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I chew on the inside of my cheek. I can’t tell if it’s a coworker request or if it could be construed as a date. And either way, I’m too drained and distracted for dinner to sound appealing. I’d rather order takeout and lounge around in my pajamas. But I don’t want to offend Tyler, either.
“I’m not feeling great. I think I’m just going to turn in early.”
He nods, thankfully not looking upset. “It’s been a long day. Do you want me to pick you up some food?”
“No, thanks. I’ll order something.”
Tyler nods, then focuses on his phone for the rest of the drive. I stare out at the familiar sights of New York City.
The landscape is familiar, but it also looks different.
It’s not just a city. It’sOliver’scity.
This is where he works. Lives. Dates. And while that shouldn’t make any difference to me, it’s a thought I can’t shake as we sit in traffic.
I don’t know exactly where Kensington Consolidated has its offices—no doubt some prime, downtown location—but I imagine Oliver making a similar drive to this one when he heads to and from work each day, past soaring skyscrapers and food trucks and yellow cabs.
Tyler and I split up once we arrive back at the lobby of the Carlyle. He goes up to the hotel’s front desk to request a car for later. I head toward the elevators, eager to get up to my room.
Even though we already said our goodbyes, Tyler waves before the doors close. He seems genuinely unbothered by me not wanting to spend extra time with him, and it’s a relief.
I’ll get through the next couple of days of meetings, and then I’ll be back in LA. Maybe I’ll host both of my parents for dinner this weekend, and I can tell them about architecture school then. It’s not like it will be a massive surprise—I hope. They know it’s an interest of mine, orwas.
And then I remember how ecstatic my dad was on my first day as an official employee, and my stomach twists into an uncomfortable knot.
As soon as I’m inside my room, I strip out of the dress and blazer I’ve been wearing all day. We only stopped here for a few minutes between the airport and leaving for the first meeting, and it’s a relief to finally be free of the constricting clothes. It feels even more amazing to step under a stream of warm water. New York is at least fifteen degrees cooler than LA was this morning, which I was expecting but didn’t really dress for.
My phone rings right as I step out of the shower. Most likely my father, calling to check in.
I rush into the bedroom with dripping hair and a haphazardly wrapped towel, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. My phone is charging on the bedside table. I stub my toe as I skid to a stop, swearing as the stab of pain makes my knee buckle. I hop one-legged, checking my foot for permanent damage, as I answer the phone.
“Hello?” I answer, breathless.
“Hannah?” Icy heat works its way down my spine as I experience a flood of dread and excitement. My toe no longer throbs. I say nothing, cursing myself for not checking who was calling before I answered.
I didn’t think he’d call me again. Didn’t think I’d be in this situation.
“Hannah?” Oliver repeats.
I clear my throat and grip the towel tighter. “Hi, Oliver.”
“Is this an okay time?” he asks hesitantly.
I’m panting like I’ve run a marathon. And the last time we spoke, I hung up on him. So I understand his apprehension. “Yes.”
An opportunity to end this conversation before it’s begun, and that’s all I say:Yes. The surprise and panic are ebbing away, replaced by more pleasant sensations. Like…happiness. Relief.
He called, and I didn’t think he would. Thought calling me back after I hung up was the end of our communication.
“The petition was filed today.”
“I know.”
The reminder dampens my mood a little, but not by much. Because that’s not something he needed to call me about.
My attorney texted me this morning. The message from her delivered as soon as I landed in New York, which wasn’t the best start to this trip. I was expecting it. It was a bit of a mystery why he hadn’t filed already.
Even though it’s silent on his end, I can practically hear his thoughts turning, wondering what to say next.
