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You know they have hormone therapies you can try.
JOSH
We need to talk, Devy.
Devin
One Year Later – New York City, NY
Every step I take up the stairs in my new life is like taking a step through a portal to a world of new possibilities. It’s been one year, to the day, since the night that not only rocked my world but changed my life irrevocably. I never would have had the courage to step out of the little bubble I called a life in New Jersey if it hadn’t been for the three men who showed me everything I was missing and taught me that if I wanted something, I needed to push myself past the self-doubt and fear and just take it.
So, here I am now, standing on the steps of the one of the largest libraries in the United States, in New York City. The New Public Library, housed in the garment district of Manhattan.
“Good morning, Ms. Black,” Henry, the library’s morning guard, calls as I walk through the front doors.
“Good morning, Henry. How’s Mrs. Henry feeling?”
“Better every day, thank you for asking,” he calls as I make my way through the foyer into the main library. My gaze quickly skims the shelves lining both walls, filled completely with books. And lining the walk, cutting down the center of the room, are rows of tables as far as the eye can see. I do a quick headcount, giving me an idea of how the day is going to go based on how busy we are from the start.
“I’m so glad to hear that,” I say, offering him a smile and continue to the information desk to stow my belongings.
When Nyx had told me about the open librarian position she found at the New York Public Library, a thrill of excitement had shot through me, quickly dowsed by fear and dread when she proceeded to tell me she had submitted my resume for the position. But as I answered my phone two days later to a call with a New York City area code, I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard the voice on the other end asking me if I’d be open to doing a video interview that afternoon. And when they called me a week later, asking me to drive up for the day—all expenses paid—for a second interview, I jumped at the opportunity. I had nearly lost hope with another week passed by with no word, but on day nine I came work from to a voicemail on my answer machine from the director of the library.
Good afternoon Miss Black, I’m calling from the New York Public Library. I’m calling because I’d like to offer you the open librarian position. Please return my call at your earliest convenience so we may discuss the details of your transition and see what we may be able to do to help with your move.
I returned their call before the message finished playing and now here I am, living my dream at one of the most magical places on earth. A smile spreads across my face, and I spin in a slow circle, taking in the shelves upon shelves of books, people of walks of life, and breathing deep the scent of ink printed on paper.
“Why do you still do that every day?” Josh—my co-worker and now ex-boyfriend, but still friend—asks.
I spin around and slap my hands over my cheeks in an attempt to hide the rising heat of embarrassment at being caught—again—by Josh. “Do what?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Every day, you come in here, and you take in the place like it’s your first time stepping through those doors,” he says, placing the small pile of books he’s holding down on the counter.
Shrugging a shoulder, I take a moment to mull over his question. “I don’t know. I guess it just still hasn’t sunk in that this is all real. Me … a small-town girl from New Jersey, is really here—in New York City—and working at one of the largest libraries in the United States. It all still feels like a dream to me, and I’m just wondering when I’ll wake up to a feeling of disappointment.”
Josh comes around the desk and grips my shoulders in his large hands. That blue gaze that once drew me in and held me hostage now locks with mine, sincerity and tenderness radiating from their depths. “You’re not dreaming, and you’re not going to wake up to the disappointment that you’re still in back in nowhere, New Jersey. You really are living in the city that never sleeps and is always so damn noisy. And you are working at one of the largest libraries in the US. So, take it all in and soak it up. This is reality, baby.”
He gives my shoulders a squeeze and a little shake before letting me go.
“Remind me again why I broke up with you?” I ask jokingly.
Josh shakes his head, a flash of a grin ticking up one corner of his mouth. “You didn’t. I broke up with you because you were just too damn much for me to keep up with.” He walks backwards leisurely, a mournful look on his face. His left hand comes up to slap against his chest, over his heart, followed by the right. “I’m hurt you don’t remember the immense amount of pain it caused me to watch you walk away.” The smile that slowly splits his face tells me he’s joking, so I just roll my eyes and shake my head at his antics.
“You’re such a dork,” I say as I pick up a piece of paper and fist it into a ball before chucking it in his direction. Of course, it falls short, landing harmlessly on the floor at his feet. He laughs that contagious laugh of his, the one that sucked me in all those months ago.
“That’s why you love me,” he singsongs, waving his hand in a goodbye gesture over his head as he walks back to his office.
He’s not wrong. Josh was the first person to welcome me to the city after I moved here. His open-mindedness and warm personality put a crack in my defenses, one so deep he was the first man I even considered dating since Kyle. Granted, our relationship ended after only a month, but at least he hadn’t made me feel like a freak in the process, joking and laughing about how he wasn’t man enough to keep up with me. In the end, we remained friends, which, if I’m being honest, is what I really need right now.
Picking up the small stacks of books Josh left for me, his latest recommendation for me to read, I flip through them, pausing on a dark cover with an image of a neon sign that reads, One Night. I turn the book over and skim the synopsis.
One night spent locked in a sex club. Living out your deepest desires and hidden fantasies.
Now, why does that sound familiar?
Images of three men flit through my mind. I close my eyes as a ghostly touch brushes lightly down my cheek, the side of my neck, to my collarbone. The air in my lungs grows heavy as a sense of longing and need twists low in my belly.
I lift my hand, rubbing at the center of my chest to try and ease the emptiness I feel there. The feelings of loss and want that overtake me when my mind flits back to that night are unfounded. It was nothing more than that, just one night, and they were working, so it didn’t mean anything to them. But no one has ever made me feel as cherished and desired as they did in that brief interaction. And that means something, doesn’t it?
