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As I ride the elevator to the fifteenth floor—in a building not too far from Brynn’s—I tug on the hem of her pinstriped suit jacket. While it might be a bit snug, it covers most of my torso (including the conspicuous handprints), and I’m grateful she suggested I borrow it. Her pants, on the other hand, hit above my ankles, so I’m stuck with my lightweight linen trousers. Fortunately, I saw an article inVoguerecently where similar bottoms were paired with a blazer for a “laid-back office look,” and I’m hopeful I can pull it off.
To my delight, the receptionist actually compliments my outfit, and doesn’t even bat an eyelash when I recite my rehearsed speech, escorting me to the conference room without a single question asked. So far, this is playing out perfectly. Although, it could still devolve into a disaster. I have no idea how Ethan will react when he sees me.
He does a double take when I stride into the room, then his shoulders visibly relax with relief. His nervous energy is palpable, and I know exactly how he feels. The first time I pitched an ad campaign was for a dog treat company, and I was so racked with anxiety, I nervously took a bite out of a bacon-flavored biscuit. I tried to play it off as part of my presentation—dog treats sopawsitively delicious, they’re not just for pets—but I’m not sure they were convinced. I did land the account, though.
“Sorry I’m late.” I set Brynn’s briefcase on the long conference table and whip out her laptop. Thankfully, everything I need is cloud-based.
“Andyouare?” A middle-aged man in a steel-gray suit narrows his gaze at me, and his two subordinates—who look like slightly younger carbon copies—follow his lead.
“Quincy Carmichael, CEO of Carmichael Creatives, East Coast Division.” I flip open the laptop, getting a thrill out of saying my new job title for the first time. “I’m personally handling all of MAD Market’s advertising needs.”
“You didn’t mention you were already working with a marketing firm.” Steel Suit turns to Ethan, sounding impressed.
Ethan opens his mouth but is still too stunned to speak.
“Not only that,” I add, giving him time to recover from my unexpected entrance. “We already have our first ad campaign.” I pull up the video I showed Ethan several weeks ago and press Play, reveling in the way their expressions brighten with increased interest as each new celebrity appears on screen. I can already tell they’re hooked, but for good measure, I wait until the end of the video and say casually, “Two of the celebrities you saw in this video have already agreed to come on board as investors. So, if you want to get in on the ground floor, I suggest you act quickly.”
I can barely refrain from laughing as they exchange glances, practically salivating with eagerness.
Ethan raises his eyebrows at me, and I shoot him a secretive smile. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it before, but on the cab ride over, I made a couple of quick calls. Two out of the three celebrities I had time to contact were interested in backing Ethan’s idea financially. Which, in hindsight, makes perfect sense since they believed in the project enough to endorse it in the video.
“What do you say, gentlemen?” I glance at my watch as if I have other, more important places to be—a tactic I’d seen my dad employ in countless client meetings.
Steel Suit murmurs something to the man seated on his left, just low enough that I can’t make it out, then meets my eye. “We’ll write up the contracts today. Is that soon enough?”
“Ethan?” I ask, making sure everyone knows that he’s the one in charge.
He still looks a little dazed but manages a nod. “That sounds acceptable.”
“Excellent. We’ll have the contracts sent to you by messenger by the end of the day.” Steel Suit stands, followed by his underlings, and they file out of the room, leaving Ethan and me alone.
In the wake of their departure, we face each other in silence, Ethan gazing at me with a mixture of bewilderment, awe, and utter exhilaration.
“That went pretty well, don’t you think?” I say with a shy grin, suddenly feeling vulnerable now that the rush of the pitch is over.
“That’s an understatement,” he breathes, taking a tentative step toward me. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I can’t believe I almost missed it.” For a moment, I forget we’re standing in a rectangular fishbowl, our every action visible by the men and women on the other side of the solid glass wall. I bridge the gap between us, just short of flinging myself into his arms. I’m dying to touch him, to hold him close, but I relinquished that right when I fled. Instead, I open the web browser on Brynn’s laptop and type in the address for the website we created together, the one I’d been using as an online journal. “There’s something I’d like you to read.”
When I turn the screen toward him, he blinks in surprise. “Your blog? But you wanted to keep that private.”
“I did. But now, I’d like you to read my last entry.”
He leans forward, then hesitates. “You’re sure?”
“Don’t make me read it out loud,” I threaten in a teasing tone, although I’m not sure I could, even if I tried. Not without dissolving into a blubbering mess. Unlike Veronica, I’mnota pretty crier.
He presses his palm on the table, stooping to read the small box of text.
I hold my breath, recalling every nuance of what I wrote, down to each individual comma, as his eyes scan back and forth across the screen.
Today, I told my dad that New York is my home, where I belong. But I didn’t tell him why. It’s not because it has this vibrant, surging energy that ignites a sense of optimism, as if anything is possible. It’s not because there are pockets of wonder and magic scattered all throughout the city, evoking awe and amazement when you least expect it. And it’s not because it’s a living, breathing entity that’s constantly teaching me something new, shaping me into a better version of myself.
I love all those things about this extraordinary city, but it’s not what makes it home. What makes it home is Ethan. He enriches my life simply by being in it. His steadfast presence is like an anchor, but instead of cementing me in place, he keeps me rooted to what really matters, so I can grow and reach and climb without losing myself along the way.
I belong in New York because I belong with Ethan. And I only regret that it took me this long—a lifetime, really—to realize it.
When Ethan finishes reading, he looks up, searching my face. His hazel eyes are like a lucent window into his soul, and a pleasant shiver ripples through me when I glimpse the tender intensity reflected back at me.
