New York, Actually

by Sarah Morgan

  He caught her arm. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. “Something doesn’t feel right about this. Why didn’t you tell me the truth? And don’t talk to me about ‘professional distance.’ You’re afraid of something. You’re hiding something. Does this have to do with why you left London? Something to do with the last guy?”

  Her heart was pounding. She didn’t answer and his hand tightened on her arm.

  “Tell me.”

  Why not? He was going to find out anyway. Nothing she did, or said, now was going to change that. “If you type Dr. Kathleen Parker into a search engine, you’ll find the answers you’re looking for.”

  “Kathleen Parker? Any other names I should know?” She pulled away, trying to work out why she felt so sick.

  She’d hurt men before. Men she’d been more deeply involved with. What she and Daniel shared was nothing more than superficial fun, so why did she feel so bad?

  “Kathleen Molly Parker is my full name. These days I use Molly. Once you’ve looked me up, you’ll understand why.” And that would be it. No more secrets. He’d watch that awful, humiliating video on YouTube. He’d see for himself what she was like. Telling him about it was one thing, but witnessing it was another.

  There’s something wrong with you.

  Turning away, she hurried across the terrace to the stairs, her shoes biting into her feet.

  She made it into the elevator and heard his voice.

  “Molly! Molly, wait.”

  There was no way she was waiting.

  She hit the button hard, decisively, and the doors closed just as he reached her.

  She shut her eyes with relief, knowing that once he’d looked her up, he wouldn’t be following her.

  Whatever they’d had, whatever they’d shared, it was over.

  She had no idea why she felt so bad about that.

  Fourteen

  Molly hammered on the door of Mark and Gabe’s apartment.

  Mark answered the door, his distracted look turning to a smile when he saw her. “Molly! I wasn’t expecting you this early. Valentine is glued to a reality dog show on TV. You can’t pull him away now.”

  “I’m in trouble.” Her pulse was racing and her palms were clammy.

  “Trouble?” Mark scanned her face and his smile faded. “What kind of trouble?”

  “He knows.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes and realized her hand was shaking. “I wasn’t expecting to see him until tomorrow, but he showed up at the Met and Brett introduced me as Aggie. Not his fault. He thought he was helping. And he was angry.”

  “Brett was angry?”

  “Daniel. And—I’ve upset him. I always upset people. I warned him, but he didn’t listen. He should have listened. But he didn’t and now I’ve managed to screw up my whole life in one evening. And I was so happy. But that’s how it goes, isn’t it? One minute you’re minding your own business, living your life, building a good career, and the next moment there’s a hashtag and everyone has an opinion, and suddenly you’re that woman who gives advice on relationships even though you have no actual experience of relationships, and truly I never really got that part because you don’t have to travel the world to teach geography, but most of all I didn’t want to hurt him.” And what was he going to think? Maybe she would have told him about the whole Rupert thing eventually, but not right now, not like this. She would have waited until they knew each other better. Until there was less likelihood of him judging her.

  “Whoa, wait a minute, back up. Who have you hurt? Daniel? Why was he at the Met? You look fabulous, by the way. Love the dress. That blue and those crisscross straps— gorgeous.”

  She didn’t care about the dress. She didn’t care about anything except what Daniel was doing right now. What he was going to think of her.

  Valentine came bounding to the door, barking in ecstasy.

  She bent to hug him, soothed by his presence. She stroked his smooth coat and breathed in his familiar doggy smell, overwhelmed by love. “I should have stayed in with you tonight. You’re my best boy. I don’t know why Daniel was at the Met.” She straightened, her head still spinning, the panic eating away at her stomach. “They want him to write a book, or something. What are the chances? And last night was so great, Mark. For the first time in my life I had wild, crazy sex and it was amazing because I wasn’t worrying about love or any of that stuff. It’s the first time I’ve ever broken anything during sex. I thought it was all great, but it isn’t—”

  “Wait. You broke something?” Mark stepped back, scanning her for signs of injury and she gave a wobbly smile.

  “Not me. We knocked over wine. Or beer. I don’t even know. We were kissing and the fridge was open—”

  “You’d better come in before you tell me any more or you’ll shock Mrs. Winchester.” Mark hauled her inside the apartment, closed the door and led her into the living room.

  “I wasn’t planning on giving you details.”

  “If you had sex in a fridge, I want the details. We’ll open some of Gabe’s champagne.”

  “I didn’t say I had sex in a fridge! And I don’t need any more champagne. I’ve already drunk more than enough. Where is Gabe?” Distracted, she glanced around and noticed some of Mark’s drawings scattered over the table. “You’re working?”

  “Gabe has dinner with a client, so I’m catching up.”

  “I’m disturbing you—”

  “There’s nothing I’d like more than to hear about your sex life.”

  “It’s not the sex I want to talk about, it’s the other stuff! I don’t want him to know all that.” She groaned and covered her eyes with her hands. “His phone will probably self-destruct. I should never have gone to that publishing thing, and I never should have gone to bed with him. He said there was no way he’d get hurt because neither of us has feelings, but I’ve hurt him and now I feel so, so bad.”

  “But if neither of you have feelings, how can you have hurt him?”

