by Jen Morris
Not that I’ve ever worked in an office. Or had sex in a copy room.
I don’t make a habit of drinking in the middle of the day, but according to Cat, “boozy brunches” are a thing in New York. Basically, you go to brunch and eat as normal, but you also get bottomless cocktails. Bottomless cocktails.
It’s bloody brilliant.
Cat decides that I’m not a proper New Yorker until I’ve had a boozy brunch, so she takes me to a restaurant in Chelsea on Friday.
We meet Mel outside the restaurant and I immediately shrink when she approaches us. I’d forgotten how stunning Mel is. Today she’s wearing a charcoal wool minidress with tan, suede over-the-knee boots, her long dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Next to her I feel like a teenager in my jeans, knitted sweater and ballet flats.
We sit at a tiny table and order. It’s not long before a huge pitcher of margaritas is placed on the table and I pour a generous glass, taking a big swig. Ooh, this is delicious. Another big swig. I could get used to this life.
“So.” Mel fixes her attention on me, margarita in hand. “I’ve read your blog.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “My blog? Really?”
Cat elbows me. “I hope you don’t mind—I showed it to her. It’s so good.”
I give Cat a bewildered smile. I knew she was reading along, but I figured it was just a moral support thing.
“Shit.” She reaches into her purse to retrieve her phone and frowns at the screen. “It’s Hayley at the store. I’d better take this.” She pushes to her feet and wanders down the back of the restaurant, leaning against a wall as she talks.
Mel turns back to me. “Cat’s right, your writing is good. I love the way you explore being single here in New York. It’s hilarious.”
“Oh. Well, uh, thank you.” I’m not sure I was going for “hilarious,” but that’s okay.
“Are you happy being single?”
“Er… yes.” I raise my drink to my lips, ignoring the dart of disappointment I feel.
Mel nods, not saying anything more, and for some reason I feel the urge to ask her about her own love life. A sophisticated, chic New York woman like her could have her pick of men. She probably dates handsome billionaires. Exclusively.
“What about you?” I ask, slurping back my margarita. “Do you like being single?”
She gives me a tight-lipped smile. “It beats being married to an asshole.”
“You were married?”
A shadow falls across her beautiful features. “Years ago,” she says, gazing off into the middle distance. “He cheated on me. Said he was bored with our life together and that I wasn’t enough for him, after I caught him in bed with someone else. I was heartbroken.”
“Wow.” I shake my head in disbelief. “That’s terrible.” I can’t believe that someone would cheat on Mel. She’s the woman you cheat with when you’re bored with your old wife, not the one you’re bored with.
She straightens her shoulders and clasps her perfectly manicured hands together, forcing a stoic expression. “Anyway.” Her lips twist into a secret smile. “I’ve met someone new.”
“Oh!” I lean forward, grinning. “Tell me more.”
“Ah—” Mel’s gaze flicks over my shoulder then back to me as Cat joins us at the table again. “Another time. So, what are your plans for your writing, going forward?”
“Um, I’m not sure.” I take a long sip of my margarita as I turn this question over. I’m chugging along with the blog, despite still hearing nothing from the sites I’ve been contacting. But it’s important that I keep focusing on this single topic, because right now it feels like the only way to keep my head on straight.
After talking to Mum a couple of days ago, I’ve been trying to dial down the Michael fantasies. This wasn’t helped by him texting to ask when I want to go sightseeing again, but somehow I managed to keep my wits about me and reply with a vague, “Sometime soon.”
Instead of daydreaming about Michael, I’ve been throwing myself into my blog to remind myself why I’m choosing to be single right now. And as for my novel, well, I’m just working on that on the side. Mostly.
The problem was that my fantasies were getting out of hand. I wasn’t just writing my novel, I was letting myself imagine Michael with, well, me. So I’ve been rounding out the Annie character, developing her so we are polar opposites. For example, she’s got red hair. And she’s an inch shorter than me. And she’s from a totally different part of New Zealand than I am.
