You Can Have Manhattan

by P. Dangelico

  “Take care of yourself.”

  Then he walked away, crossed the street, got in his truck without looking back, and drove off. All the while I remained perfectly still on the sidewalk in front of my townhouse letting the tears I didn’t want him to see slide down my face.

  Hands trembling, I opened the envelope and recognized the hard slashes of Scott’s signature. I was officially divorced. Then I recognized something else, a handwritten letter attached.

  * * *

  You were right. I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. I should’ve trusted you not to hurt me and I didn’t. All I can do now is apologize and tell you that I do. With everything. Even my heart.

  I love you, Sunshine.

  Yours.

  S

  I unfolded another document. He’d signed over to me all his shares of Blackstone Holdings.

  One of the most important aspects of the art of negotiating a deal is something which, in my opinion, can’t be taught. Something that operates on instinct but can be improved upon with effort. And that’s timing. When to pause and when to push. When to chase after something you want with abandon, and when to retreat. When not to let it slip through your fingers because you hesitated.

  “Are you sure, Laurel? He’s not at security!” I barked into my phone as I frantically looked around.

  I’d dumped the car at the curb and ran to catch his flight before he left. Unfortunately, today of all days, it looked like my timing was off. “Are you sure he didn’t catch an earlier flight.”

  “I’m pretty sure?” Laurel replied with mediocre conviction at best.

  “Ugh, okay, I’ll call you back.”

  The security line that funneled to all gates was packed. I stood at the back, on my tippy-toes, scanning the crowd for a tall man with dark hair and killer dimples. Dimples that I hadn’t seen in a long time.

  I’d almost lost all hope when I spotted him just beyond the checkpoint, Giants ball cap pulled low over his eyes as he grabbed his designer duffel bag off the security conveyor belt.

  “Scott!”

  Every single person in line, every TSA officer, even the dang TSA dogs turned to examine me. So did Scott. His head lifted and his pointed gaze cut through the crowd and found me, his dark blue eyes softened, letting so much love shine through my chin trembled. They turned me inside out, those eyes, tumbling headfirst into love every single time he looked at me, and I couldn’t remember a single reason not to let him love me back.

  People stepped aside, more than a little curious to see what all the commotion was about as I pushed through the crowd to reach the head of the line.

  “Ma’am, you can’t––” TSA officer chided.

  “Coming through––” Scott spoke over him while I waited anxiously on the other side. He walked through the scanner going the wrong way and the alarm went off.

  “Sir!” TSA was not happy.

  Scott dropped his bag in time to catch me jumping into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist. I tipped his ball cap off his head and planted a loud quick kiss on his lips.

  “Word…I’m saying the word,” I breathlessly told him, all that empty space inside my chest filled with groovy feelings, with peace for the first time in months.

  For a beat, he looked confused. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

  Epilogue

  Two years later…

  “This damn train is gonna be the death of me,” Laurel griped from behind me on her hands and knees, the seams of the bodice of the little black dress she wore getting seriously tested. In the floor-length mirror, I watched her try to straighten the train of my wedding dress.

  “It’s okay if it wrinkles, Laurel. Who cares?”

  We did everything the unconventional way in this family. Like having to get divorced before we could get married. An errant train of a dress? I was not sweating it.

  But Laurel wasn’t having it and I’d learned that arguing with Laurel Robinson was a no-win situation. If she wanted to fuss, I wasn’t going to stop her.

  The Zuhair Murad dress was indeed perfect for the occasion. It was made of silk organza, had a simple strapless bodice that hugged the new curves on my body and fell into a waterfall of fabric. The color a pale tint of lavender. Because, let’s be real, wearing white would’ve been a joke and Scott and I had vowed honesty above all else.

  I slapped on some gloss, flicked the white lily attached to my low bun, and headed for the door of my bedroom. Out back, one hundred of our friends, family, and employees were waiting for me to get the show on the road.

  “You’re gettin’ that train covered with lint!”

  “It’s fine, Laurel, c’mon.”

  As I came down the stairs that led to our backyard, through the wall of windows, I could see the explosion of flowers my soon-to-be mother-in-law had chosen for the occasion. She was dying to organize this wedding and I was more than happy to let her…I’ve been busy with more important things.

  The flowers were nice, but the Tetons were better. Scott had been right. Nothing more beautiful than living art and in that category were the people in the backyard. I’d been looking for somewhere to belong all my life, someone, and I was one of the lucky ones––I’d found my place amongst a patchwork of people that worked for Blackstone and the Lazy S, the friends we’d picked up along the way: Ryan, Jan, the Robinsons, Paul, Miller and baby Soledad Smith, Marjorie, Dev, John and the girls.

  I want to believe that Frank is looking down at all of us saying I told you so. All you needed was a little push in the right direction.

  More like a shove, but I’m not complaining. I’d found my person, the one I wanted to belong to for the rest of my life.

  Along with his shares of Blackstone as part of our divorce, Scott gave me Manhattan. We started dating as soon as the ink was dry on the divorce. Because, really, I wasn’t about to give up on the best surprise of my life. And I wasn’t going to give up running Blackstone either. Frank taught me that.

  “Syd, if you remember anything, remember this, when your gut and your heart agree––take action.”

  And I had. I did. Best decision I ever made. Apart from marrying him the first time.

  There was a lot of travel involved as I ran Blackstone Holdings and he managed the Lazy S. And it wasn’t easy. No question we were often tired and overworked, but in the end neither of us would have asked the other to give up the work we both loved. So back and forth we went.

  And now the time had come for me to pass the torch. I’d been feeling the need to slow down. I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do.

