“You snooze, you lose,” I said, sipping my beer. He leaned in to me and gave me a brief kiss before heading back outside, and I sat basking in the glow of it until I noticed the bartender staring at me, stone-faced. He knows, I thought. If he doesn’t actually know Peter’s wife personally, he knows this is an affair. I’m sure he’s seen a million girls just like me in this town. I picked up my phone and called a car to the diner.
We spent Saturday in the spa, and as far as I could tell, the only actual break Peter took from his phone was for his sixty-minute massage. I was bracing myself for the announcement that came around four o’clock that afternoon while we were in robes on his couch, each on our laptops.
“Alex, I’m so sorry, but I have to get back to the city. But I want to take you for dinner tonight. Can we just head out first thing tomorrow? I know we were planning to . . .”
“Of course. I expected this,” I said, and smiled softly. I was surprised it had taken so long to suggest leaving early, and I was even more surprised he still wanted to spend Saturday night. We went to the local steakhouse for a decadent dinner and a bottle of red wine, and we were both peacefully asleep immediately upon our heads hitting the pillows, without so much as the suggestion of sex. We woke up at six on Sunday morning and headed back to the city just as dawn was breaking.
“I love that you get it.” Peter kept his eyes on the road as he spoke.
“Hmm?” I answered, slowly sipping at the coffee we had stopped for.
“Leaving early would have been a fight with my wife. It’s really nice for me that you get it.” He placed his palm on my knee. I nodded, thinking the same was true from my perspective. We drove home alternating between work discussions, singing along to 1970s music on the radio, and me reading Peter’s emails to him and him dictating his responses to me. I felt a new level of intimacy between us that came from sleeping next to but not with Peter.
I made Peter drop me a block from my apartment, just in case Sam was outside. As he pulled up to the corner of Twentieth and Eighth, he cleared his throat. “Hey. You know, Gary keeps telling me to remind you that we’re his guests at the Private Equity Fights Hunger gala at the Met in a few weeks.”
“I can’t wait!” My cheeks flushed, and my mind raced with the anticipation of another backseat rendezvous, this time in black tie. I smiled back at Peter and gave him a small wave. He held up his palm to me as he drove away.
I was dragging my small rolling suitcase down the bumpy city sidewalk, replaying the amazing, though abbreviated, weekend over in my mind, when a baritone voice punctured my thoughts. “Looks like you could use a hand.”
I looked up, prepared to stare straight through whatever asshole was bothering me, and saw two men, one of them beaming in my direction. He seemed much taller than I remembered, perhaps because I had only ever worn heels around him. He was wearing sweats, and his skin glowed, like he was coming from a tough workout.
“Derrick!” I took my hand off my suitcase and wrapped my arms around his neck as he bent low into me to return the embrace.
I turned to his friend. “I’m Alex.”
“Sean,” he said, stretching his hand out to me, his smooth pale skin almost glowing. I shook it as he turned to Derrick. “You two catch up. I’ll meet you back—” He stopped his sentence short and took off down the street.
“It’s good to see you. How are you? You look so good!” I gushed.
“I am good!” He nodded convincingly. “It took a minute to regain my footing, but now I’m good. Are you heading home? Can I help you to your door?”
I was too exhausted to protest, and he lifted my rolling suitcase effortlessly and fell into step alongside me.
“So believe it or not, I’m working for the Brady campaign on new gun-control policies to present to Congress,” he told me. “I’ve never been happier. It’s pretty amazing how people act dumb, make mistakes, and then we wind up in the exact position we need to be in. It’s a subconscious life-saving technique, I guess.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I said, squeezing his forearm so he knew I meant it. We walked in silence a few more paces before I slowed my gait. “This is my block,” I said, pointing east as we turned. “I wanted to call you so many times. And I tried to find you on social media . . .” I trailed off, covering my eyes to shield them from the sun’s glare.
“Yeah, I just needed to disappear for a bit to recharge. And to figure out who I was again. I was so tired of being who everybody wanted me to be at Klasko. The black playboy, the token diversity seat at a table with clients, the voice for all minorities at the firm. It was exhausting. And I didn’t feel like I fit the mold for any of them, but I think I tried so hard to be those things that I went overboard.”
I nodded. “I get it.”
“No offense, but you don’t.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” I said, slumping. “But I do get being stereotyped . . . as the ‘good girl.’ And I get the urge to break out of it.”
His expression invited me to continue.
“I just got back from a weekend with Peter Dunn at his ski house. I had him drop me off a block away in case my boyfriend was outside our building.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at Derrick as I spoke.
“Just you and Peter?”
I bit my lower lip to keep the tears at bay, and was only able to manage a small shrug.
“Must have been so terrible for you, playing the part of the good girl who got all the attention from clients and partners,” Derrick said, his tone gently mocking me as his lips formed a half smile.
I felt a laugh escape my mouth even as tears spilled out the corners of my eyes. “I just blew up my entire life. I don’t even know why I did it. It was a good life.” I looked up at my building and imagined Sam inside, waiting for me. “I don’t even know why I’m crying, because the most fucked-up thing is, I’ve never been happier. I’m the only person on earth who feels like she’s living her best life while having an affair.”
“Life is fucked up sometimes,” Derrick said, then paused. “My life was super messy a few months ago, but things settle. They always do.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “When I left Klasko, my dad got wind of what happened, and I could have denied it, but I came clean. You know his one and only question? He asked if the hooker they caught me with was a woman. I could see the relief in his eyes when I told him yes. So screwed up.” I gave him a snort of sympathetic disgust. “The hooker was just . . . a show. That guy was my boyfriend,” he continued, gesturing down the block.
I wiped my nose and smiled. “He’s cute.”
“You’re not surprised?”
“I sort of always wondered if you were gay. But I didn’t know until Carmen and I met your ex-boyfriend at Bergdorf’s.”
“James? Carmen met him, too? Fuck!” Derrick ran his palm over his head in annoyance. “Now I bet everybody knows. Whatever, it doesn’t matter now.” He sounded a bit like he was convincing himself. “I don’t have to worry what those people think anymore. And I’m all about living a more authentic life now anyway.” He seemed more certain of it in that moment.