He groaned as she hung up on him, but his irritation was superficial. He hadn’t seen Naomi in almost nine months, and he’d be happy to have her around, though he cringed over what she’d do to his bathroom counter. This time he’d just clear his stuff out of there entirely. And she probably wouldn’t stay long. She was a restless soul.
She’d had an apartment in New York for a couple of years, but she’d spent only a few nights a year there. Even when she wasn’t traveling, she liked being with other people too much to live alone.
If he thought too long about it, there was no sign she’d ever be ready to settle down. His solution was not to think too long about it. Somebody had to take over the family business.
Their dad had inherited the original MacKenzie’s from his father, just a little burger joint in Queens. But their dad had taken that little burger joint and all his father’s secrets, and he’d turned the business into a chain of high-end retro restaurants that had gotten more popular every year since 1999. They ground their own beef, won awards for their french fries and served fifteen-dollar bourbon-spiked milkshakes to all the hipsters of Manhattan.
Gabe had worked in the restaurants from the time he could walk. He knew everything about the business. But his heart wasn’t in it. Every single year, he’d put each dollar he earned at MacKenzie’s in the bank to save up for summer wilderness camps. He liked the restaurants and he loved the people, but running MacKenzie’s wasn’t his passion.
It would just be his job.
Dad wasn’t going to retire until one of his kids took over, and Gabe was very afraid his dad would work himself into an early grave. After his father had had two minor health scares in the past year, Gabe had known what he needed to do.
His dad would turn sixty in one year, and Gabe had talked him into retiring then. He’d talked him into it by agreeing to take over. He’d talked himself into it by pretending that five years from now Naomi might be willing to take the reins for a while. Hell, ten years from now even vegan Claire might get on board.
Until then...well, you did what you needed to do for your family, and Gabe’s dad deserved to step down and relax for a while. He’d worked hard to pass MacKenzie’s on to his kids, and Gabe would make sure that happened.
But not right now. He didn’t have to think about any of that right now, because he was on his way to see Veronica.
He stepped into his apartment and shed his tension along with his work clothes. Veronica hadn’t been specific, but a charity event at a gallery sounded more formal than other Jackson events, so no jeans tonight. He showered as quickly as he could, then pulled on black slacks and a blue dress shirt. He was out the door at eight fifteen and hoped the walk over would finish drying his hair.
He’d been looking forward to seeing her all day. Hell, he’d been looking forward to seeing her since the moment he’d left her place on Sunday night. He was glad she’d gotten in touch. He’d wanted to text her this morning, but he hadn’t trusted his impulse. Maybe he’d wanted to speak to her, or maybe he’d just wanted to make sure she thought of him as amazing. The perfect lover. The guy who’d made her come and then texted her in the morning to say hi.
He’d never really thought of himself as...manipulating situations. Not until a bad breakup two years before. They’d been seeing each other for six months, and Gabe had been ready to end it, but he’d wanted to let her down gently. Eloise had been talking about love and the future, and Gabe had felt himself cringing away, but still... He hadn’t wanted to be an asshole about it.
That had seemed like a kind thing until Eloise had confronted him and accused him of always wanting to be the good guy and stringing her along in the process. If he’d just been honest, she could have moved on, and instead he’d kept her thinking there might be a chance.
“You think you’re doing the right thing,” she’d yelled, “but all you do is try to manipulate how I see you! Stop fucking around with my emotions and tell me the truth.”
He’d told her the truth then, because he’d been angry enough to do it. It was only later that he’d really thought about what she’d said. It took almost a year to realize she’d been right. He liked to control what people thought of him, be their ideal. He didn’t want to do that with Veronica.
Especially because he knew he was misleading her in other ways. With another woman, Gabe could keep quiet about his plans and see where the relationship led. Enjoy the ride.
But Veronica threw a huge wrench into the works. It didn’t feel casual. It wasn’t serious yet, but it could be. Not a problem in and of itself, but Veronica hated New York, and he was heading back there. There was no way around that. If things did get serious with her, there was no future.
Even if he set next year’s plans aside and focused only on the present, he was misleading her. He hadn’t lied exactly. Yes, he’d grown up in New York City, but he hadn’t lived there full-time since he’d left for college at eighteen. It no longer felt like his home, but his family was still there. He still went back for holidays. Now that she was comfortable with him, he could tell her that. Let her know that not all guys from Manhattan were assholes.
Reassuring himself that she’d understand or at the very least that he couldn’t control how she’d feel about it, he spotted the gallery ahead and picked up his pace.
He’d been in a couple of the Jackson galleries, but he could tell this one was way too rich for his blood as he approached. There was a huge abstract bronze statue in the window that he’d guess cost something close to six figures. This was no local artists’ shop.
It was a large space and crowded with people. Gabe had assumed he’d spot Veronica as soon as he walked in, but she didn’t seem to be in the front room. He passed through to a back room that was even bigger. A bar was set up in the middle of the room and dozens of people milled around. They weren’t his normal Jackson crowd. In fact, he felt as if he’d been transported back to Manhattan. The women wore spike heels and lots of jewelry. Most of the men were twice Gabe’s age. He had no idea how Veronica had ended up here. Maybe it was part of her gig with the paper.
He scanned the crowd as he walked slowly around the bar, watching for the bright, vibrant Veronica who made public appearances. But he didn’t find her. He found a shier version.
She stood in a corner, in the shadows between two brightly lit paintings. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, and her eyes were cast down, staring at the champagne in her hand. She wore a little black dress that skimmed her bo
dy and showed off her legs. Gabe’s heart skipped at the sight of her.
It did more than skip when she looked up and spotted him. The uncertainty on her face disappeared in an instant, replaced by a smile that crinkled her eyes and twisted his heart.
“Gabe!” he heard her say from twenty feet away. She strode toward him, her legs muscles tightening with the movement. He let himself watch the show.
She reached toward him as if she meant to hug him but then seemed to catch herself and stuttered to a stop a foot away. “Hi,” she said.
He leaned closer, keeping his hands to himself as his mouth neared her cheek. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, and watched her skin turn pink.
She touched her hair and ducked her head. “Thank you. And thank you for coming.”