Day one in New York wasn’t quite like I’d imagined it would be. It was great and all, but none of the movies and television shows I’d ever seen—certainly not Friends, which I had assumed had taught me everything I needed to know about Manhattan life—were from the perspective of celebrities taking their layperson friends around town.
I’d been excited to go underground to ride the subway, just like Phoebe when David Arquette’s nice-guy stalker mistook her for her twin sister, Ursula. But I guess the subway has grown increasingly difficult for Brynn, who has collected a few crazed fans of her own. Don’t get me wrong, though. Malik was awesome, and it was nice to see him again.
And I know it was a fictional show (and thirty years ago, or whatever) but I was also really hoping to spot some sort of real-life version of Joey’s VD poster, just so I could joke about it with Brynn. But you didn’t really see a lot of VD posters when you were driven from VIP entrance to VIP entrance of MoMA and the Met in a Cadillac Escalade.
And obviously I didn’t expect to go to Central Perk and sit on the orange couch while Phoebe performed “Smelly Cat” and Gunther manned the bar, but I’d thought I was at least guaranteed some slam poetry in Greenwich Village or something. The odds were statistically in my favor that Brynn would need to replenish the coffee in her bloodstream at some point during the day.
But instead, we had tea. Tea. As in high tea. Tea and crumpets. As in Devonshire cream and preserves. And it was delicious. And beautiful, of course. And looking out at Central Park was probably my favorite part of the day, although even then I just wanted to get down there and be a part of it. Sitting there having tea, I felt like I had been flown directly to Buckingham Palace to watch a live cam of New York. It just wasn’t what I had in mind.
On top of all of that, Cole was still being weird.
“How were your scones?” I asked him as we wandered through Bergdorf Goodman after tea. We hadn’t been wandering together, for the record. I’d had to catch up with him and eventually tracked him down in a room that, bewilderingly enough, seemed to be devoted to men’s pocket squares.
“Delicious. But is it just me or are the ones Andi serves at the Bean just as good? Maybe even a little better?”
“Thank you! Yes!” I looked around to make sure Brynn and Seb weren’t around. “I’m so glad you said that. I mean, yeah . . . everything was good. But for the price?”
“Insane.” He shook his head. “I know they have money, but—”
“Why would anyone charge that much for a cup of tea? I swear it tasted the exact same as Celestial Seasonings, straight out of Colorado.”
“But those cucumber sandwich things were actually something special.”
I smirked. “Are you telling me you couldn’t make some just as good for about a buck fifty?”
“Oh, I could,” he acknowledged. “But I hadn’t thought of it, you see. So they deserved the money once.” He raised his arms and spun around slowly as he proclaimed, “Thank you, Birdjosh Groban, for the inspiration to cut off the crust of the bread. I honor you this day.”
I laughed just a little too loudly and had to apologize to an uppity-looking sales clerk who looked at me like I was an unruly child, which entertained Cole greatly. But when I leaned into him to share the laugh, his smile faded a bit and he took a step away, turning his attention to the pocket squares once again.
I knew exactly what was going on, of course, though I had no idea how to address it. How do you address the tension when the issue causing the tension is the one issue you’ve agreed not to discuss? It had been a great idea, the whole temporary hiatus of real life, but he clearly hadn’t stopped thinking about it any more than I had. It was almost like if he couldn’t talk to me about what he anticipated as the next steps of his future, and he couldn’t try to sell me on leaving Adelaide Springs, too, then there wasn’t anything to talk about.
“So, contemplating a pocket-square purchase, are you?”
“I have been meaning to up my pocket-square game for a while. Don’t act like this is news to you.”
I reached down and ran my fingers across a blue plaid one. “I like this one. And it totally doesn’t look like just a handkerchief at all.”
He turned and faced me. “Okay, seriously, are they not just handkerchiefs? I’ve really been staring at them, trying to figure out what differentiates them from handkerchiefs. I’m assuming you don’t blow your nose on these. I guess? Maybe because they’re silk and wouldn’t hold the snot very well. But couldn’t you just buy a handkerchief and decide not to blow your nose on it, and then you’d have a pocket square?”
“Wow.” I shook my head. “You really don’t get it at all, do you?”
“Hey, guys! There you are!” Brynn came hurrying up behind us, and I couldn’t help but notice snooty clerk didn’t clear her throat at her. “Did you find anything you want to buy, or are you ready to move on?”
“Move on to where?” I asked at the exact same time Cole said, “Apparently I’m not pocket-square people.”