  “Pride, I guess.”

  “Pride.” Mark gave her a long look. “You think this is about pride?”

  “What else?”

  Mark opened his mouth and closed it again. “I don’t know. Never mind.”

  “I shouldn’t have slept with him. No matter what I do, it always goes wrong. He’ll look me up and discover what everyone else already knows. That when it comes to relationships, I’m lacking.”

  Mark sighed. “Sit down.”

  “Do you think he’s going to blow my cover? Tell people who Aggie is? I don’t want to trend on Twitter twice in a lifetime.”

  “You don’t have a Twitter account.”

  “I’m on Twitter as Aggie. Not as Molly.”

  “It’s a wonder you don’t have an identity crisis. Why does it matter? Why does it matter if you use a pseudonym? That’s your choice. And does it really matter that he knows?”

  “I can’t afford for this to explode again. There are only so many times I can emigrate. And I love New York! I don’t want to have to move to Brazil.”

  “Brazil?”

  “It was a random choice.”

  “I’m confused. Are you worried about the fact that Daniel might blow your cover or the fact that your relationship might be over?”

  “We don’t have a relationship. But whatever it was we had, I liked it.”

  “Maybe it isn’t in the past tense. Maybe it isn’t over.”

  “Of course it’s over. Once they find out, people treat me like someone with a highly infectious disease. And I understand it. Who needs that in their life?”

  Mark nudged her toward the sofa. “Take off those killer heels and relax. You are not moving to Brazil. Who would I cook for? We’ll figure this out.”

  His kindness cut the last threads of her self-control. “If this blows up, if it’s everywhere, you need to pretend you don’t know me. Just because you have the misfortune of being a neighbor, doesn’t mean they’ll find out you’re a friend. You can look blank if they ask you things. Just maybe don�
��t mention that this is the first time in three years you’ve known a man to be in my apartment.”

  “If anyone asks me,” Mark said, “I will tell them to mind their own damn business, and I’ll tell them that because I’m your friend. When a friend is in trouble you keep them close, you don’t throw them overboard. I know your friends let you down badly in the past, but that isn’t going to happen this time. I wouldn’t do that. Nor would Gabe.”

  “Don’t—” she slid off her shoes “—don’t make me emotional. I’m already a wreck.”

  Mark pushed her onto the sofa. “We’re in this friendship for the long haul. I’m going to be godfather to your kids.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “If I’m pregnant on top of everything else, I’m really going to freak out.” She watched as Mark opened the fridge and pulled out the champagne. “I don’t know what we’re celebrating, unless it’s my ability to complicate even an uncomplicated relationship.”

  “There’s no such thing as an uncomplicated relationship. And you went to bed with a guy.” Mark eased the cork out of the bottle and caught the eruption of bubbles in a glass. “That’s something to celebrate.” He handed her champagne.

  She took a sip, feeling the light tang and the tingle of bubbles. “This might be the champagne talking, but you and Gabe are the best friends anyone could have.”

  “You’ve only had two sips of champagne, so I’m going to accept that for the compliment it is.”

  “Two sips on top of the two glasses I drank at the Met.”

  “Keep drinking. I want you to tell me if he’s good in bed.”

  Despite everything, that made her smile.

  “Insanely good.”

  “You haven’t had sex in three years and that’s all the detail you’re giving? You’re cruel and heartless.”

  “I’ve been telling you that for a long time. All this is probably for the best. It was bound to end at some point, so it might as well be now.”

  “Molly—”

  “What? I have serious abandonment issues, I know that. I’m a professional and I’m well able to diagnose my own condition. But it turns out knowing what’s going on doesn’t mean I can fix it.”

  “I don’t see how you could have hurt him. From what you’ve told me, the man’s defenses are more impenetrable than yours, and he went into this with his eyes open.”

  “He told me some things. I told him some things, too, but maybe not as much as he told me.” She bit her lip. “I probably made him feel vulnerable and now he’s defensive.” Yes, that was probably it. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

  “I’m amazed the two of you managed to kiss without first agreeing on terms.”

  Oh, they’d managed it. They’d done more than manage it. They’d knocked it out of the park.

  Remembering sent a slow, sinuous heat sliding into her pelvis. She finished her champagne. “I didn’t expect it to be so good.”

  “So you kissed someone because you thought they would give you a really bad experience? Honey, I love you, but I will never understand you.” Mark topped up her glass again and she groaned and shook her head.

  “Don’t give me any more.”

  “Your apartment is one floor down. I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you if necessary. And if you’ve been labeled a Bad Girl you might as well live up to your reputation.”

  “I feel horrible. How can I feel horrible when I warned him? I shouldn’t feel guilty but I do.”

  “And you’re sure it’s guilt you’re feeling?”

  “What else could it be?”

  Mark hesitated. “Nothing. Look, maybe it’s a good thing that he knows your secret.”

  “It isn’t. That part is scary.”

  “I understand about being scared.” Mark picked up his pencil and reached for a piece of paper. “I spent my teens being scared. And with reason. People can be vicious, as we both know. But hiding has a downside, too. It means you live a small life. A life much smaller than you deserve.”

