feeling is brand new.

The sky finally fades to dark. From here I can hear the boom of the announcer’s voice, can almost imagine the crowd cheering.

Down the hall, the elevator dings. I hear the doors slide open, followed by voices and laughter. It takes a moment to register, like it’s happening somewhere faraway, and then the lights flicker on in the hallway. The spell is broken. We blink at each other slowly, as if coming out of a trance. An unspoken understanding passes between us.

“I should go,” I say softly.

I almost want him to argue with me, but he doesn’t. He nods and extends his closed fist. I smirk before wrapping my fingers tight and bumping my knuckles half-heartedly against his, feeling at once satisfied and ridiculous. He lets his hand stretch wide in a mock explosion. I laugh as I gather myself up. I can feel him watching as I head for the door.

“You can still blame me for the billboard, and the minor concussion, and the Dr. Pepper, if you want,” he says. “Most people would.”

I turn back to see him silhouetted by the city light. Even in the dark he’s handsome. All the way across the room, I can still feel the magnetic pull of him. I lean against the doorframe as if I can use it to anchor myself, only briefly, before giving him a small nod.

“Thanks. I’m not really like most people.”

His gaze flickers.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” he says. “Good night, PBG.”

I keep my head down as I attempt to stroll casually towards the elevator, passing the curious stare of the overnight cleaning crew: a woman watering plants and a guy vacuuming the rugs. It’s only once I’m in the reflective quiet of the elevator, staring at my blurry reflection in the doors, that I realize I’m still smiling.

13.

I sweep into Henry’s office. “A billboard?”

“Isn’t it great?”

This is the confirmation I was looking for, but it feels anything but victorious. My stomach twists.

“It would have been great if someone had checked in with me on this,” I say. “I’m twelve feet tall.”

“Fourteen, actually. I hope it’s fourteen. We’re paying for fourteen.”

He acts like he’s searching for the ad contract.

“This isn’t about the extra two feet, Henry,” I argue. “Is this really what you and the partners think of me? That I’m some sort of joke?”

“A joke?” he says, baffled. “This is some of the best publicity we’ve ever had. People love the tagline.”

He’s midway through the jingle when I interrupt.

“This is exploitation.”

“This is a leg up,” he says, more serious now. “Clients are our business, and since that article came out, clients want you. You can use this to your advantage during the partnership vote. Quentin might be Erving’s grandson, but he’s not doing anything for the reputation of the firm. Eventually, someone’s going to dig up all the dirt on him, and I don’t plan for us to fall into that hole.”

“The car?” I guess, using that shred of gossip. “That’s old news.”

“The car, the drugs, that thing with the stepmothers,” Henry says, waving his hand as if swiping away cobwebs. “Not to mention the other family issues.”

This brings me up short. I want to stay out of it, write this off as more insidious gossip, but I hear myself asking, “What thing with the stepmothers?”

“I don’t know all the details, but I know it’s rumored he ran off three of them. Three! What kind of terror do you have to be to send three respectable women running for the hills?” he says vaguely. “But you and I both know, where there’s smoke there’s fire. Something is going to come up sooner or later.”

“What are you suggesting I do about it, Henry? I’m not a trained circus animal. These are a lot of damn hoops to navigate.”

“I want you two to work together, of course, but don’t get too tangledup with him.” He says this as if I am already in fact tangled up with him. He also seems to miss the way this makes me bristle. “When all this is over, I want you to walk away sparkling.”

He starts typing as if we’re done with this conversation. I roll my eyes in irritation, dragging myself out of the chair. For better or worse, since the ad went up, my calendar is beyond packed. He’s lucky I have meetings to get to.

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