black strappy heels that you hate because they’re too high. Do that smokey eye that you’ve practiced and go have the best date ever.”
“Thank you.”
“Always. I love you. GO!”
He disconnected. Turning on Spotify, the room filled with Post Malone’s invitation for a hundred bands and a bunch of bottles. My hips swayed as I brushed my upgraded replacement eyeshadow palette. Twenty-seven minutes later, I walked out of my sublet, already promising my feet I’d accept a ride home after dinner. It was on the train I realized said ride home would be in the morning. Tonight’s the night.
The entryway at Harry Cipriani’s had a relaxed elegance. Tables had a spotlight in the center while the soft light created an impression of intimacy. A heavenly mix of fresh-baked bread and garlic entwined, making my mouth water. This was the New York I had read about in my romance novels.
“New York has way too many restaurants for anyone to have a favorite.”
“But you have a favorite Chinese place—the takeout the other night?”
“Nope. I told you it was my favorite Chinese. I went to three different restaurants to pick up that spread.”
He chuckled when my mouth fell open. “I wanted to give you the best the city had to offer. You know, since you’re moving here.”
The hostess cleared her throat, and the earlier conversation with Anderson faded into the back of my memories, “May I help you?”
“I’m sorry. I was deep in thought.”
I felt a hand slide down my back. “Do tell.” Anderson flashed his sexiest of grins.
“Actually, I was thinking about you.” I pressed my back into his chest.
“Douglas.” He replied to the hostess who was patiently waiting for our attention, then whispered slowly in my ear. “We’re going to unpack that once we’re alone.” His lips brushed my ear as he spoke, “you smell amazing.”
His hand found its way to the middle of my back, making a shiver traveled through my entire body. Definitely a ride home in the morning.
“Yes, Mr. Douglas. We have your table ready. Follow me, please.” Anderson gestured for me to follow the hostess toward the table. His hand remained on the small of my back as we weaved through the crowded restaurant to the back corner.
“Will this be okay?”
“This is great. Thank you.” I answered, sitting at what appeared to be one of the best tables in the restaurant.
“Someone will be right with you to get your drink orders.” She announced before returning to her station at the front by the door.
“You look beautiful.” Anderson looked over at me.
“Thank you. You might not believe this, but I had no idea what to wear tonight.”
Anderson tilted his head in confusion as he scanned me from head to toe.
“Keep in mind, I only packed enough for a month.”
The frown that appeared surprised me. His eyes wrinkled, and he sat back in his chair. Silence. For the love of Christmas. Say something.
“Good evening, Mr. Douglas. Welcome back.” The waiter looked at me. “Hello. What may I get you to start with this evening?”
“I’ll try a Cool Lemon Breeze.”
“Very good. One of my favorites. And you, Sir?”
“Hendricks and tonic, please.” With a quick nod, the waiter was gone.
“Where were we?” I ran my fingers through my hair and draped it over my left shoulder.
“You were explaining how you only packed for a month in the city. Though, I would recommend you begin thinking in longer terms. Graham gave me your signed contract this morning. I’m not pleased that you requested to work with Alan.”
“Technically, I didn’t ask to work with Alan. I asked to not work with you, and Graham suggested Alan take over my project.”
“I expect that we will have another conversation with Graham and tell him you want to return to working with me.”
My face wrinkled at his words. “Yeah, I’m not going to do that.”
“What? Why?”
His hurt response made me squirm in my seat. “Listen, I went to Graham Morgan’s apartment on a Sunday crying that a guy I like, that works for him, texted me that he didn’t want to talk to me anymore. He was gracious enough to fix the situation for me.”
Anderson tried to speak, but I put my hands up to stop him. “I know that the text was not meant for me, but I reacted, and those reactions have consequences. The last thing I want to do is go back to Graham and say: ‘never mind, we made up and want to work together again’. That’s not professional.”