I pretend to be totally unaffected as I help Chari remove her coat, revealing a shimmering black cocktail dress. One side is off the shoulder. My eyes are immediately drawn to the exposed skin there, but I train them back to her face.
She’s already looking past me, at the apartment.
“Go ahead, look around.”
I put her bag and coat in the oversized coat closet as I make my way to the bar just off the kitchen.
“Can I get you a drink?”
I pour myself an Angel Red, in the mood for wine tonight, and pull out a glass for her.
“You know I’m a beer girl,” she says, standing in front of the window across from me. “This view. Holy shit, Enzo. It’s insane.”
I do know that, and I reach into the refrigerator. “Angel Pale Ale or something else? I’ve got Premiere and Dogfish.”
Chari turns toward me. “You have other brands?”
“Not usually. But I picked up some of the usual suspects. I know what you like.”
That comes out more suggestive than intended, and I’m aware it’s not entirely true. What I wouldn’t give to know exactly what this woman likes, in every respect.
“I drink yours too,” defending herself.
“Listen,” I say, because I need to get this off my chest. “I tell everyone. You don’t have to drink Angel just because it’s mine. If you’re driving, it makes sense. But you don’t need to do it on my account. Plus we don’t have the range of other beers.”
If people like our product because they genuinely enjoy it, great. If not, it’s up to our team to figure out how it could be better. But everyone likes to mix things up once in a while. I do too.
“I’m serious,” I say in response to her skeptical look.
Chari smiles, running her finger along the windowpane. What I wouldn’t give to be that windowpane right about now.
“I’ll have an Angel Pale, please.”
I bring her the drink, trying to see the apartment, and the view, from her perspective. Trying to see it for the first time.
“When we first came to New York, it was only supposed to be for a long weekend. After two days of meetings, I stood over there.” I gesture in the direction of Hayden’s first apartment. “And thought to myself, I could never live here.”
I glance at her, but the sight of Chari’s mouth on the rim of that bottle is way too distracting, so I look back outside.
“And yet, here you are,” she says softly.
“Yep, here I am.”
“So do you like it now? Do you ever miss PA?”
That’s a loaded question.
“I love it here. All of the things I thought I’d hate—the people, the noise, the constant comings and goings—they’ve grown on me. It’s home now.”
“And Bridgewater?”
I think about last weekend. My family. The pizza shop. The lake. My old friends.
“Also home. But one from a different life. I could never manage the business from there now. Every contact I’ve made is here.” I gesture toward the bar. “Want to sit?”
She looks back out, and I get it. Even after all this time, it’s a pretty spectacular view.
“I’m okay.”