Meet Me in Manhattan (True Vows) Read Free Page A

we've been together a while, so ..."
    "You're a great catch," Erika said, meaning it. "She's a lucky
woman.
    He flashed her another bright smile. "Thanks."
    "Girls always loved you. You were so adorable."
    "Oh, yeah." He laughed. "That's me. Adorable." His smile
faded and he took several long swallows of beer, draining his
glass. "This has been great, Fred, but I'm afraid I've got to hit the
road."
    That he'd called her "Fred"-his old nickname for her, a play
on her last name-touched her. That he so abruptly announced
that he had to leave touched her in a different, colder way. She
would have been happy to sit talking with him some more. Not
about the lucky woman who'd snared him, but about other
things. About how he'd spent the last sixteen years of his life.
About whether he valued the same things now that he did then,
whether he still listened to Phish and Fleetwood Mac, whether he
still thought donkeys were cuter than horses.
    Her glass was nearly half full, but this encounter was over. It
was good-bye time. A few long swallows drained the last of the
beer from the glass. "This has been great," she said as she lowered
her glass. "Thanks so much for the drink."
    "My pleasure."
    "I'm glad you got in touch." Shut up, Erika. It's good-bye time.

    "I'm glad I did, too." He caught the bartender's eye, and he
hustled over and asked if they wanted to order another round.
Ted declined, placed a few bills on the bar next to his empty glass,
and stood. "Maybe we can do this again sometime," he said.
    "That would be nice." Erika wondered if he would have stayed
longer if they hadn't ventured onto the subject of seeing other
people. She wondered if his sudden desire to leave had to do with
his current lover. She wondered why she was wondering. She
wondered why she even cared. She wondered if old friends no
longer described what they were to each other. Former friends
might be more accurate. Former more-than friends.
    "I'm glad you were free," he added once he'd escorted her
through the crowd and out onto Prince Street. "Both of us working in Manhattan now ... how could we not get together?"
    "Absolutely." The rain was coming down a little harder now,
cool drops dancing across her cheeks and settling into her hair.
    "It was good seeing you."
    "You, too," she said, convinced at that moment that she meant
it. It was good seeing how he'd turned out. That long-ago summer they'd been together, he'd seemed so aimless, so unmotivated. No plans for college. No career goals. He'd wanted only
one thing in life back then: her.
    And he couldn't have her. As rhapsodic as their relationship
had been, she couldn't stand to be the one single goal in an eighteen-year-old boy's life. She'd wanted so many other things: a college degree, travel, adventures, experience. To have given up all
her dreams and ambitions because Ted loved her and wanted her
to be his wife would have killed her.
    Killed them both, probably. Or, like so many ill-prepared
teenagers who'd married too young, they might well have wound
up wanting to kill each other.

    Prince Street was even more crowded than when she'd arrived
at Fanelli's. Despite the summer rain, people filled the sidewalks,
strolling, pub-crawling, flirting, on their way to a restaurant or an
off-off Broadway performance or a gallery opening. Or they were
just hanging out, gossiping, grabbing a smoke, gazing at one
another with invitations in their eyes.
    Erika was on her way nowhere and extending no invitations.
She just wanted to leave, get away, go home. She felt a headache
taking shape behind her eyes, blossoming in her temples.
    "So," Ted said.
    "Thanks again for the drink," she said. "And for getting in
touch. This was lovely." She'd never been a good liar, and she
worried that he'd be able to see right through her words to the
truth, which was that it hadn't been lovely at all.
    If he guessed she was lying, he didn't call her on it. He appeared
pensive, lost in his