His comment was missed by Brynn, but I bit my lip to keep from laughing as she responded to me. “I think we have just enough time to take in the Guggenheim before dinner.”
Another museum. Awesome.
“Oh. Okay. Sure. Um, yeah . . . I think I’m ready.”
“Hey, Brynn . . .” Cole leaned in and whispered as he moved closer to us both. “There are people over there taking your picture.”
She didn’t even look over her shoulder. “Yeah, sorry about that. Probably another reason to move on.” She looked over at snooty clerk. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”
“You too, Ms. Cornell. Thank you for visiting. If you or your friends need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”
Cole and I looked at each other, wide eyed, and then walked out on either side of Brynn. As we made our way down the escalator, the two people with their phones out became about six or seven people with their phones out, and one or two guys with professional-looking cameras that I guessed were paparazzi or something. She smiled and waved at some of the people with phones and completely ignored the guys with cameras. They didn’t push it too much, but that didn’t stop Cole from stepping off the escalator in front of both of us and then putting his body between us and the photographers all the way to the exit, where Sebastian was waiting to lead us to Malik.
We climbed into the Escalade just outside the VIP entrance of Bergdorf Goodman and took off immediately, but came to a screeching halt when I yelled out, “Stop the car!” Well, we hadn’t even gotten away from the curb yet, so maybe it wasn’t quite a screech. But the intensity of it all in my mind merited a screech. We’d forgotten Cole.
I turned around in my third-row seat, where I sat alone, to look through the rear window, but he wasn’t standing out there waving us down or running after us. “Where’s Cole?” I asked as I turned back to face them all in a panic. “We need to go back.”
An entire lifetime I’d managed to keep track of him, but all it had taken was one lousy day in New York to turn me into Kevin McCallister’s parents, carefully keeping track of every detail of my life except whether or not my entire family made it onto the plane.
“I’m right here, Lai,” he said from the front passenger seat.
I jumped at the sound of his voice and met his eyes as he tilted his head and waved. I felt my pulse begin to steady and my heart slide out of my throat and back into my chest where it belonged. “Oh. Good. Sorry. Sorry, Malik. Sorry, you guys.” I sank back into the seat and exhaled out the last of the frantic breaths. “My bad.”
“Sorry it was so chaotic getting out of there.” Brynn reached behind her and squeezed my knee before facing front again with a sigh as we pulled onto Fifth Avenue. As an aside to get Sebastian caught up, she said, “Just some photographers.”
She kept talking—something about how she was used to it, but she sometimes forgot what a shock it could be to others who weren’t—but first things first: Why was Cole sitting in the front with Malik instead of in the back with me?
Cole smiled at me in a way I think was supposed to be reassuring before he turned back to face front again, but I didn’t feel reassured. Reassured that the paparazzi hadn’t kidnapped him to hold him for ransom until Brynn agreed to pose for pictures for TMZ or something? Well, sure. That was a relief, I suppose.
Don’t go all crazy. It’s probably nothing. It was just the easiest way to get in. The fastest, certainly.
Yeah, I could positively reinforce myself Stuart Smalley–style to my heart’s content, acting confident that I was good enough and that I was smart enough and that Cole really did like me, but he was definitely avoiding me. It wasn’t like we’d never sat separately from each other in a vehicle. We weren’t that codependent. But this on top of wandering away from me at the mall. (Yeah, yeah . . . I know Brynn said it was just one store, but you can’t convince me that place wasn’t a mall. All that was missing was a Radio Shack and a Wet Seal. And yes, before you ask, it’s possible I hadn’t been to a mall since 2003.) And at tea he’d talked to Sebastian the entire time. And I don’t think he’d talked to any of us at breakfast that morning. Which, yes, could have meant it didn’t have anything to do with me.
But I knew it did. I could feel it.
I watched the buildings and the yellow taxicabs outside my window in a stupor until Brynn’s phone rang. Actually rang. She checked it all the time, and there were always little vibration sounds happening, and she would look at it and then ignore it or fire off a text. But this was an actual ring, turned up on high volume, and everyone stopped talking in response.
“Hey, Colton,” she said and then put her hand over the bottom of her phone and whispered, “Sorry!” before turning to face out the window.
“Executive producer of Sunup,” Sebastian explained to us softly. “Not technically Brynn’s boss anymore on Sunup3, but he’s sort of the big boss. Usually only calls if he needs something.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“Tonight?!” Brynn flipped her head around to meet Seb’s eyes. “No, I can’t. We have friends in town . . . Well, yeah, but not like that . . . They’re staying with us, Colton. They’re our guests. I can’t just . . .” She sighed. “Yeah. No, of course. Alright. Okay, yeah, let me talk to Sebastian and let you know. Thanks. Talk to you in a bit.” She clicked the End button on her phone and then let out a soft but aggravated groan. “Well, that sucks.”