Okay, I’m clutching at straws here. I know. But it is helping, because yesterday I hardly thought about Michael at all, after working on my novel for six straight hours.
A smile sneaks onto my lips as I recall a really juicy scene I wrote between Matthew and Annie, inspired by the ice-skating shoulder injury thing. It starts with her putting the ice-pack on his bare shoulder, but then he turns around and pulls her onto his lap. He tosses the ice-pack aside and unbuttons her dress, a slow grin spreading across his face as he—
“So, what do you think?” Mel is looking at me intently and I feel a spasm of alarm.
Shit. What did she say?
“Er, absolutely.” I nod as if I’d been listening the whole time.
“Great. I think you’re going to like Justin.”
Justin?
“Okay,” I say, taking a big slurp of margarita to hide my confusion.
Mel waves across the restaurant. “Justin, over here.”
I watch as an older man with salt and pepper hair and an earring in each ear strides over and shakes hands with Mel and Cat.
“This is the friend I was telling you about,” Mel says, gesturing to me. “Alex.”
Justin takes a seat at the table, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Alex.”
“You too.”
We pause while Justin flags down a waiter and orders. Meanwhile, I’ve had two margaritas and the room is starting to get fuzzy. And it’s only midday! This is fun.
“So, Alex.” Justin turns to me when our food arrives. “I’m not sure how much Melanie has told you…” he trails off, lifting his eyebrows.
Told me what? Is this her new man? He doesn’t seem her type. Sure, he’s not bad-looking, but I actually thought he was gay.
I glance at Mel, who’s grinning. Even Cat is giving me a sly smile. What am I missing here?
“Uh, well,” I begin, refilling my margarita from the pitcher on the table, stalling for time.
Mel was saying something earlier. What was it? Something about… Nope. I’m drawing a blank.
I study their expectant faces. Maybe they’re engaged, and that’s why she was waiting for Cat to get back to the table. Or maybe she’s pregnant!
But Justin and Mel aren’t holding hands or looking even slightly romantic. In fact, all of Justin’s attention seems to be focused on me.
Oh. Oh.
I think I know what’s going on here. They’re trying to set me up with him. That must be what Mel was going on about earlier. She read my blog about how happy I am being single and could obviously see through the ruse. God, they must really pity me if they feel the need to find a man and ambush me at brunch.
“Well, you know Mel,” I say eventually. I fiddle with my glass, unsure what else to say. Justin is nice enough, but he’s much too old for me—even though I do seem to be attracted to older men lately. Well, one in particular.
Still, I can’t bear to hurt Justin’s feelings, or let Mel and Cat down after they’ve gone to all this trouble. They probably think they’re helping me out and I don’t want to appear ungrateful. I’ll have to let them down easy.
I smile politely. “You, er, seem very nice, Justin.”
“Oh. Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you after everything Mel has told me.”
I nod, sipping my drink, trying to ignore the sense of unease snaking up my spine. How am I going to get out of this?
“So how long have you been writing?” he asks.
Right, so Mel to
ld him I’m a writer. Did she show him my blog too? I wonder if he also found it “hilarious.” I bet they were all sitting around, roaring with laughter over the poor girl who moved to New York after being dumped and now can’t get a man.
Or—oh God—maybe he thinks I’m easy, that I’m desperate for a shag, assuming that since there’s no one else around I’m going to just jump into bed with the first guy to come along. I can’t believe Mel and Cat thought this was a good idea.
“Uh, since I was a teenager.” I shift in my seat, willing the room to stop spinning around me. I shouldn’t have had that third margarita.
His mouth hooks into a devilish smile. “Wow. So you’ve got a lot of experience. Mel told me you were eager.” He winks and my stomach tightens in trepidation.
Are we still talking about writing?
