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I can’t blame her. There was something alluring about him.
Apparently, a lot of women feel the same way I do based on the size of his official online fan club.
I click on his personal website.
“He was born here in New York City thirty-five-years ago,” I say as I read the bio page.
“Yum.” Liza bumps her shoulder against mine. “That makes him twelve years older than me.”
And eight years older than me.
“I have a thing for older guys.” She giggles. “They’re wise and they make the best lovers.”
I wouldn’t know. I once dated a guy who was three years older than me and the sex wasn’t spectacular. That’s the biggest age gap I’ve ever experienced. “Wisdom doesn’t always come with age, Liza.”
She nods. “You’re right. The last guy I slept with was thirty-six. He wasn’t a genius, but he did know what he was doing in bed.”
I look down at my phone. “He’s a conductor. It says that he’s won prestigious awards and has studied with some of the best classical musicians in the world. He’s guest conducting the Philharmonic starting next month.”
“Alexander is a conductor?” She fans herself. “I could tell he was sophisticated. He had that air about him. You know what I mean, Olivia. Don’t you?”
All I know is that he was stuck-up and smug. He’s good-looking, but that doesn’t make up for being demanding and unreasonable.
Still, a part of me feels a pull to do the right thing and call my cousin, Trey.
Alexander’s nephew shouldn’t miss out on his birthday gift because his uncle took a thief to bed.
“I know that your boss is looking over here and wondering what you’re doing.” I wave a hand in the air at Steph.
Liza glances over her shoulder and tosses Steph a wave herself. “As soon as my shift is over, I’m going to Times Square to see that billboard and then I’m going to buy a ticket to the Philharmonic.”
I’m going home and since my apartment isn’t anywhere near Times Square, I won’t be subjected to a larger than life size image of Alexander Donato.
I’ve seen enough of that man for one day.
***
“So, hypothetically speaking…”
“Olivia, every time you start a sentence with that, you’re about to ask a question about yourself. “ Kate Wesley, my friend and neighbor, interrupts me. Smiling, she tosses a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Cut the bullshit, and get to the point.”
I pull my legs up and curl them under me.
We’re sitting on my couch watching our favorite show on Netflix. It may be Friday night, but neither of us had plans, so when Kate caught sight of me sliding my key into the lock on my apartment door, she opened her door and asked if I was up for movie night.
We live directly across the hall from one another and ever since I moved in eight months ago, Kate has become a good friend to me.
What started as a bad habit of us spying on each other through the peepholes in our doors has turned into a sister-like bond.
“I already know what you’re going to tell me to do, Kate.”
“The right thing?” She arches a brow. “I always tell you to do the right thing.”
She does. Kate is my go-to if I ever need advice about anything.
I tug on the end of her blonde braid. That draws her gaze back to me from the television set. “What is it, Liv?”
I see the concern in her hazel eyes. Kate isn’t just one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. She’s also the kindest.
