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‘Yep. Older. I have two, actually. Two half brothers and two stepsisters. I’m the youngest. Three dads between us.’
‘Do you miss them?’
She raises one shoulder and picks at the edge of her bagel. ‘We’re not really a close family. I needed and wanted a change.’ She pauses, then, as if a wave of something comes over her, she lifts her head and smiles. ‘Hey, if I ever want to see them it’s only a flight away, right?’
I wait a beat, expecting her to say more. Nothing comes, and I get the feeling she might never want to see her family again.
I can’t remember the last time any woman, other than Sarah, made me curious to know more. Like why did she need a change? I decide now is not the time to ask. In any event, why would she want to share her life story with me?
‘Well, British Becky, thanks for the stainless-steel bed. I need to work now.’
‘You’re crazy. You need to go home and go to bed. Real bed. Or at least shower and change.’
‘I can do that in the office.’
We both trash our wrappers, and we’re left standing facing each other, an awkward silence descending. How on earth is this supposed to end? How would it end with Sarah? We’re friends; it’s just the same thing, right?
She gets there first. ‘Okay, well, I guess I’ll go decorate those cakes.’
‘Right. Sure. And I’ll go get my injunction.’
‘Yep. Okay then.’
She turns to walk away, and I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief when she spins back around. ‘It was nice to get to know you. Someone. In the city. Thanks, Drew.’
I nod because I’m not sure what else to say to her. Then I start to walk away. God, she’s so great and so grateful that someone in this city spent time with her. She shouldn’t be grateful. She’s so… she’s… ‘Becky!’
She turns in the street and I’m shouting across the suits walking between us. ‘You can’t go to Yankee Stadium without actually watching a game. There’s like a law against it. And I would know.’ I feel passersby looking at me like I’m some kind of weirdo. I couldn’t give a… ‘Let me take you.’
‘Okay!’
‘Okay?’
‘Okay!’
‘I’ll send a ticket to the restaurant.’
‘Okay.’ She’s laughing as she walks backward away from me, not considering how many people will knock into her. Christ, she really is a tourist.
* * *
‘You’re looking especially happy, considering you were here until the small hours.’ Sarah carries her daily bowl of porridge as we walk the corridor. It’s some quinoa thing that sounds healthy until you see that it’s drowning under Manuka honey: Sarah’s latest fad.
I try to rein in the grin I hadn’t realized was on my face. Before I manage to do that, Sarah halts on the spot and sucks in a breath, making me stop alongside her. ‘Are those yesterday’s clothes?’
Ah, crap. I resume the walk to my office and she totters in her heels to catch up to me. ‘They are, aren’t they? No wonder you’re smiling. I just told you to apologize to the woman. Although, wait, in Drew language that probably did mean sleep with her.’
‘You’ve got the completely wrong idea. And don’t you have work to do?’
‘My job is to see and hear everything that goes on in this place and report back to you. What I’m seeing and hearing is that you slept with Becky.’
When we reach her desk, I press a hand to her shoulder and encourage her to sit. ‘No, I didn’t. If you must know, I fell asleep in these clothes. Now, I’m going to grab a spare suit from my office, shower and change. Then I’m going to do my job. Like you should be doing yours.’
She raises a hand and leans back in her desk chair. ‘Hold up. You went to her apartment?’
I growl and screw my knuckles into my suddenly tired eyes. ‘No, I fell asleep in the kitchen at the restaurant.’
She presses a hand to her mouth, but her bellowing laugh still finds a way out. ‘You’re such a loser.’
