Christos has clearly gone on with his life. He’s filthy rich, has a gorgeous girlfriend who calls him darling, and is some Manhattan hotshot. Me? My life is worse than it was when I was seventeen and in high school. After his mother died and he left my life, it’s like the sun left with him. One tragedy after another. I’ve been grappling to find my footing ever since.
I’ve been sad, trying to figure out how and what could fill the hole and give my life meaning.
It means something to me. My startup. It’s what I’m good at and what keeps me connected to my mom and dad. It’s also what I’ve grown to love.
I’m thirty years old and this December, I’ll be thirty-one. I thought I’d be married and successful by this age. I’m neither. I’ve made peace with the things that don’t pan out as planned, but I’ve also still got dreams and moving to New York was my first step to prove how serious I am about them. The first step needed to make them come true.
When I get to my small flat and realize my roommate Sara isn’t home yet, I sit down on my bed with some of my plans and sketches. The only thing that makes me feel good is getting lost in my own little world. But as I grab my drawing pens, I can’t seem to focus.
I pull out my laptop, boot it up, and open the web browser.
I search Aaric Christos girlfriend.
Miranda Santorini comes up. She’s a Manhattan socialite. They’ve been seen together for the past three months. Her dad owns real estate Christos is after, some speculate.
I’m about to shut my computer when I hear Sara’s voice. “What are you looking at? Is that, whoa, lady boner alert—is that Aaric Christos?”
I shut my laptop and turn. Sara put out an ad the week I arrived in Manhattan, I answered, we hit it off, and we’ve been rooming together ever since. Younger than me by two years, she’s tall and skinny, a ballerina with a broken ankle and a heart of gold, she works as a concierge at a four-star hotel Downtown. I’m surprised that she knows who he is. “How do you know him?”
“Everyone knows him. He’s lava.”
I groan despairingly. “He’s the whole volcano.”
“How do you know him?” she asks.
“He’s an old acquaintance. I saw him tonight.” I rub my temples, which are starting to throb from the pressure of remembering our meeting. “He looked really good. He’s like McDreamy—better as he matures. God, he looked so confident. Successful. Like he’s at the very pinnacle.”
“Newsflash, he is. He’s huge around here.” She eyes me from the door. “Is that a banging look?” she asks mischievously.
I flush and glance at my shut laptop. “Come on. He’s got a girlfriend.”
She wags her brows. “You still want to bang him.”
“No! It’s just…he was this boy I used to know. It’s…I don’t know. He’s the biggest what if I’ve ever had in my life. The one you always wonder about.”
“I can’t believe you knew Christos.” She walks to my bed and drops down on it, kicking her shoes off and curling her legs beneath her as she sits.
“Me either. He wanted me for a time, I guess. I never could go for it,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve always regretted it. I went to talk to him about business tonight, but it didn’t go well.”
“He’s probably thinking if you didn’t give him a chance, why should he give you one now?”
“Maybe,” I agree, but I shake my head. “He doesn’t even know what I’m selling yet.”
“Find a way to see him again. Find a way to get him to say yes.”
“You know what?” I gather my laptop and shoot her a playful, chiding look. “Go and do your stuff, let me have my pity party.”
She laughs and raps her knuckles to the wall behind my bed. “I’m right behind this wall if you need me.”
I nod, then I grab my papers and pens. “How did your audition go?” I ask as she heads for the door.
“As good as your meeting.”
“Oh no,” I groan, raising my voice as she walks out. “You’ll get the part next time!”
“You’ll get the guy.”
“No. I’m not after the guy, Sara. I’m after money for my startup.”
“Then he’ll show you the money,” she yells from the hall.
“You had me at hello!” I yell back.
I’m determined for him to see I’m not ashamed to throw more than rocks at his window. I’ll throw the whole bucket next time we meet.
Christos
18 hours ago…
I smash the ball into the wall, nearly hitting Wells. “You get the ring?” he asks.
“Yep.” I smash it again.
“You’re really doing it?”
I shrug. “Why not?” I turn and smash. Smash, smash.
“Business as usual?” he asks.
I head over for water, guzzle some down, and head back. Bounce the ball, smash. “We’re friends. We have fun together. We respect each other. She’s willing for us
to have an open marriage. She gets my money. I get respect.”
“Damn right!” he says.
“Christos.” I hear a voice behind me.
“Hill.” I greet Jensen, an old high school friend who is leaning on the glass door with his racket at his side.
“Thirty seconds?” he says.
I head over, wipe my sweat with a towel.
“I’ve got a favor. I know someone who’s been trying to get a meeting with you for weeks.”
“I’m really busy.” I toss the towel at a nearby basket.
“Yeah. Understatement.” He grins—a pause as he waits for me. “You think you can see her?”
“I’m sorry, I really am busy.” I smile and slap his back.
“Come on, it’s a special friend of mine. She wants your Midas touch on her startup. She’s your friend too.”
I arch a brow.
“Bryn Kelly. Remember her? Five feet tall. A little funny—”
“I know Bryn,” I cut him off.
“So will you see her?”
Bryn Kelly.
You look like a guy who thinks he’ll get to kiss me.
I will.
I push the thought out of my mind, unaware of how long I’ve been silent.
A restless sensation grips me, and I scrape my jaw with my hand as I try to shake it aside. “My place tomorrow at 8. I’ll fit her in between changing and leaving for a thing with Miranda.”
“Owe you.” He winks. “Let’s do dinner next weekend.”
I lift my racket in consent as I walk away, grab the ball, and smash it against the wall so hard the glass enclosure rattles.
Bryn
It’s Saturday evening, and I found a dog-walking stint to help pay my rent while I get my startup going. From noon to evening, I have a great time walking a group of small dogs, and three large dogs, separately. I end up soaked in sweat and distracted from my business worries, thankfully.
Once I take the last dog home, a retriever named Milly, I get a gym coupon along with my payment from Mrs. Ford. May as well give it a shot, so I check out the new gym and get some stretching in before I take a shower and head out to hunt something to eat before I head home.
I’m craving a salad from one of my favorite Tribeca markets. It has the most delicious balsamic dressing and lettuce that always has a perfect fresh crunch. The combination of berries with goat cheese always gets me. I’m easy like that.
I call Jensen, but get his voicemail.
“Hey. I need another appointment and I need it to be more than five seconds long. Stop ignoring my calls. I’m not backing out now!”
Frustration eats at me. I hang up and sigh.
I walk a couple more blocks into Tribeca and notice a sleek black car slow to a stop at the end of the block. A young couple exits the car, while another couple waiting on the sidewalk steps up to greet them. They’re all dressed to the nines—the women in skirts and silk tops, the men in slacks and button shirts.
It takes me less than a second to recognize the tallest among the men.
Yeah.
The broad-shouldered