“Really?”
The doubt in her voice nearly kills me and we aren’t even talking about the biggest obstacle in all of this. Where we live is nothing. People move all the time. What they don’t do is share their life with the world; open themselves up to questions and judgement and unwanted opinions.
“Yes, really,” I tell her as I arrive at Matt’s hotel.
“Okay,” she whispers, but I can tell she still isn’t convinced.
“Listen, I’ve got to go, I’m at Matt’s hotel. I’ll call you later?”
“Yes, okay. Have fun and say hi from me.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I will. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and slide my phone into my pocket before walking inside. We’re meeting in the hotel’s bar and when I walk toward it, I can see Matt already there, waiting for me. He’s got his back to me as he sits at the bar, nursing a beer and watching the TV hanging on the wall.
I take a deep breath and walk over, slapping him on the back as I take a seat on the stool beside him.
“Hey,” he says, offering a smile.
“Hi.”
The bartender walks over and takes my order and Matt and I sit in a weird silence as we both watch him grab a beer for me. When he places it in front of me and walks away, I immediately lift the bottle to my mouth and take a long sip.
“So,” Matt eventually says, turning to me. “How’d it go?”
It surprises me that he’s coming right out with it, but maybe he figures we should just get this conversation over and done with. “It was good,” I tell him. “We obviously found each other and I got to meet her sister and her dad, saw where she worked.”
Matt nods, turning back to the TV as he takes another sip of his beer. “And you’re like…together?”
“We are.”
He glances over, his eyes meeting mine. “So what, is she moving to Chicago or are you leaving?”
I exhale. “We haven’t sorted the details yet,” I admit. “But I’ll probably move to New York.”
“What and just give up the life you have here?” he immediately says and I can already hear the accusation in his tone.
I take a sip of my beer, forcing myself not to get annoyed by his comment. “I’d be making a new life with her.”
“Seriously?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, no longer able to hide my own anger. “Just say it, Matt, whatever it is you’re thinking, just say it.”
I watch as he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ve known her for a total of six days, Elliot,” he starts. “Before that you knew her for one night. One night that happened twelve years ago.”
“And,” I prompt.
“And how the fuck can you be so ready to give up everything you have here for something you have no idea will even last?”
“Of course that’s the first thing you’d think of,” I mutter, taking another sip of beer.
“I’m just trying to look out for you,” he says, his hard stare meeting mine.
I lift a brow. “Really, and here I thought you’d just want me to be happy.”
“Exactly,” he half shouts, his arms out wide. “And I know that if you give up everything you have to move somewhere you know no one, you’ll regret it.”
I finish my beer, gently putting the bottle on the counter. “I do know someone, Matt, I know her. Nora, the woman I’m in love with.”
“You used to be in love with Bridgitte,” he shouts back, no longer bothering to hold back.
I glance around the bar, grateful there aren’t many people here before turning back to my best friend. “I was,” I tell him. “But it was different and I know I can’t make you understand any of this and I realize how incredibly crazy it all looks, but you have to trust me when I say, I do know Nora and I do love her. In ways I can’t even begin to describe.”
Silence falls between us now and a part of me wonders if I shouldn’t just go, leave now before one of us says something we’ll regret. But then Matt signals to the bartender for another round and I realize that no matter how hard this is going to be, I can’t walk away from this either.
By the time we order dinner, the tension hasn’t really lifted. I’ve asked how Maggie is going and what they’ve been up to and aside from the short, one-word answers, Matt hasn’t really said much. Which is why it surprises me when he suddenly says, “She read Nora’s book.”
“Oh yeah, and?” I ask, my breath catching in my throat.
“She says it’s so romantic,” he says with a dramatic eye roll.
I can’t help the chuckle as I reply, “Obviously a little different to the real life version.”
“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t read it.”
His words shouldn’t surprise me, but they still feel like a punch to the gut, as though Matt really doesn’t care about any of this, but especially about my happiness.
“They want her to write a sequel to our story,” I say, needing to talk to someone about this, even if it is Matt. A part of me wants to protect Nora, especially given Matt’s reluctance to accept our relationship. But at the same time, I need to know if what I’m thinking, what I feel about this whole thing with publicizing our relationship, is justified or an overreaction.
“And?” he eventually asks.
“And I’m not sure,” I eventually say.
“Is it like a sequel or something?” he asks, surprising me.
I reach for my beer, taking a sip before lowering the bottle. I can feel him watching me, waiting for my answer and as much as I don’t want to create anymore hostility, I need to get this out. So taking a deep breath, I tell him everything. All the details about the second book, the book tour, the interviews, a possible Netflix series, everything.
When I’m finally done, Matt sits silently beside me, his face unreadable as he watches me.
“Well, just say it,” I say, waving a hand at him.
“Does Nora know how you feel?” Matt asks, again surprising me.
I nod. “She does, we’ve fought about since it first came up.”
“And?” he continues.
I exhale, scrubbing a hand down my face as I say, “I mean it wouldn’t exactly be our story. I mean the first story wasn’t entirely true.”
“But,” he prompts and even though he isn’t saying much, I know this is his way of letting me know it’s okay to talk, that he’s listening.
“But it wouldn’t matter. People would still think it’s true and they’d still ask us a million questions about it, judging us for what we’ve done.”
Matt meets my gaze as the last words fall from my mouth. “So ask her not to do it.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You think I haven’t done that?” I say. “But it’s kinda shitty given I’m the one who told her to write what she loves.”
The irony of that statement isn’t lost on me and as we once again sit in silence, my brain turning over all the things that stand in the way of me and Nora being together, a tiny part of me wonders if maybe it really won’t work out. If maybe it’s all too much, too soon and something we haven’t learnt how to deal with because we haven’t really learnt how to deal with anything as a couple.