“What’s up?” Seb asked as he reached over and ran a strand of her brunette locks through his fingers. “What does he need you to cover?”
Brynn closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oktoberfest. Irvine has the flu or something. Crap!” She glanced at Cole in the front seat and then turned around and faced me. “I’m so sorry. I have to go over there and step in. I won’t be back until Saturday.” She started talking to Sebastian in a softer, more intimate tone. “You can come, of course, but I don’t know what to do about—”
“You guys would be okay, wouldn’t you?” He looked from Cole to me and then back again. “You can make yourself at home at our place. And Malik, do you think you could be available to—”
“Of course,” Malik responded. “Happy to help.”
Sebastian shrugged. “There you go. And then we’ll be back on Saturday and still have until Wednesday all together. Sound okay?” He looked at Cole. “You’ve got things under control . . . right?”
Cole’s eyes met mine, just for a second, and then he said, “Of course. Everything will be fine.”
“Okay. Thanks. I really am so sorry.” Brynn sighed again. “I guess we’d better get home and pack.”
Ah. Oktoberfest. As in the real, official, original Oktoberfest. In Germany. Not in Washington Square Park or Jersey City or somewhere in Pennsylvania. Gears were clicking into place slowly, but at least they were finally clicking. And as much as I believed Seb really did like us and enjoyed spending time with Cole and me, of course he didn’t want to spend a week away from his new wife if he didn’t have to. It all made sense and probably would have made sense sooner if I hadn’t been so busy watching Cole, trying to figure out what he wasn’t saying between the very few words that he did say. Why had Seb asked him if he had things under control? And more important, why had Cole looked at me like I was the unknown variable in that equation?
“But there’s no reason this has to get in the way of your day,” Brynn said with a little too much forced enthusiasm as she attempted to rally everyone’s spirits. Mostly her own, I figured. “I’ll call and make the reservation for two at Bar SixtyFive. And if you still want to go to the Guggenheim, I can call and ask for a curator to show you—”
“Thank you, but don’t worry about us.” Was I a horrible friend? Was it absolutely awful of me that I mostly just felt relief ? Not that I wanted to get rid of Brynn and Seb, but I desperately wanted to get rid of Fodor’s Guide to New York for the Social Elite. “In fact, can we reschedule the Rockefeller Plaza Rainbow Room thing? I’d love to experience that with you guys—”
“Yes!” Cole agreed emphatically and then reined his enthusiasm in a bit. Was it possible he was feeling the same strain of the day that I was? This might have been the best thing that could have happened. “I mean, yeah, from what you said, and a little bit of looking I did on my phone, it sounds . . . almost . . .” He looked to Sebastian. For assistance? “Romantic, maybe? I know you guys have been there before, but I think it would maybe be better for the four of us to—”
“I’ve got it!” Brynn squealed and clapped her hands. “Let’s go on Saturday night and reserve private dining for Laila’s birthday at the actual Rainbow Room! Yes! Unless there’s a wedding or something, there’s live music and dancing and stuff on Saturdays—and you really are likely to see a celebrity on a Saturday night at the Rainbow Room.”
I loved that she kept in mind how exciting it might be for us to see a celebrity while simultaneously forgetting that we were in the car with two of them.
“I thought for my birthday you wanted to go to the place with the hundred percent guaranteed Queen Bey sightings,” I reminded her.
“No, this will be better. We can really do it up right.” She was tapping away on her phone. “We’ll need to get all dressed up.” She glanced back at me. “Feel free to go through my closet. Or I should be back in time so we could go shopping, if you want.” And then back to her phone. “It will be almost like . . . I don’t know . . . double dates or something. Won’t that be fun?”
“Or . . .” Sebastian dragged out those two little letters an awfully long time. “Maybe we should set them both up and make it a triple date.”
Cole turned away from us all and faced front again before shaking his head and burying it in his hand.
Brynn stopped messing around with her phone at once and looked up at her husband like he’d grown another head. “What are you talking about? Triple date? With whom?”
Seb shrugged. “I don’t know. We know lots of nice people. I just thought maybe it would be fun for them to meet some new friends and—”
“Yeah. Let’s do that,” Cole muttered. He was still stoically facing forward, and I could barely understand him from way in the back as he said, “That’s a good idea.”
What was happening?
