“I can’t tell you what to do,” he says and heads for the door. “See you Saturday.”
My hands rest on the keyboard. I won’t allow myself to read into that last part. Just like I’ve been working to remind myself every day, Simon is trouble. Meeting and getting into good favor with his father is an incredible stroke of luck.
Despite how often Simon makes me feel as if I’m lacking, the other Mulroney made me feel like anything but. It was the same way with Mr. Murakami, who valued my ideas.
The barbecue might be full of other people in film. Maybe Mr. Murakami and his wife will be there, or someone else I respect in the industry. I would be a fool not to seize any opportunity for networking and rubbing elbows.
And so it’s settled. Simon Mulroney has yet to — and never will — help determine the course of my life.
*
Brendan calls me on my way home from work. I glance at the phone and then drop it back into the seat, uncertain about whether or not I’m ready to talk to him.
He texted me after Friday night’s debacle, saying he was sorry if he “did something wrong.” His unwillingness to directly own up to his attitude irked me, and I never texted him back.
It’s not like I’m never going to talk to him again. It’s already become pretty apparent that I won’t be able to shake him from my life just like that. I just need a little space first. A lot of shit went down all at once, and right now, I’m being forced to deal with navigating the waters of Simon’s presence. I need a little breathing space before I can get around to figuring out my relationship with Brendan.
It turns out it doesn’t matter whether I call him back or ignore him because he’s sitting on my front steps. He catches sight of me as I come into the courtyard. I slow my walk and creep towards him, annoyed that he just showed up at my building — basically cornering me.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hey.”
I stop at the bottom step, looking up at where he sits about a third of the way towards the second floor. Past him, the edge of my front door peeks from around the outer hallway corner.
So close and yet so far.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He looks slightly offended. “You didn’t text me back.”
I run my tongue over the bottom edge of my teeth, giving some thought to my response. I figure it’s best to be honest. I don’t really have much left to lose in our relationship.
“I just wasn’t ready to talk yet. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to blow up on you.”
“You’re mad at me.”
I grab onto the bottom of the banister and swing slightly on it. “Yeah. I am.”
He softly claps his hands together, as if to signify my answer settles something. “Can I ask why?”
“Maybe it was just me…” I pause. “No, it wasn’t just me. I’m pretty sure you were acting possessive of me. You were making it seem like I’m still your girlfriend.”
He scratches his neck and looks down. “Yeah, I was. I’m sorry.”
His confession is surprising. I cautiously study him. “You’re not going to deny it?”
“No,” he sighs. “I’m not.”
“Why were you doing it?”
He looks up at me. “Isn’t it obvious? Because being around you again makes me miss the way things used to be. Don’t you feel the same way, at least a little bit?”
I smile softly at him. “Yeah, I have gotten a little nostalgic.” I think about just how attracted I was to him when he showed up out of the blue in L.A. I almost considered giving things with him another go.
“It can’t work out between us again,” I say, making sure I meet his eyes as I say it.
“Why?”
I take in a deep breath and let it out slow. “Because I live here, and you live there. That’s the main reason. Long distance didn’t work for us.”
“Is there another reason?”
He stares intently at me and my gaze whips to the bottom step.
Brendan speaks again. “Everyone can tell something’s going on between you and your boss. The way he looks at you…” He laughs ruefully. “Damn, the way he looks at me — like he’s going to tear my throat out if I touch you. I mean, he’s handsome, sure, but the guy’s a cocky bastard. Since when do you like that?”
Irritation scratches across my skin. “He’s not a bastard.”
Well, maybe he is, but that’s not Brendan’s call to make.
Brendan sighs. “Whatever you say.”
“I’m not seeing anyone.” I look straight at him.
He studies my eyes. “So you’re just fucking him?”