“Yes,” I say on a little laugh. “Trenton’s out with some guys from his office. They’re celebrating snagging a big client today. He’s making connections and all that jazz. He’ll probably show up later.”
Oscar arches a brow. He and Trenton have never been great friends, and I read his face like an open book. He thinks Trenton not being here is an asshole move.
“His career’s important to him,” I add.
Oscar shrugs, looking dapper in his slacks and blue button-up shirt with the cuffs rolled up. “He can always catch us at the club, because we are going dancing, baby girl! I’m glad you wore your dancing shoes.”
Axe, the new guy in Oscar’s life, glances down and whistles at my birthday gift to myself, a pair of metallic silver Christian Louboutins—from Barneys, of course.
Oscar sighs and covers his heart. “My ten percent discount is the only reason you love me.”
I slap his arm. “That’s not true—I only love you because you cook like a dream.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “Pancakes tomorrow?”
I throw my arms around him. “I’ll make the eggs—or at least I’ll try.”
He laughs as a text comes in for me, and I rush to look at it, thinking it’s Trenton. It isn’t, but I’m not too disappointed since it’s Lexa wishing me a happy birthday from Atlanta. I show it to Oscar and we take a selfie to send to her. She attended Emory University after Claremont and we’ve drifted apart over the years. I still enjoy hearing from her though.
A few minutes later, I leave the table to go to the restroom.
A long rectangular-shaped building, the bulk of Bono’s seating is near the front with a large bar area along the right wall. There’s a restroom in the back along the left side, but the place is packed and I don’t feel like struggling through the Saturday night crowd of singles on the prowl. Instead, I opt to hit the restrooms on the basement level, a part of the restaurant that’s less urban and more comfy, usually reserved for private parties. I once met Reese Witherspoon in this section when she was celebrating wrapping up a movie in New York.
Bono’s is a popular place, especially with celebrities, and considering my resume consisted of Jo’s Diner in Highland Park, I was thrilled to get a position here. Luck seems to follow me everywhere in New York; it’s weird. Maybe it’s because I’m just so damn glad to be out of Highland Park that my positive vibes radiate out around me.
I take the stairs carefully in my heels, and I’m on the last step, just about to turn and head into the ladies’ room, when I come to a complete stop.
Shock hits me, stealing my breath. It’s him.
There’s a fierce jab to my heart . . . first love always cuts the deepest.
Spider looks down at his phone, his thumb scrolling as he turns the corner to the alcove that leads into the restroom.
He hasn’t seen me yet, and my eyes greedily take him in.
His hair is longer than I remember, and I watch as he pushes it off his forehead into his sweptback style, only instead of white or blue, the color is a dark brown with blond highlights. It’s new and different. It’s hot as hell.
My skin warms as I stare at him unabashedly, anxious for any little detail.
Wearing a maroon V-neck cashmere sweater that fits him like a glove and a pair of skinny dress slacks, he’s broader in the shoulders, taller even, although I don’t think that’s possible.
He looks like a guy who breaks hearts every single night with just a strum of his fingers on his guitar—or a girl’s skin.
I stop that kind of thinking.
Just the memory of the girl in Dallas makes me want to vomit.
He puts the phone to his ear as if he’s making a call, and almost unconsciously, I step back into the dark shadow of a corner created by the recess in the staircase.
“Is the flat ready?” I hear him say.
He doesn’t seem to like what he hears because he places his free palm on the wall as if to steady himself, a vulnerable look to his shoulders as he listens to whoever is talking.
“Indeed. You didn’t mention that tidbit before. How the bloody hell do you expect me to stay at the same building she’s—”
He stops abruptly, as if the person on the other end has cut him off. He taps his fingers against the wall as the conversation continues. I shuffle forward, straining to hear, terrified he’ll turn around and see me, but I can’t seem to stop myself, especially when his tone changes to a cajoling one.
I hear snippets.
“Hiya, sweets . . . see you soon . . . love . . .”
He laughs warmly.
“Tell him I’m going to bring you a puppy, love. See how Papa likes that. . . . who’s your favorite big brother, Bella?” he says, plain as day, and my chest constricts.
Bella!
Of course he knows Bella, Robert and Anne’s three-year-old. We both see her now and then—just never at the same time. I’ll show up for Christmas and then Robert will casually mention that Spider is arriving a few days after I leave. It’s weird and bizarre but I guess he just doesn’t want to see me.
“Bye, sweets. I love you. Tell Papa I’ll see him soon, okay? Also, tell him to lighten up on the carrots—you need more chocolate pudding.” He chuckles as he tucks the phone in his pocket, his body turning toward me. I steady myself against the wall, preparing for the moment he finally sees me.
Spider
“I NEED TO HIT THE loo,” I yell to Sebastian over the crowd as he orders another round of drinks from the downstairs bar inside Bono’s. I raise my glass of ginger ale and give him a smirk. Thanks to a damn good therapist, my art, and my father who’s been supportive, I’ve been clean for a while.
We’re celebrating with the crew because next week is our last concert and once the tour is done, Sebastian and I will be jetting off to different locations. Sebastian and company will be heading back to LA, where I used to live but have long since abandoned for a flat in London. It’s less hectic there, and it feels like home.
He gives me a chin nod and I take off, needing some distance from the noise so I can call Father. He’s tried to call me several times today, and this is the first opportunity I’ve had to get back to him.
I call and he tells me the location of my new place in the city. My head spins when he lets me know it’s the same building and the same floor where Rose lives. I’m not prepared yet to see her, but there’s little he can do. He doesn’t have anything else available, and the personal penthouse he owns on Park Avenue is currently being painted. I could get a hotel, but groupies always find a way in, and it’s loud when people walk up and down the halls at all hours of the day and night. I need peace and quiet. I need my own space.
So, I’m stuck in Greenwich Village.
Robert puts Bella on and I chat with her before I go. I tell them both goodbye and hang up the phone. I straighten up, about to head into the loo, when a shadowy female figure catches my eye under the staircase. I narrow my eyes as she ducks her head, a curtain of long auburn hair shadowing her face.
Feeling like I must be blocking the way, I immediately mutter an apology and give her room to pass.
She doesn’t pass.