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Sure, some of it kind of smells like old feet and garbage. And yeah, Allison almost got mugged after a photoshoot the other day, but that could happen anywhere. And okay, yes, the bunk bed thing is getting a little old… but days like this? Days like this make me appreciate that I can walk out the door of my building and buy an orange at the corner. Or a hot dog. The vibe of this city cannot be beat. In fact, as I enter Central Park, I know in my bones that I feel something when I’m in NY that I don’t feel when I’m in Iowa. More alive, more myself.
Much like I felt with that kiss last night.
But it wasn’t real, right? I mean sure, it was real. But it didn’t mean anything. It was the result of waking up post-sex dream, of Mason acting on his nanny-slash-librarian fetish and trying to cross another girl off his list. Nothing more.
If only it hadn’t felt like more. Then I wouldn’t be finding it so hard to forget.
Thank God for Lauren. Talking my problems through with her always, always makes things feel better. I’ve never been happier to see her and get a dose of her straight talk. I just know she’ll tell me to keep focused on this job and ignore any sexual tension.
Once we find each other in the park, I talk her through everything—including the kiss, skipping past certain parts like how I moaned his name and how his mouth felt incredible against mine.
“So, you know, I made a mistake, obviously,” I explain. “And whatever happens next, I know I just need to hang on to this job and ignore him. No matter how hot he is.”
Lauren considers this. Her eyes keep flitting to the empty stroller, then back to me.
“It’s all a game to him, anyway,” I continue, rambling on per usual. “I think he just likes surrounding himself with people who amuse him. Like his assistant must be costing him more than her salary in fuck-ups. He’s paying me to hang out in his house every day just to, I don’t know, see what happens next.”
“Exactly,” Lauren agrees. “Because he’s captivated by you.”
Um. Not exactly what I thought she’d say.
“Yeah, but nothing is going to happen,” I say. “Because he’s my boss. And not everyone gets a happily-ever-after in Manhattan. How is your husband anyway?”
Lauren raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing my abrupt change in subject. “He’s great,” she says. “Did I ever tell you that I met Max while wearing a wedding dress?”
That gets my attention. Because no, I haven’t heard this story. “Why were you in a wedding dress?”
“Bad job.” Lauren waves a hand in my direction. “Every girl in New York has had one.”
“And he hit on you while you were wearing a wedding dress?”
She nods. “He did. And I had no idea what was going on. I couldn’t tell if he was flirting with me or insulting me. He asked me to dinner and I gave him about five excuses as to why I couldn’t have dinner with him. Including that I needed to wash my hair and attend book club.”
“You told Max you couldn’t go out with him because you needed to go to book club?”
“I did. And you know what? He showed up at book club, just to see me.”
“Aww. And then you let him take you to dinner?”
“No.” She shakes her head, remembering. “Then I dragged him back to his place and had sex with him. We didn’t even make it to his bedroom.”
“Oh. Okay, well. Thank you for that romantic re-telling of your meet-cute with Max. Appreciate it.”
She holds up her hand, making me stop with the stroller. “The point is, Libby, the entire time I was seducing him all I could think was, ‘I’m so glad I took a chance and said yes.’ Which is exactly why you should take a chance on Mason.”
Fuck. I should’ve realized she was just winding up to turn this into some kind of life lesson. I shake my head, pushing the stroller around her so that she has to follow me to keep up.
“I thought you wanted me to take a chance on my New York dreams,” I remind her. “Remember? All that ‘go for it’ adventure stuff from before?”
“I told you to ignore your sister’s practical advice and go down the path that you’re passionate about,” she says. “I said take all the wild twists. Well, this is a helluva twist, but you can’t ignore that you have chemistry. Why not see what happens?”
I glare at her. It’s easy for her to say, the hopeless romantic who snagged a man while wearing a wedding dress. “He hasn’t even asked me out or anything,” I say. “This is all just projection.”
“Sure, sure.” She nods. “He hired you for a job that doesn’t exist, texts with you all day about a baby who isn’t real, and kissed you. But he’s not into you at all.”
