Page 46 of Rivals to Lovers
“Not on my side.”
Wes, very conscientiously, did not raise his eyebrows. “And was that what did it? I mean, finally, was that what ended it?”
She sighed, then took a sip of her unsweetened iced tea. She had this way of using her straw, trying to bypass her whitened teeth to avoid all stains. “I could have made it work, but honestly, I think we had run our course. Don’t think badly of your father. Truly, sometimes these things have expiration dates.”
He thought about the rights forProud and the Lost, how the expiration of the authorial rights had been extended andextended and how much work it had taken on Estelle’s part to do so. That wasn’t even marriage, where the other party could fight with you, ignore you, or cheat on you. Making anything last long meant fighting against the natural will of time to change things, and Wes didn’t like it. “I never pictured you two apart.”
“Well, you weren’t around as much from age ten on, darling, so let’s be honest. How much were you really watching?”
“Fair enough,” Wes said. His casserole was too cold to enjoy. He put down his fork. “My book might become a published book. The one that adaptsProud and the Lost.”
His mother smiled at him, then raised her glass to clink against his. “This year will be full of surprises, Wes. Not all of them bad.”
He thought about Mo’s fingers stretched on the couch next to him, the press of her lips against his. How he’d had to stop midchapter, unable to talk about a couple kissing without kissing her himself. He thought about the little heart in the text message and cleared his throat. “True,” he said. “Too true.”
Ulla looked out the window, and despite her careful presentation, he knew she was sad and lonely. He recognized the expression because he had worn it himself. He remembered Ajay’s offer and realized that a night out might help her feel better. “Do you want to see Ajay’s gallery opening with me in Tribeca tonight?”
She focused again on his face and smiled as if she could tell what he was doing. “How weird is it?”
On the way to the gallery, Wes considered the likelihood of his manuscript becoming a real book. He daydreamed as hewent past the bookstores he’d browsed as a kid. He’d attended dozens of author events at the Strand and imagined his name in the marquee above its entrance. Wes Spencer,Too Proud. The name would probably change in edits, if they got to edits. It sounded like a Fast & Furious movie now that he thought about it. The sequel to Morgan’s original novel:Too Proud, Too Lost.Proudest and Lostest,Part III. Those were the kinds of spin-offs that strong literary estates like Morgan’s had been meant to avoid. Was his strong enough?
He felt a pang of guilt, thinking about his future before thinking about the woman who was the estate right now. He had a little time before he was supposed to meet Maureen and Ulla, so Wes ducked into a bodega and grabbed a coffee to counter the cold evening air. Cup in hand, he stepped out and called Gary.
“How’s Estelle doing?” Wes asked after the hellos had been exchanged.
“Better.” Gary sounded exhausted. “We think she’s better. We’ll be heading home tomorrow.”
“Thank God for that,” Wes said.
“I’ve been reading her your projects, little by little,” he said.
“I thought you hatedThe Proud and The Lost,” Wes said, his voice full of fake chiding. “You know, Maureen and I have been reading the projects to each other too.”
Gary made a noise on the other end of the phone.
“What? What does that mean?”
“Someone is going to get hurt in all of this, Wes. Are you sure you’re maintaining your professional distance in this situation?”
Wes actually laughed. He wasn’t, but how could he? “I don’t represent the estate anymore.”
“But you’re still an agent. You know the power you have, and you’re not a disinterested party here.”
Could he tell Gary that he was going out with Mo tonight on … well, it wasn’t a date. His mom was coming and he’d told Mo she could bring a friend. But he wasoutwith her. Plus all the other activities they’d been taking part in that had required definitely not being out in public. They weren’t exactly fuck buddies. Was fuck rivals a thing? He wasn’t going to defend himself to Gary, though, especially not after what he’d seen at the estate. “Come on, Gary. Talk about professional distance. How long have you and Estelle been lovers?”
“You don’t know anything about Estelle and me,” Gary huffed, sounding genuinely hurt.
Wes felt bad, conscious that the purely professional relationship he and Gary had shared five minutes ago had stretched into something uneven and strained. You couldn’t really know a person until you saw them under real stress. This was stress, and Wes was being a defensive jerk in the face of it. Wes sighed. The right thing to say was definitelyI’m an asshole, but he thought of a way to reframe it. “I’m sorry. Let her know I’m thinking of her.”
“Thinking of what she can do for you?” Gary shot back. After a second, he added, “Thank you. We’re all under a lot of stress right now.”
Wes patched things up the best he could before hanging up, then tucked his phone back into his pocket. What had he expected: a blessing? Some kind of revelation? Estelle on the mend or not, the edge in Gary’s voice made Wes think that hearts couldn’t be cured as quickly as all that. He wasn’t goingto “just circle back” his way out of this situation like he usually could. He needed to take a deep breath, take a step back, and enjoy the fact that nothing was finalized yet. Not having one of their books selected meant more time in this delicious limbo. In grad school, a term they’d talked about a zillion times wasliminality, the space between spaces. Not a bridge exactly, but a tension between two concepts. The space between him and Mo didn’t feel liminal, it felt electric. He thought about that old Oscar Wilde line, “The suspense is terrible; I hope it will last.”
That particular aphorism was fresh in his mind when he looked up to see Maureen coming down the street in the dress she had bought in Greenwich. The dress she had peeled off in the hot tub.
He didn’t know if he mouthed “oh shit” or said it, but the sight of her sent blood rushing to his cheeks and other parts of his body. He had to stifle his reaction, though, because Ulla was walking in step with Mo. They must have run into each other up the block, and they were talking animatedly. As he got closer, he swore he heard the phrase “extensive, body-wide acne” pass his mother’s lips and noticed Mo’s glance trace him in an appraising way.
Why had he thought that this second Ulla/Mo crossover event was a good idea, when it was likely his worst idea ever?
