“Well,” said Ava as she reached over and snagged a chip from Bridget’s bag, “this is so not what I thought was going to happen.”
“What do you mean?” yelped Bridget. “This is all your fault! You made this happen! You freaking threw us together!”
The friends were lunching together on the High Line, enjoying the early summer sunshine and pulled pork sandwiches from the Chelsea Market while they watched Dylan run up and down the path.
Ava widened her eyes. “Yeah, but I just thought you guys would have dinner, and Jay would offer you a job. End of story.” She leaned back against the bench and stretched her long legs out in front of her. “I mean, I guess I should have figured that you’d end up sleeping together, but then either you’d get all squirrely and controlling like you always do and push him away for no reason, or he’d start moping about his ex-wife again and get all gross and weepy. I certainly didn’t think you were going to end up having soul mate sex and then squaring off over a billion dollars.”
“It wasn’t soul mate sex. And I do not get squirrely and controlling.”
“Uh, when you say it was the best sex of your life, that certainly sounds like soul mate stuff. And you do so get squirrely. You can’t even order a meal without being totally, ridiculously controlling about it. Don’t even try to deny it.”
“Dylan!” Bridget called at the rapidly retreating back of her son. “Not so far, honey, okay? Stay where I can see you!” Ava reached for another chip and Bridget pushed the bag toward her. “Here, just take it. Don’t you get paid enough to buy your own chips?”
Ava raised an eyebrow as she took the chips. “Case in point.”
Bridget glared at her. “You’re not helping.”
Ava laughed. “I don’t know what you want me to say here. Congratulations on the amazing not-soul-mate sex? I hope you become a billionaire? Lean in, sister, you can have it all? What?”
“I want you to say that I’m not crazy! I want you to tell me that I’m not putting this job in jeopardy by seeing this guy! I want you to tell me to cut it the hell out!”
“Oh, you’re definitely crazy. But that’s nothing new.” She popped a chip into her mouth. “But I don’t know, I mean, why end something so good before it even really begins? Don’t you want to see how it turns out?”
“Because I hardly know the guy. Why not just cut my losses now?”
Ava shook her head. “This is why you haven’t stuck it out with anyone since Kevin.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You find something wrong with everyone. Remember Chris Helborg?”
“Jesus, Ava, this is a little bigger than chewing with your mouth open.”
“Exactly. That was literally the only thing wrong with Chris—he had bad table manners. Other than that? Hot, rich, funny, he was crazy about you...”
“I once watched him eat an entire salad with his hands.”
Dylan came running back. “Can I have a popsicle, please, Mommy?”
“Of course you can, honey,” interjected Ava. She loved to spoil her friend’s kid.
Bridget snorted in protest as Ava reached for her purse and started to stand, but Dylan shook his head. “I can do it. Just give me the money. It’s two dollars and seventy-five cents. I asked.”
Ava raised her eyebrows. “So independent.” She handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Bring one for me and your mommy, too, and tell him to keep the change.”
“He doesn’t need more sugar right now,” muttered Bridget as Dylan ran toward the ice-cream stand. “He had a cookie with his lunch.”
Ava put her finger in the air and turned back to Bridget. “Please hold for a moment. I want to back up to the part where you told Harrington his architect’s renderings were boring and he threw you out of his office, but then for some mysterious reason, he agreed with you, after all—do you think that means he needs a new architect?”
Bridget laughed in disbelief. “What happened to Harrington being an asshole? Now you want to work with him, too?”
Ava shrugged. “Well, I can’t spend the rest of my life designing Scarlett’s rumpus rooms.”
“Well, actually, you probably could...”
Ava waved her hands. “Look at this beautiful, beautiful park we’re in. It’s original, it’s useful, it’s iconic. It changed New York City permanently and for the better. And it was created in our lifetime. And look over there.” She pointed to the way the Empire State Building rose up out of the skyline, seemingly cradled at its base by the twisting spires of the General Theological Seminary. “Look how timeless those buildings are. They’re art. They’re poetry, Bridget. That’s what I want. I want to design something even a fraction as amazing as those. I want to change the landscape. Make something so important that it will be here making people’s lives better for years after I’m gone. And I don’t want to do it anonymously. I’m sick of men claiming my work for their own. I’m in it for the glory. I want my name on the buildings. Architect, Ava Martinez—in big, bold gold letters.”
Bridget took a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly, taking in the view of the historic buildings, the wildflowers dipping in the breeze around them, the sense of being tucked up away from the busy streets. People were lolling on the benches or walking dreamily hand in hand down the never-ending bridge. “Next time, we’re gonna sit where we can look at the IAC Building,” she said, referring to the famously modern Frank Gehry–designed office.
Ava snorted derisively. “Gehry. He watched too many monster movies. His stuff looks like the Blob Who Ate Manhattan.”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “The Empire State is the past. This park, the IAC, that’s the future.”
Ava widened her eyes. “And that’s why I want to work for someone like Harrington. I want a chance to design a building that will stand up to the test of time.”
Bridget shook her head. “Okay, can we be done talking about your need to be immortal and get back to my problem, please? Before Dylan gets back?” She could see him struggling to decide on a flavor a few yards away. “I just need to know if I’m making a huge freaking mistake here, A.”
Ava took a sip of water. “Look, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing this, but it actually kind of disappointed me when I heard Jason say that I reminded him of his ex. He’s hot, he’s smart, he’s funny, he’s mega-rich. And if you managed to have crazy, mind-blowing, totally awesome sex with him? What is there to discuss? Go elope with him for goodness’ sake. Or at least go on a second date.”
“But the job—”
Ava held up her hand. “You’re going to get it, Bridget.”
“But what if—”
“I have never known you to go after something you really wanted and not eventually get it. You are absolutely terrifying that way. And when you get it, because Jay is a decent guy and already worth like twenty bajillion dollars, he will be happy for you. And then you can get married and have tiny miniature super-rich contractor babies together.”
“So you think this all can actually work?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
Bridget sighed. “No. I’ve got to end it.”
“So glad you asked my advice.”
Bridget reached over and grabbed the chips. “Give those back to me.”