“Give it back,” Harry snaps, interrupting my thoughts as he snatches a puzzle piece from Fletcher.
I look around at my chaotic surroundings, and I know that Tristan doesn’t belong here in my world. He will never belong here. This is as far from his reality as he could possibly be.
My stomach twists at the thought.
I get a vision of the two of us rolling around in the sheets, laughing and making love.
The tenderness between us felt so real and intimate.
Did it mean anything to him at all?
I turn the page of my book . . . obviously not.
“I think that just about wraps it up,” Michael, our lead accountant, says as he looks up from his spreadsheets.
I smile, optimistic for the first time in a while. “That’s great; thank you.”
“As long as we keep gaining traction on the advertising, we should be able to pull out of this.”
“I agree.” I look around at the board members. “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.”