“Thank you all so much for pulling together and working through the issues. Your advice is so appreciated.”
“We’ll get through this.” Michael smiles. “It’s just a rough patch.”
“I know.” I nod. “Thanks again.”
The group of ten stands, and we chatter as we leave. They wait for me to lock up our office, and we make our way downstairs in the elevator together.
It’s late—nine o’clock on Thursday—and we’ve had our monthly board meeting. The figures are finally turning around. I don’t have to let anyone go this month, and I think we’re actually going to be okay.
“I’ll see you next month?” I ask.
“For sure. Bye.”
“See you. Do you need a lift?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks anyway.”
I always stay in a hotel here in New York on the nights we have a meeting. By the time I got home, I’d have to turn around and come straight back. It’s not worth the two-hour drive.
My phone rings, and the name Gabriel lights up the screen.
“Hi, just finished,” I answer.
“I’m across the street in Luciano’s.”
“Fancy finding Gabriel Ferrara in an Italian restaurant,” I tease.
“Shocking, isn’t it,” he mutters dryly. “I’m coming out now.”
“On my way.” I cross the street and begin making my way down to my trusty friend. Gabriel always meets me for drinks on the nights I stay in New York.
We don’t paint the town red or anything like that, but we have a good time just the same.
I see him walking down toward me, and I smile and kiss his cheek. “Hello, Bella.” He smiles.
“Hello.”
He holds his arm out, and I link it with mine. “The usual?”
“Uh-huh, sounds good.”
We walk the two blocks to our favorite bar. “Oh, did I tell you that Fletcher started an internship?”
“No, you called and told me he wanted to, but I haven’t seen you since.”
“Oh.” I roll my eyes. “In the end, I couldn’t talk him out of it.”
“You know, I think it will be good for him,” he says as we walk arm in arm down the street.
“Hmm, yes, I think so too. Time will tell. I still think he’s too young to be in an office environment.”
“He’s eighteen, Claire.”
“I know he is. I guess he will always be a baby to me.”
He rolls his eyes as we continue walking. He doesn’t know my children personally—only through what I tell him. I purposely haven’t told Gabriel where Fletch is working. It’s no secret how much he hates Miles Media. Ferrara Media and Miles Media are archenemies, and their power struggle is played out in the media.
If he knew that I spent that week with Tristan, he would lose his living shit.
Oh well . . . it doesn’t matter anyway, I guess.
We walk into the bar. It’s busy and bustling with people in suits who have come straight from work. “You grab a table, and I’ll get some drinks,” Gabriel says. “The usual?”
“Yes, please.”
He walks off, and I find a bench seat near the window. I perch up onto the stool and quickly text my mom.
Hi,
Everything okay with you guys?
A reply bounces straight back.
Yes love,
Kids are all in bed.
Goodnight,
xoxox
I text back.
Thanks Mom,
What would I do without you?
Love you
xox
My mom is a godsend. I don’t know what I would do without parents.
I hear a loud burst of laughter from the other side of the bar, and I glance over to see a group of men, and my eyes widen. A man has his back to me and is being animated as he tells a story. Everyone is listening and laughing as he speaks.
Fuck . . . I’d know the back of that man anywhere.
Expensive designer suit, wavy dark hair, broad shoulders, and perfect posture. Tristan Miles.
And I’m here with Gabriel.
Double fuck.
I glance over to the bar to see that Gabriel has just ordered, and the bartender is making our drinks. Oh no . . . too late to leave.
I shuffle my stool around so that my back is to Tristan. Hopefully he won’t see me.
We’ll have one quick drink, and then I’ll sneak out of here.
Eight million people live in New York City; what are the damn chances of being in the same bar as him?
I hear the loud burst of laughter again, and I peer over to see Tristan laughing out loud with the other men.
I do not need this shit tonight; can’t I just have a relaxing night with my friend without him turning up?
Gabriel returns to the table and passes my glass of wine over. “Thanks.” I take it from him a little too