I glance at Mel, starting to feel panicked. This guy is kind of a creep. Why on earth would she think I’d be into this? But she just grins back at me and sweat prickles along my brow.
“I guess you and I have a few things to discuss, then,” Justin continues, leaning towards me. “Shall we go somewhere more private?”
My heart lurches and the room swims out of focus. That’s it. I’m putting a stop to this, right now. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Justin,” I blurt.
His smile disappears. “What?”
I suck in a breath, reaching for a glass of water. This would be a lot easier if I wasn’t three sheets to the wind. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what Mel has told you, but I’m not looking for a man.”
All three of them stare at me, wide-eyed. I don’t know why they’re so shocked.
“I know I write about being single, but I’m not desperate. And I don’t need to be set up.” I glance pointedly at Mel and Cat.
Justin shakes his head, looking bewildered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Alex. We’re offering you a chance to write for us.”
What?
I glance at Mel, her arms folded across her perky chest, her head cocked to one side in mild amusement.
“Write for you?” I echo.
Justin nods.
“About what?”
He gives an odd laugh. “Being single!”
Mel rolls her eyes, leaning forward. “Were you not listening before? I showed your blog to some of our editors and they loved it. They want you to submit a piece for our website. Justin is my boss.”
I place my glass of water down carefully. “What website?”
“Bliss Edition.”
“Wait—” I remember Mel said she works for a women’s website, but not this one. “You work for Bliss Edition?”
Justin nods, mirth skimming across his features.
“And… you want me to write something for you?”
“Yes!” All three of them say in unison.
There’s a burst of excitement in my chest. Bliss Edition is one of the online magazines I’ve been trying to contact for ages!
Mel sits back in her seat, exasperated. Justin exhales and takes a sip from his cocktail, chuckling to himself.
“What was that you were saying about sleeping with Justin?” Cat asks.
“Nothing.” I flap a hand, feeling my face redden. “I can’t believe this! I’ve been wanting to submit something to your site. This is amazing.”
“You have an interesting take on single life here in the city,” Justin says. “We’ve been toying with the idea of creating a specific column on our site to connect with the eighty thousand single women in your age bracket, because we haven’t targeted them from this angle. Your blog is just like the sort of thing we’re looking to create.” He takes a leisurely sip of his drink, as if I’m not holding my breath and hanging on his every word. “And I thought, if you’re interested, you could submit a few sample articles. If we like them, there’s the chance it could lead to a permanent feature.”
My jaw slackens in shock. Holy shit.
“There are a few other people we’re considering,” Justin adds, “but you’re definitely in the running. Whatever you send us will be published on the site whether you get the regular feature or not, so it will be good exposure for your blog. But the sooner you can send me a few pieces the better, because we’re hoping to launch the column in the new year.”
A thrill runs through me. I can’t believe this! What an insane opportunity.
“Okay,” I say breathlessly, beaming. “That’s… thank you so much. I’ll get started right away.”
“Great!” Justin grins. “Send me something exactly like what you’ve been doing; single life here in New York, through a light, upbeat, positive lens. Can you do that?”
I feel my smile slip ever so slightly, but I quickly pin it back in place. Because I can do that, of course I can. Sure, I’ve been feeling a bit less than positive about being single lately, but I’m working on that.
I nod at Justin, raising my glass to his. “Absolutely.”
22
By the time I get back to the apartment I’m practically giddy with excitement. Well, that and the margaritas. What a great day this is turning out to be.
I settle in on my bed with my laptop, ready to start writing my first official piece for Bliss Edition. But I’m so amped up I can’t focus. After everything, I’ve finally got my foot in the door. I know I might not get the permanent column, but if I write my butt off, there’s every chance I could get it. This is the start, the first rung on the ladder to my success. I can just feel it.
I set my laptop aside, unable to sit still. I want to celebrate, to share this news with someone. Cat and Mel already know, of course, and I’ll tell Geoff when I see him at work tomorrow. I’ll call Emily later after she finishes work, and probably text Harriet. And, well, there’s no point in telling my parents, at least not right now.