  Hastings had been the second surprise of my life. As my right hand, he’d spearheaded international acquisitions and handled most of the overseas traveling. It was time for him to take over. Blackstone Holdings would undoubtedly prosper with him at the helm. Frank always did have an eye for talent.

  Ready? I signed at the handsomest man in the world as I came down the staircase. It was a slow process, but I was learning. Wearing a dark gray suit and smiling his million dollar smile, Drake looked up at me and placed a hand over his heart.

  Run away with me, he signed back.

  “And risk gettin’ your balls handed to you by Scott?” Laurel stepped between us. “Come on, Casanova, time to give the bride away.”

  As we reached the threshold of the French doors that lead to the backyard, we all went to put our boots on; my shiny new purple Hunters waiting for me by the door.

  We had an unexpected summer rain shower last night and the ground was still wet. I’d stepped in the brown stuff so many times I had no intention of repeating it on my wedding day.

  The music started, Can’t Help Falling In Love by Kina Grannis, and Drake and I, arm in arm, stepped out of the house. All one hundred seated guests turned to watch us. All of them wearing Hunter boots and broad smiles.

  My attention was elsewhere, however. It went straight to the man standing under the arch covered in white lilies holding a fussy one-year-old
who wore a tiny gray suit that matched his dad’s, and a rainbow-colored tie. I still like rainbows. They still make me feel hopeful.

  We didn’t plan for Jack Franklin Blackstone to come so soon, but you can’t exactly call it an accident when neither participant did anything to prevent it from happening.

  If anyone ever tells you that you can’t have both, tell them to keep their opinions to themselves. Running a global company and dealing with the changes to my body and mind was hard, but we managed. Thanks in large part to a partner who supported my decision and helped.

  Regardless, I didn’t have it any harder than any single mother having to make the money she earns at her two jobs stretch to the end of the week and find a way to buy school supplies for all three of her children. Or the divorced dad who struggles to pay rent, child support, and find the extra cash for new hockey equipment. They’ll never get the cover of Forbes or Time but they are every bit the CEOs that I am. Some of us run Fortune 500 companies. Some run a household.

  Smiling at the beautiful man waiting for me, Drake and I made our way down the soggy aisle, my feet sinking a few inches with every step I took, the strange sounds of suction making me giggle.

  Catching sight of me, my son started bouncing in his father’s arms, babbling, and throwing his arms up. With Scott’s attention focused entirely on the bride, it was only a matter of time that one of those animated little fists would eventually connect with his daddy’s eye.

  Scott swore under his breath. The dogs started to bark. And laughing, Ryan took the little bruiser from him. Jack had taken his first steps the other day and to be completely honest we were bummed. He was already a handful when he could only crawl.

  Reaching the gazebo, Drake handed me off to my one-eyed groom. He turned forty last month, and even maimed, he was still the handsomest man I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. I stroked his face and kissed his eye while everyone watched us. Some laughing. Some clapping.

  Because this was us––messy, ungraceful, full of good intentions, but winging it most of the time. Squinting, Scott started to laugh. Holding hands, we glanced over at ’70s Elvis. This dude was our good luck charm. The wedding ceremony wouldn’t have felt right without him.

  “Y’all ready?” Elvis asked once the laughter died down.

  “I was born ready for this,” Scott answered, beating me to it.

  Elvis started his shtick while I stared into the eye of the one I loved, in awe at my good fortune. “Who are you?” I murmured.

  “Your mate, your best friend, your ex-husband,” he smiled broadly, then it slowly melted, “the man madly in love with you, Mrs. Blackstone.”

  A bark drew both our attentions down, to where Romeo stood a few feet away…covered in mud.

  “No, Romeo. No!”

  Acknowledgments

  This story began as a pet project and gained so much steam––these characters taking up so much of my attention––that I felt compelled to push it to the top of my publishing schedule. Regardless, as some of my bookie friends know, it was a rough ride for a while.

  To that end, I have many people to thank for nudging me in the right direction. Nina Grinstead for always making my dreams come true. Chanpreet Singh for you friendship and support. Pavlina, Roxie, and Irene for you friendships, advice, and tireless encouragement. You guys and your friendships are the bright side of this business.

  To all the fabulous bloggers and reviewers who set aside precious time to do this (often thankless) job––I’m in awe of your skill and your dedication to this business. I say it all the time, I’d rather write a novel than a single review. The ability completely escapes me.

  Najla Qamber, the most patient creative person I’ve ever met. Thank you for putting up with me and making my babies look beautiful.

  And lastly, to all the wonderful readers who buy and enjoy my books. You guys make it all worthwhile. Every time I get an email telling me how much you enjoyed my book I remember why I do this.

  * * *

  xo,

  Paola

  About the Author

  P. Dangelico loves romance in all forms, pulp, the NY Jets, and to while away the day at the barn (apparently she does her best thinking shoveling horse poop). What she’s not enamored with is referring to herself in the third person and social media but she’ll give you the links anyway.

  Facebook Reading Group (P. Dangelico’s Mod Squad)

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  Or find me here

  www.pdangelico.com

  Also by P. Dangelico

  Hard To Love Series Contemporary, Single POV

  Wrecking Ball

  Sledgehammer

  Bulldozer

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  It Takes Two Series Contemporary, Dual POV

  Baby Maker

  Tiebreaker

  Risk Taker (coming soon)

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  Malibu University Series NA

  Nothing But Trouble

  Nothing But Wild (coming soon)

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  The Horn Duet Erotic Romance

  A Million Different Ways (Book I)

  A Million Different Ways to Lose You (Book II)