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“Doubtful,” she blurts. “Since you’ll be working there, you’re bound to meet him, right? Take a selfie with him so I can put a face to all of that.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ll meet him. I have a junior position in their marketing department, Naomi. I doubt I get direct access to models.”
“You’ll make it happen,” she says with confidence edging her tone. “If I didn’t love being at home with my kids so much, I’d be envious of you and your new job.”
I glance at the stroller. “You have the best job in the world.”
“I really do,” she agrees with a smile. “I’m starving. Do you have time for an early dinner? It’s my treat. Harlan is taking Bodhi to baseball practice, so it’s boy’s night. They’ll grab some pizza on the way home. You know how much Bodhi loves pizza.”
I do know. My seven-year-old nephew can eat half a cheese pie by himself.
I look down at the white blouse and denim cut-off shorts I’m wearing. Wherever we go, it’s going to have to be casual.
“Let’s go to Lise,” she suggests. “They have that salmon quiche there that the baby adores.”
She’s the one who adores it, but I’m in. I’m not picky when it comes to food, and the bistro she loves has excellent food and service.
Naomi steals one last glance at the billboard. “Goodbye, Callie’s future husband.”
I bark out a laugh. “Never in a million years.”
“Never say never,” she tosses her favorite quote at me. “You can’t predict what the future holds.”
I smile as I hear Tabitha stirring in the stroller. “I can predict that you will have a very hungry little girl on your hands in the next ten seconds. Let’s get to Lise.”
Chapter Six
Callie
I glanceat the clock on my nightstand before I scream into my pillow.
It’s ten minutes to two.
In the freaking morning.
I’m due to start my new job at Wells in just seven hours.
I haven’t got a wink of sleep yet because my neighbor has been partying hard since nine o’clock. I was hopeful that it would quiet down as it usually does at around midnight, but the volume ticked up then.
More people arrived.
My jerk of a neighbor went out in the corridor to greet them. I watched all of it through my peephole as my blood boiled.
Swinging my legs over the side of the king-sized bed, I step onto the hardwood floor.
There is enough light filtering in through the window that I can make out where I dropped my faded jeans and sweater on a chair near the closet.
I march over and slip them on before raking a hand through my hair.
I don’t care if I look horrible.
I’m dead tired, annoyed, and aching to scream at my neighbor.
I shove my feet into the first pair of shoes I find, stumbling briefly because three inch red heels aren’t the best choice, but I’m too tired to scrounge around in the dimly lit room to find something more appropriate.
I march through the apartment toward the foyer, stopping briefly to scoop up my keys before opening the door.
The sight that greets me is enough to send me back into my apartment.
