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“Excruciating,” I said. “Thank you for keeping it short.”
I stood up and gave her and Jasmine one final handshake, and then I moved to the other side of the table. A waiter set a bottle of wine on the table and set down two menus.
"I like Anna," Charlotte said. "I think she'll be able to manage your ego well. Oh, and I meant what I said about looking over your contract, but I think you should hire Frank Baum to look over it professionally. He’s the best lawyer in this city.”
I stared at her.
“What?” She looked confused. “Did I say something wrong?”
"No, I just wish I'd met you sooner."
“I wouldn’t have given you a chance sooner.”
“I think you would’ve.”
“I doubt it.” She laughed. “You probably would’ve approached me with, ‘Hey. I'm Grayson Connors, and I think you're sexy as hell. Give me your phone number,’ and then I would’ve never allowed myself to speak to you again based on principle.”
“I would’ve said sexy as fuck.”
She blushed and picked up her menu.
“Do you still hate seafood places?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “This is my tenth time here with you, and I hate it just as much as the first. I love you, though.”
“I love you, too.”
GRAYSON: NOW
Present Day
New York City
“ARE YOU SEEING ANYONE new, Grayson?” “Are you dating supermodel Elizabeth Thiele again?” “Why weren’t you at the team’s Super Bowl party in Vegas?” “Grayson? Grayson!”
I ignored the annoying questions from the paparazzi and slipped into my car, slamming my foot on the gas. I made it halfway across town and called Anna.
“Yes, Grayson?” She answered on the first ring.
“Could you kindly tell the manager of my condo that I’ll terminate my contract and make it public if he doesn’t do something about letting the paparazzi into the parking garage?”
“I’ll get right on it. Anything else?”
“Did my official MVP picture come in from the Oats Studio yet?”
“It did. I’ll have it framed and sent over right away.”
“Thank you.” I ended the call and sped down 43rd Avenue. I was an hour early for my meeting with Charlotte, and I was determined to get her to answer my questions.
I parked my car in a private garage and paid the guard an additional hundred bucks to keep it quiet. Then I pulled a hood over my head and made my way to the Rosy-gan Café.
When I arrived, an Adele song was playing in the background, and the cacophony of New York traffic was hitting notes of its own outside the windows.
There were no customers inside today, only employees who were hanging new art onto the walls. I wasn’t sure why I hadn't noticed it the day she stood me up, but the pictures they were hanging were undoubtedly hers. The pictures were all variations of coffee and rain, couples on football fields, and Pittsburgh bridges.
I looked over each one, wondering if she’d attended art school first instead of law school after all.
By the time I ordered my second cup of coffee, I noticed that Charlotte was half an hour late. I was tempted to leave now and head to her house, but I decided to give her another thirty minutes.
Five minutes later, she walked into the café and stopped at the counter for a latte. She plopped down in the seat across from me and unbuttoned her coat.
"You look beautiful," I said. "I've always loved you in gray."
“Thank you.” She sipped her latte. “So, what made you fuck Meredith Dawson?” she asked. “That was the first person you publicly slept with after we broke up, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“Or, was it Elizabeth Thieles?” She shrugged. “You two complemented each other pretty well.”
“You’ve already stood me up once and made your point, Charlotte. I don’t think you need to be hostile anymore.”
“I’m not being hostile,” she said. “If I was the one who disappeared on you and slept with tons of famous men, I’m sure you would want to know some of the details.”
“I wouldn’t.”
"Well," she said, shrugging, "I guess that’s where we’re different. So, tell me. Was she a virgin, too?”
I blinked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she was. I picture you collecting V-cards like your MVP trophies—that’s clearly all you wanted from me.”
“Cut the shit, Charlotte.” I’d had enough. “You know damn well that isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it?” There were tears welling in her eyes. “If you ever write a book about your life story, I’ll appreciate it if you put in a section about how much you used me and then left me when I wasn’t of value to you anymore.”
“Stop this.” I grabbed her hand. “Please.”
She slowly moved her hand away from mine and sighed. “I’m sorry. I meant to start by telling you congratulations on winning the Super Bowl and the MVP trophy.”
“Thank you, but I honestly don’t care about any of that right now.” I stood up and extended my hand. “Let’s talk outside.”