And what made any of them think I wanted to spend my birthday dinner at some romantic NYC restaurant—where we might see more celebrities, none of whom were likely to be Beyonce and Jay-Z—with jet-lagged newlyweds just in from the largest beer festival in the world, my best friend who seemed more upset with me by the moment, though I had no idea why, and some rando blind dates from who knows where, just to make it all more uncomfortable?
“That seems a little unnecessa—”
“Ooh! You know who you’d really like?” Brynn asked in a flood of excitement. “Milo Ventimiglia.”
“Hang on . . . Jess? You want to fix me up with Jess from Gilmore Girls?”
“I didn’t know we were considering Gilmore Girls dates here,” Cole said, turning around and no longer muttering. “Isn’t that . . . I don’t know . . . indulgent?”
“He’s a great guy. He’s in California most of the time, but I think he’s here another few months filming. He comes on Sunup3 whenever he’s in town. He’s one of my favorite guests. And he’s single. A few years older than us, but not much.” She looked at Sebastian. “Probably just a couple years older than you, right?” She didn’t wait for a response before turning back to me again. “What do you say? Want to see if your favorite of all Rory Gilmore boyfriends is available for dinner on Saturday evening?”
I didn’t understand how this thing she was asking me was an actual possibility, but even more than that, I didn’t understand how or why anyone with even an ounce of sanity left in them would or could say no.
“Yes, Brynn,” I replied as calmly as I could, since apparently this was no big thing to my famous friend. “If you would be ever so kind, I would very much appreciate you fixing me up with Milo Ventimiglia.”
I may have spent most of my life blissfully (and, admittedly, sometimes less blissfully) unaware of the trends and practices of less rural, less isolated areas of the world, but by golly, we had the WB. And for those first few seasons, Brynn, Addie, and I had hidden ourselves away in the attic of my grandparents’ house—the Clubhouse, we had called it since we were kids—and obsessed over every move Lorelai and Rory made. Obsessed over the banter. Obsessed over the music. Obsessed over the pop-culture references. And, oh yes, we obsessed over Rory’s boyfriends.
Once it was just me left in the Clubhouse, Cole watched with me occasionally, but I didn’t have the option then of saying, “You have to go watch the early seasons and get caught up,” so he asked a lot of questions—Does everyone have a child they didn’t know about? Is that just a requisite of living in Stars Hollow?—and never really got into it. And I couldn’t blame him. Gilmore Girls said goodbye to its magic when it lost Amy Sherman-Palladino and moved to the CW, just like the magic of watching it was never the same once Brynn and Addie left. I watched the finale all by myself, sitting in the Clubhouse under a blanket crying, sad to be saying goodbye to more friends.
But now I was going on a date with Jess.
“Who do I get?” Cole had turned completely around in his seat as our surroundings became familiar and we pulled onto North Moore Street in Tribeca.
“Don’t you think he and Greta would be fun?” Brynn asked Sebastian.
Seb laughed as the Escalade came to a stop. “I think Greta would eat him alive.”
She winked. “And you don’t think that could be fun?”
“Who’s Greta?” Cole and I asked in unison, and when our eyes met, I smiled. He didn’t.
“She does hair and makeup on Sunup. She’s the cutest. Seriously. I think you’d really—”
“I want Zoe Saldana.” Cole had blurted it out like he was stepping up to the counter at Burger King and ordering a Whopper without pickles, having already been promised he could have it his way. “Laila gets Jess Gilmore. I think I should get someone famous too.”
Brynn’s eyes grew wide as she looked from Cole to me and back a couple times, as if we were in the middle of a heated debate, but I hadn’t said a word. I was just studying him. The way he once again wouldn’t look at me. The way his brow was furrowing like he was angry, but he was biting his lips like he was nervous. And then there was Seb, leaning in and whispering something to him that seemed not to surprise him but caused the furrows to increase. Caused the teeth to bite harder.
“Well, I’m pretty sure Zoe is married with kids, but I guess I can reach out and see what sort of policy she and her husband have, if you want me to.” Brynn smiled, trying to break the tension, and then looked at me and shrugged when the joke had no impact at all. “Alrighty, then. Um . . . Seb and I can brainstorm on the plane. I’m sure there are lots of celebrities who would love to go out with you.”
“Good,” he muttered. “Thanks.” And then he turned back around and climbed out of the vehicle.
“What is that about?” Brynn whispered to me as she grabbed her purse from the floorboard.
I wish I knew. “You know Cole and his Zoe obsession. It’s not a laughing matter.” I chuckled lightly, hoping that would be enough for her.
It sure as snot wasn’t going to be enough for me.