The Last Phone Booth in Manhattan(85)

“He was offered the job and he accepted it. He’s asked me to go with him.”

Marisol slumped back against the cushion of the booth as if stunned with a sudden blow. “He did?” She sat quietly for a moment, her eyes working out the scenario in her head. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

I stared at Marisol, never having imagined we’d have this moment of reconciliation. If the phone booth had taken me to Marisol’s door instead of Gabe’s on Christmas Day, I would have slammed it closed and walked away. I wasn’t ready to face her then because I couldn’t see who I’d been, let alone who I had become. But now, everything was different. We were different. The past had somehow collided with the present, opening up a million possibilities for the future. This . . . this had been the point all along. Just as I had suspected, it had never been about Gabe at all.

“You know, I actually do think I know what I’m going to do,” I answered.

Her mouth curved into a smile. “Good.”

Charlie brought Oliver back to the table, the corners of his lips still smudged with sticky-sweet whipped cream. “He settled on a Chocolate Sundae in the Park with George. On the house.”

I mouthed a “thank-you” to him for the ice cream and for helping entertain Oliver while Marisol and I took a much-needed moment to catch up.

“You have a very polite young man here. He’s welcome to come and hang with me and raid the dessert case any time,” Charlie said, offering Oliver a high five. He responded by enthusiastically slapping his small hand up to meet Charlie’s.

“Thank you. I’m sure this will rank higher in his day than the show we just saw. Okay, bud, we better get going or we’ll miss our train. Put your jacket on, please,” Marisol instructed Oliver, sounding so mom-like. It was a surprising yet delightful shift from the girl I’d known back in college. As he wrestled himself into his coat, we stood from the table and Marisol reached out to pull me into one last hug, holding me tightly as I returned the embrace.

I pressed a soft kiss to her cheek as she withdrew. “I’ll call you. Maybe we can meet for dinner next week.”

“That’d be great.” She smiled and clasped Oliver’s hand in her own. “Hey, love you,” she called over her shoulder as she led him toward the exit and out the door.

“Love you too,” I called back after her, the silver chimes on the door tolling like bells as she left.





Chapter Forty-Two


A few hours later, I found myself back in Tribeca at Gabe’s apartment, my thoughts flashing back to Christmas Day. I remembered standing in this exact spot, mascara running down my cheeks, shivering under Adam’s Princeton hoodie, not knowing who would be on the other side of that door. Then, seeing Gabe’s face, I’d felt as if the nightmare I’d been living had maybe transformed into a wonderful dream.

I used to think that my life had two possibilities, two paths, Gabe or Adam. A or B. But over these last few months I’d come to understand I was wrong. There were other letters of the alphabet, other avenues, other outcomes, and I was the one who would get to choose.

I knocked lightly on Gabe’s door and moments later he opened it, a broad, welcoming smile on his face, and motioned for me to come inside. He took my coat, hung it on the back of a chair, and said, “I’ve been trying to call you, but your phone keeps going to voice mail. Have you been in the audition this whole time?”

I slung my bag off my shoulder and rested it by the door. “No, I finished up a few hours ago.”

His eyes went round. “A few hours ago? Where’ve you been all afternoon?”

“Actually, I met up with Marisol.”

His face contorted in shock. “Marisol? How? Why?”

Unsure of how to answer his questions, I remained quiet for a moment. He raised his brows as an indication that he was waiting, and instead, I said, “Did you know I was afraid of roller coasters?”

He seemed utterly confused by the change of topic. “Roller coasters? I don’t think so. I guess, we’ve never ridden one together, but I didn’t know you were afraid of them.”

“Can we sit down?” I asked.

He nodded and led me over to the couch.

I continued, “I am afraid of roller coasters. Terrified, actually. Marisol tried to get me to ride the Cyclone for years, but I’ve always chickened out at the last minute. Do you know where I went yesterday? Before my audition?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know? I assumed you were rehearsing somewhere. I was trying to give you your space like you asked.”

“I wasn’t rehearsing. I went to Coney Island, and I rode the Cyclone for the first time ever. And do you know what? It really wasn’t so bad. It was actually kind of great.”

He searched my eyes for meaning. “I’m sorry, but I’m not following you.”

“I can’t marry you, Gabe.” The words fell out in one breath before I could even consider their weight.

Gabe reeled back, his eyes scanning my face for more. “Wait, did you get the role?” he asked, trying to put the pieces together.

“No, I won’t hear anything for a few more weeks.”

“Then I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

I cast my eyes to the ground to avoid the hurt now flooding his expression. “I can’t marry you because we shouldn’t get married. I think deep down you know it too. We’re trying to make this thing fit because we want to believe that the universe has it all worked out for us. But that just isn’t true.”