  “People think I deserve a lot of things I didn’t get. Most of them bad.”

  “The judgment of people you don’t know and don’t care about shouldn’t have an impact on your life. You should never be afraid to be you. Flaws, faults, weaknesses—that’s what makes us human.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It’s not easy. But hiding isn’t easy either.”

  “Where do you get all this courage from?”

  “It comes from having friends who feel like the best type of family.” Mark put his pencil down. “Once you have a group of people who know who you are and love you for it, you realize that what other people think doesn’t matter.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I love Valentine. He doesn’t judge me. And then there’s my dad, of course—”

  “And Gabe and I.” Mark gave a crooked smile. “And I’m pretty sure Mrs. Winchester would go to bat for you, too, if she had to. If Daniel Knight is difficult, or upsets you, we’ll take him between us.”

  She thought of Daniel’s powerful shoulders and razor-sharp intellect. “He wouldn’t be easy to take.” She stood up and instantly felt dizzy. “Shouldn’t have had that last glass. Too much champagne.”

  “No such thing. Here—a gift for you.” He handed her the paper and on it was a sketch of Valentine. He’d captured the dog perfectly. She touched the dog’s heart-shaped nose with the tip of her finger, her heart swelling with love.

  “This is brilliant. I love it so much. Thank you.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Mark’s cheek, feeling decidedly unsteady. “I’m going home, that’s if I can get downstairs without falling over.” She picked up her shoes and walked to the table, examining his sketches. “These are gorgeous. Is this a new idea?”

  “I’m playing with a few themes. Too early to know if it will work.”

  “Is he a hare or a rabbit?”

  “He’s an Arctic Hare. I’m working on a story about camouflage. Hiding from predators.” He gave a humorless smile. “You know all about that.”

  “So do you.” With her free hand she picked up each of the drawings, following the story. “The snow melts and suddenly he’s visible.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Please tell me he doesn’t get eaten. In my emotionally vulnerable state, I might not be able to stand it.”

  “He makes friends and they shelter him until it snows again and he’s safe.”

  “A family of friends. I like that.” She put the drawings down. “You’re so talented. I’m going to frame my picture of Valentine. One day when you’re even more famous than you are now, someone will offer me a fortune for it and I will tell them it isn’t for sale. I should go. Thanks for listening and for getting me drunk enough not to care about my problems.”

  “If he gets in touch, let me know.”

  “He won’t. This is a man who doesn’t want complication. I’m a bigger complication than most people can handle.” She called Valentine and the dog came bounding toward her, tail wagging.

  It didn’t matter what was happening in her life, there was nothing that having a dog didn’t make at least a tiny bit better.

  “Thank goodness dogs can’t read. You love me unconditionally, don’t you? You’re part of my family.” She stooped to hug him and Valentine licked her and wagged his tail so hard he almost took her eye out. “You don’t care that I can’t fall in love.”

  Mark grabbed the dog. “Not being in love isn’t a crime.” He opened the door and guided her through it. “Want me to walk you home?”

  Hearing the word home, Valentine bounded out of the apartment and then paused at the top of the stairs, waiting for her.

  She looked at his adorable face and smiled. “No, I can stumble down one flight of stairs. And if I fall, Valentine will rescue me. But thank you for offering.”

  Giving Mark a quick hug, she followed the dog.

  What was Daniel doing right now? Looking her up, probably. Forming
judgments.

  She walked carefully, shoes dangling from her fingers, her feet silent on the stairs.

  Valentine kept glancing at her, tail wagging, checking she was all right.

  “You’re my best boy,” she said. “My favorite man.”

  As she followed the turn in the stairs, Valentine started barking happily and she saw Daniel leaning against the wall next to her door.

  For a moment she thought she must be hallucinating, but Valentine’s reaction suggested that what she was seeing was real.

  She’d been so sure she would never see him again. She felt a rush of happiness and her heart kicked against her ribs, and then she remembered that he was angry and that he was probably only here because he wanted to finish the conversation she’d walked away from.

  His bow tie dangled around his neck and his eyes glittered. In his hand was his phone. “Well,” he said. “You’re a woman with one hell of a reputation.”

  Fifteen

  Daniel watched as Molly walked toward him. Her feet were bare, her hair hung loose over her shoulders, and her shoes swung from her fingers. The slinky blue dress exposed just enough skin to make a man forget what he was thinking.

  As she drew closer he saw that her eyes were bright and that she wasn’t entirely steady on her feet.

  He eased away from the wall. “Where have you been? I was worried.”

  “Why would you be worried? I’m not your responsibility.” Her words were slightly slurred, her eyes challenging.

  “How much have you drunk?”

  “Nowhere near enough, but I’m working on it so don’t even think about spoiling it for me.”

  “You’re drunk because I upset you?”

  “No, I’m drunk because I left the party before the food was served and because I’ve just drunk half a bottle of champagne. I really, really like champagne.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Not a good time.” She waggled her finger at him. “If I can’t walk in a straight line, I can’t have a serious conversation. I’ll mean things I don’t say. No—” She frowned. “That’s not right. I’ll say things I don’t mean. Yes, that’s it.”