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She frowns, but then she shrugs. “I hope you have fun on your little adventure.” With a grin, she stands up. “Don’t go falling into bed with some random woman, since that’s what you normally do on Saturday nights.”
“That’s not true at all!” I say.
She turns around and starts walking back down the hallway. “That’s how I met you, isn’t it?”
I guess she has a point.
Nineteen
ADDISON
The streetlamps made halos in the misty evening air as Angela stepped out of her bakery, eyes drooping after a long day of cupcake baking. Whoever said that starting a bakery would be fun has obviously never actually baked anything. Sure, looking at a thousand cupcakes is fun, but turning bags of flour and sugar into those cupcakes is damned hard work.
But this particular night is special. Twelve years ago to the day, Angela left New York City with her family, leaving Donovan behind…
I pickmy pencil up and twirl it over my fingers like a miniature baton, a fidget that I’ve done since I was a kid. The piece of wood spins so fast that most people can’t keep track of it, but I don’t even have to think about it. The movement is automatic as I try to decide how Donovan and Angela will reunite.
God, how do these romance authors come up with these stories so quickly? Sure, the first book I wrote was finished in two weeks, but I’d been thinking about that story for years, and it just flowed. This is work, and like Angela’s cupcake business, it’s a hell of a lot harder than I expected.
I’ve managed an entire chapter already, and that’s a lot more than I’ve written in a long time. Glancing out the window, I can see that the sun’s still low in the sky. It’s only been a few hours since Phillip left.
I chew my lip as the pencil spins on my finger. Maybe I shouldn’t have written this morning. I’ve been in New York for a week, and truthfully, the only thing I’ve done is work and that one night of karaoke. Maybe I should have seen the city. Phillip may know nothing about surviving as one of the bottom ninety-nine percent, but I bet he knows New York better than I do.
He could probably even help me find places to put in my book.
It’d be nice to go to an actual New York bakery to see how Angela’s shop could feel. I could see what Central Park is like instead of just what I’ve read about.
I try not to think about how much I’d probably enjoy just spending time with Phillip. He’s still my boss, regardless of where he’s sleeping tonight.
Thinking about our not-date at the thrift store makes me smile, though. He was surprisingly fun to shop with, especially for someone who was so against the very idea of wearing another person’s clothes.
He’s so interesting and different. No one would doubt his ability to run one of the biggest companies in the world. But he can’t make coffee? Or use the subway. And doesn’t know how to cook.
You’d think he’d been living under a rock his entire life. There’s something kind of wonderful about that, though. He’s untarnished by the world that’s beat so many people down. Little things are still fun with him. Instead of being depressed because he can’t buy expensive clothes, he’s enjoying the adventure of it all.
I put the pencil on the desk and stand up. One look in the mirror tells me I need to spend some time getting ready, but I think that a day exploring the city could be a welcome change from staring at a computer screen.
Twenty
PHILLIP
The grass is alwaysgreen here. Just a little spot of life in the middle of Manhattan, not far from my father’s townhouse. It’s nothing special. There are no marble pillars of grandeur or art exhibits or even a bench.
Just a little patch of green in a world of gray.
I lean against the wall of the neighboring condo building and feel the bumps and ridges of the brick veneer. The ruby red shirt that I bought yesterday with hard-earned money will have a mark or two from me doing this, but I don’t care.
My black wingtip dress shoes dig into the grass, breaking the carpet of green for a moment and exposing a bit of brown. I haven’t been to this lot in years. Not since I ran away from home one afternoon when I was sixteen.
I’d wanted to go to a movie theater like a normal kid, and my father had ignored my pleas. Instead, I was supposed to go to the office and work on the marketing campaign for some book I’ll never remember. All I’d wanted to do was see a movie for once, and his response was that I could see the movie when work was done.
Except the work was never done.
So I’d left. I hadn’t gone to the movie like I’d wanted to. Truthfully, I didn’t care that much about the movie. What I wanted was freedom. So, I’d come here, just a few blocks away from my father’s townhouse, to the only patch of green within walking distance.
It wasn’t what I was looking for. I’d only stayed for an hour before realizing there wasn’t anything for me here anymore. I couldn’t go back to the past just by coming to the place that reminded me of it.Shewasn’t here, and seeing this place again wouldn’t bring her back.
This was where my mother had taken my brothers and me when we were young, and she needed to get out of the house. She’d sit in the dirt with us and let us run and yell and be kids. Andrew was still barely crawling then, but Mason and I would chase each other and get dirty. My mother was like that, though. She didn’t care about all the things that Father thought were important. She just enjoyed playing with us, and those afternoons were some of the only times that Father let me be a child.
