Page 135 of Bad Words

“That’s me. It’s extremely fun to meet you.” Kellie’s laughing eyes strayed to me. “Selina’s been so secretive.”

We hung up our coats in the small tiled mudroom. “Really?” said Parker, his hand brushing the small of my back. “What did she tell you?”

“Your book came up at a staff meeting. You know, a month on the list … I thought it would be fun to poke Selina about it.” Kellie led us through an oak door that looked like it could have withstood a battering ram, into a long, narrow, crowded living room, whose mantelpiece boasted an enormous abstract painting and twin vases of lilies. “So I said, your favorite book’s been on the list for a month, what do you think. And Selina was like—what did she say?” Kellie stood up ramrod straight, wiping the impish smile off her face. “I’m very happy for Parker.”

Kellie gesticulated with her empty champagne flute and made an incredulous face at Parker. “And we were all, like—what? Since when did Parker Navarro become first-name-only Parker? What are you hiding from us? And she goes, like, solemn face, witness stand, ‘I haven’t been completely forthcoming.’”

Parker laughed, and looking at him, I broke into a smile, too. I had never considered myself a jealous or possessive person, but there was something satisfying about having him here beside me, about everyone in this room knowing that, somehow, I was the one he wanted.

I thought I heard my name, and I turned, looking for Jacob or Cassie, but my eyes moved toward the front of the room, onto what I’d thought at first glance was Scott’s dining table. But from this angle, I could see it was none other than the enormous claw-foot table from the City library. I moved slowly toward it. The pitted surface held a sea of champagne glasses.

“It’s our round table,” I told Parker.

“Well,” said Scott’s voice behind me, “we need somewhere to conduct those Friday eleven o’clocks.”

I turned to Scott, my hand passing over the hard, ridged wood glossed with age. The pang I’d felt looking around our barren office seemed to fade. “I’m glad you took it with you,” I said.

“The magazine is changing shape,” Scott said. “Just a little metamorphosis, Selina. Nothing we can’t handle. Now, this must be Parker.”

“Yes, sir.” Parker shook Scott’s hand. “I love your magazine. I’ve been reading City since I was thirteen.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Not planning to write revenge fantasies about any of our other staffers, are you?”

An embarrassed smile spread over Parker’s face. “Not unless I get requests.”

“There you are,” said a flushed-looking Cassie, darting around one of the data guys and tugging Jacob after her. Following them was a tall, shaggy-haired Chinese man, whom I recognized from Parker’s photos as his roommate, Arthur.

I felt abruptly stiff, sipping my champagne.

At first, in the days after Parker and I had reconciled, I hadn’t thought much of the fact that he would come over, night after night, to my apartment. He had a roommate; I didn’t.

But at the beginning of March, we’d had dinner in Greenpoint, and I’d suggested that we go home to his place afterward. He’d set down his fork and knife, deliberating, and said, “Look, Selina. Arthur is … He’s having a tough time getting past everything that happened.”

I hadn’t known what to say. I’d been coming to terms with the strange fact that many thousands of people, for the rest of my life, would react to my name with hatred or disgust, but for Parker’s best friend to feel that way was different.

“He’s been trying to talk you out of seeing me,” I said.

“Yeah.”

I’d never lost my appetite so quickly. What if it works, I thought. What if Arthur made such a compelling argument that Parker slowly came back to his senses and left me, this time forever.

“Hey.” Under the table, Parker’s fingertips grazed my knee. “It’s not happening, Selina, obviously. He’s going to love you, eventually. Just, right now, he thinks I’m…” He grimaced, running his hand through his hair. “You know. Caught up in the physical stuff, not thinking clearly.”

“Are you?”

He lowered his voice. “You didn’t seem to be thinking that clearly this morning, either.”

I touched his hand under the table. His fingers twined with mine, and, drawing circles on my palm, he’d said quietly, “A little more time, and he’ll see how clear I am on you. I promise.”

Now, as Arthur came into the circle, I tried to loosen my shoulders. I told myself, Be likable.

“Arthur,” Parker said, “this is Selina. Selina, my roommate Arthur.”

“Hello.” I moved my hand in an awkward wave. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yep. Hi.” Arthur was looking over my shoulder with a determined expression, as though he were about to take bitter medicine.

I thought about small talk. Asking him about Macmillan or how he liked the wine. But his hands had hooked into his pockets, and Jacob and Cassie were giving him curious looks, and I did not have time in my one life to talk around clear discomforts.