My gaze lands on Michael’s book on my nightstand and I smile. It’s been a week and half since our day out in the city. We’ve exchanged a couple of texts and that’s been fine, but now I’m itching to see him. I want to share—maybe even celebrate—this small victory with him. I’m sure, as a fellow writer, he’ll be excited for me.
I grab my phone and twirl it in my hand. I could see him, right? I know I’m trying to douse the flames of my crush, but what am I going to do, avoid him forever? I can keep it together enough to see him without losing the plot. It’s fine.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I fire off a text.
Alex: Hey! Are you free sometime soon? I got some cool news about my writing.
I toss my phone casually aside, telling myself I don’t care if he even replies. But as soon as it hits the bed, regret washes through me. What am I doing? Why on earth would he care?
My phone vibrates and I look at it in surprise. He’s texting back already? That can’t be right. But I see it is, and my heart cartwheels at his words, my regret vanishing.
Michael: Good to hear from you! Sure, what are you up to today? I’m just at home working, so stop by if you’re around? Or we could go for coffee?
I glance up at the ceiling above me, as if I’ll somehow be able to see through to his apartment. He’s up there, right now? Would it be too crazy to go up now? There’s a shiver of anticipation through me at the thought and I realize I really, really want to see him. Just to share my news, of course.
I check my appearance in the mirror, adding a fresh coat of mascara and smoothing my hair, then climb the stairs to Michael’s apartment. As I knock, there’s a funny little flutter of nerves in my belly. And when he opens the door and his face breaks into a grin, my heart bounces against my ribs.
“Hey!” he says, stepping aside so I can enter. “Come in.”
“I hope it’s okay I just came up. I figured it was easier than texting back and forth.”
“Of course. It’s a nice surprise.” He closes the door behind me. “Sorry I haven’t been in contact much. I’m just on this deadline with my editor breathing down my neck. It’s been crazy.”
I smile, taken aback. “That’s
okay. How’s it going?”
“Almost done, thank God.”
He heads into the kitchen and despite my best intentions, my eyes help themselves to the view as he reaches into the cabinet. He’s in jeans and a black T-shirt—nothing fancy—but he looks delicious as always. For the briefest moment I consider wandering up behind him and slipping my arms around his waist, pressing my face into the warmth of his back, sliding my hands down to his—
“Do you want a drink or something?” He turns to catch me staring and I blush, quickly glancing away.
Shit. I’ve been here five seconds and I’ve already regressed. Get it together.
“Er, yes, please.”
“Herbal tea okay?”
“Sure.”
I let my gaze wander around his place while he fills the kettle. It’s similar to our place in terms of layout, but bigger. The walls of the living room are dark red, lined with chunky wooden bookshelves, books spilling out everywhere. There’s a worn tan leather sofa in the middle of the room and a wooden dining table between the kitchen and the living room, instead of a breakfast bar like we have. In the spot that I’m pretty sure is right above my bedroom nook, he has a desk with a computer and leather desk chair. I smile to myself, picturing him writing in that spot at night while I’m in my nook below, thinking of him.
I can’t believe I’m in Michael’s home. It feels strangely familiar, like I’ve already been here a hundred times, but then I also want to go around and look at everything, turn every item over, search for more clues about this man and who he is.
“Sorry the place is so messy,” he says, watching me as I take it all in.
“Don’t be silly.” I lean back against the counter with a grin. “It’s the right amount of cozy. Besides, books don’t count as mess.”
He chuckles as he places teabags into the mugs.
“How’s the shoulder?”
“Good. I went to see a physical therapist and he gave me a few exercises to do. It should be fine in a week or so.”
I take the mug of tea from his outstretched hand. “I’m so sorry. I should never have made you—”
“Hey, come on. You didn’t make me do anything. I had a great time out with you.”
