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We stopped in front of a building just off of Central Park. My heart skipped as I looked up at the towering thing. I couldn’t believe that I could afford an apartment here. It had been my goal the last time I was here, but it had felt unattainable. Just a dream. Like I’d never really fit in with all these fancy Upper East Siders.
Not a girl from Dallas, Texas, who had shunned everything her parents stood for. Mom and Dad were wealthy in a Texas way. Land and ranching and horses. They were Junior Leaguers and country clubbers and the sort. They’d wanted to turn their daughter into the beautiful, brainless blonde that matched the rest of the town.
My brother was home, married to the version of me that I would have become if I’d stayed, with the requisite two and a half children. They went to the right schools and participated in the right activities and belonged to the right clubs. They were everything that I wasn’t.
My first dream had been to sing. They’d laughed at me when I brought it up. It was one thing to sing in the church choir. It was another thing to sing at weddings on the weekends for extra money. Another thingentirelyto want to go to LA to pursue a singing career.
They wanted a daughter to fit a mold and find a good husband, not to be a starving artist in LA, pursuing a once-in-a-lifetime dream. A dream they made clear that I wasn’t good enough for and they wouldn’t support.
I was supposed to go to college to find a husband. When that didn’t happen, I went on to medical school because it looked good to level up my MRS degree, not to actually become a doctor. Certainly not a plastic surgeon.
Not that I could do anything right in their eyes. Plastic surgery had worked out. They’d been right about my voice. The dream was too far-fetched. I didn’t sing in front of anyone anymore. But I hadn’t gotten that MRS degree either.
I was better for it now that I was looking at a Central Park–facing apartment.
Lark introduced me to Cassie, and we toured the home. Lark shot me a look and shook her head. The one that I’d missed earlier that morning was nicer. We skipped to the next one and the next and the next.
They were all wonderful in their own way. Much nicer than where I’d lived last time I was in the city. I’d been making good money. But good money didn’t buy you much in the city. Only legacy money or stupid money did that. And now, I—who was far, far from the trust funds of my peers—was makingstupidmoney. So, I would hold out fortheapartment.
“Oh,” I whispered as we stepped into the last one on our list.
“Now, this one is a little higher than your initial price point. The building fees are double, which I understand is a sticking point,” Cassie said, walking me through the apartment. “But it has a doorman and bell service. There’s a whole list of amenities, including twenty-four-hour-a-day security, a courtyard, a gym, and a rooftop pool.”
I tuned out the rest of the sales pitch as I walked through the apartment in a daze. It was perfect. Modern and sleek. Everything was updated and fresh. It smelled like a new home.
Lark came to my side in the master bedroom, which had a view overlooking the park, and arched an eyebrow. “You like this one?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too.”
I glanced at her. She was hiding something. “What?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Lark, I can read you. It’s been three years, but I’m not stupid.”
Lark laughed. “Most people can’t see my tells.”
“I’m not most people.”
“I suppose not.” She ran a hand back through her red hair and smirked at me. “Gavin lives in this building.”
I froze at those words. They hadn’t been what I was expecting at all. “What? I thought he lived by Court.”
“He did. He moved last year.”
“Oh.”
Lark grinned. “Is that a problem?”
“Why would it be?”
“Well, you were all over each other last night.”
I blinked. “Uh … we were?”
“God, how drunk were you?”
