Page 213 of Manhattan Bossholes

“No, you were calling to talk to me about my diagnosis. Just like Vincent and Dominic and Paul.”

“And Trent?” I added.

She tsked. “He doesn’t call. He just barges into the house and yaps my ear off.”

I laughed. “You know we all mean well. And speaking of meaning well, any plans for treatment yet?”

“No.” She huffed. “I was advised to get a second opinion, so I’m going to talk to a couple of different doctors first. No point in making any decisions until I’m certain of what’s going on. Then I’ll weigh all the factors. Besides, I know that’s not really why you called.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Tell me what’s going on with you and Cora,” Dee clarified.

I frowned, wondering who’d spilled the beans. Was it my dad? Trent? Dom? “We don’t have to⁠—”

“Oh, we certainly do!” Dee insisted. “Now tell me what happened. Start at the beginning.”

I slumped down on the barstool beside me, relaying everything that happened with Levi and my reaction, culminating in me dumping Cora just like in high school.

“Oh, Aiden,” Dee said when I was done. “You know you’re being a coward, right?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a⁠—”

“I love you, honey,” Dee interrupted, “and I have so much admiration for how strong and smart you are in so many ways…but when it comes to this? You’re refusing to go after what could make you happy simply because you’re afraid. Be honest with me. Be honest with yourself.”

My shoulders slumped, and the fight went out of me. I was afraid. I was terrified that my feelings for Cora were so overwhelming they’d lead me to do something I’d regret. And nothing about that felt simple. “You’re right,” I admitted. “But it’s not as easy as just choosing to be happy. Not when I can think of a million ways it could go wrong.”

“Well, what about all the ways it could go right? Whatever obstacles you and Cora might face as a couple, don’t you think the joy you could bring each other would make it all worthwhile in the end?”

“Maybe…” I wasn’t ready to dismiss my fears—but on the other hand, I knew I hadn’t been nearly as happy as I’d been when I was with her. That much was true.

“Love comes with big feelings, Aiden. It’s about giving someone the ability to hurt you, to destroy you, but trusting them not to. You need to be someone Cora can trust. And you need to trust yourself. Trust that you can have these feelings and still make good decisions.”

I wanted to be that person.

“You’ve always loved so hard, Aiden. I’ve seen it in the way you care for your friends, for me, for Hailey. Don’t let yourself be afraid of that now. If you really love Cora, you’ll find a way to be the person she needs. Of course, I’m not saying it’ll be easy. You’ll have to put in some real effort. But since when have you been scared of hard work?”

“I’m not,” I insisted. “But how do I know it’ll pay off in the end? How do I know I can change?”

“You don’t,” she said simply. “There are no guarantees—except that you definitely won’t change if you’re not even willing to try. If there’s a chance, though, are you really going to give up on it that easily? Doesn’t Cora deserve the man you have the potential to be?”

There was no denying that she was right. If there was a chance that I really could change, that I could make things work to be with Cora after all…then I had to try. I couldn’t let fear hold me back from the future we could have together. If that meant finally taking ownership of myself and my choices, then I could do that. I could become the person Cora needed me to be. I could become a man worthy of a second chance…Well, maybe a third.

30

CORA

“Hello?” I called. I’d been in the middle of a new Masked Mixer video—ever since Jennifer and I had visited the wing joint near our apartment for Souped-up Caesars, I’d been eager to do my own take with a Bloody Mary—but I’d paused the recording when the ringing started from the phone that hung by the front door.

I had everything from deep-fried pickle spears, mini-sliders, olives, and tomato juice spread from one end of our tiny kitchen to the other, but that phone was a direct line to the front desk, so I figured I’d better answer in case it was a delivery or something. I was slowly starting to accumulate ingredients for the drink I planned to make to celebrate one million Instagram followers—a target I was hoping to hit by the end of the year—and I had random packages showing up all the time. The Commonwealth cocktail had a grand total of seventy-one ingredients, so I’d started planning early.

And anyway, the ringing was loud. It wasn’t like I could just ignore it and keep recording.

“Cora?”

“Hey, Carlos,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“Slow day. Can’t really complain. But I’ve got a very grouchy woman here in the lobby who’s threatening to show me a bad time if I don’t let her up to see you.”