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I think that if she’d lived much longer, our lives would have been much different. Maybe father wouldn’t have turned out the way he has. Her death hit him harder than the rest of us, and he never dated again.
This was her place. No, that’s not true. This wasourplace. The place we went to without my father, with no rules or etiquette. It was freedom from the world we lived in.
I don’t know why I came here today, though. I could have done anything, but as soon as I stepped into the subway tunnel this morning, I knew that this was where I wanted to go.
The street’s busy today, and even in this little haven of nostalgia, the sound breaks through the memories. People talking on cell phones as they walk. The constant hum of thousands of cars passing. Across the street, a man is yelling something at pedestrians.
I sigh as I rub a bit more of the green away from the dirt, growing the hole I’m mindlessly digging with my shoe. “I don’t know what to do now,” I whisper. It doesn’t make sense to talk to an empty lot, but I need to say the words.
“I stepped away from Father and the life he forced on me. Now I don’t know what to do. Where do I go from here?”
For a moment, I hope that there’s an answer to my question that’s plagued me all the nights I sat in that little storage room. I found freedom, but the craving that I feel isn’t sated. I still feel that drive forsomething, but I don’t know if it’s freedom or even something new anymore. Because that voice in my head is still screaming.
At least when I’m not with Addison…
I sigh, knowing the answer and hating it.
After smoothing the grass back over the hole that I’d begun digging, I push away from the wall. This patch of green isn’t what I’ve been looking for. It’s not why I turned away from my fortune and the life that comes along with it.
There’s something more to it, something that I crave, and it won’t be found in that lot. It won’t be found anywhere in my past.
Just like that day I’d run away from home, a place is not what I’m looking for.
Twenty-One
ADDISON
I pickup my phone and am about to text Phillip when the door to my apartment opens. I jump, definitely not used to living with anyone. When he walks in, he sees me jump and a smile crosses his face. “All done writing for the day?”
It’s like he lights up as soon as he sees me. I don’t understand why it happens, but I don’t think it’s all in my head at this point. There’s nothing special about me, but as we’ve spent more time together, I’ve seen how he reacts to other people, and it’s different.
That first day at Loughton House, I saw him when he didn’t know it was me. I saw the coldness in him, that part that Sera and Trish talked about. It didn’t look like he’d smiled a single time in his life. But with me?
“Yeah, my brain is mush. I know you just got back, but do you want to play tour guide for me?”
He cocks his head, the smile only getting wider. “Where do you want to go?”
I just shrug. How am I supposed to know where to go in New York? “Dealer’s choice. I just want to see the city since my book’s set here, and it seems kind of silly to put scenes into it based on internet pictures when I could see them myself.”
Phillip chuckles. “I’d agree with that. What kind of places are in your book?”
I frown, not wanting to tell him anything. Everything I say is a step closer to him convincing me to let him read it. “It’s a second chance romance novel about a hole-in-the-wall bakery owner.”
He nods, hand going to his cheek to scratch at the scruffy beard he’s growing. “Cute places. Romantic places. Hmm… Central Park would be the obvious.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too.”
He grins. “If I had my old credit card, I could show you some places that would blow your mind.”
“Well, Angela is not a billionaire, and neither is her future husband, so we should probably steer clear of those options. Cheap or free would be optimal.”
Phillip seems like he’s excited about the whole idea. “I think I can manage. It’s not every day I get to escort a beautiful woman on an adventure.”
The way he says that so flippantly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, is probably one of the most honest compliments I’ve ever had. And it sinks its claws in, each of them taking root as he gives me the same look he did when the pipes burst, and he dug me out from under the wreckage.
I grab my purse and move toward Phillip. “I hope that you’re ready for the most romantic afternoon you’ve ever had,” he says.
“What does that even mean?” I counter.
