By the end of the day I was well entertained, but the second I went to bed, my mind was restless again. Thank God Monday zoomed by as quickly as Sunday did. Gemma assigned me to shadow Piper and Katrina to learn the ropes. All three of us spent the day visiting with new artists the gallery wants to represent at their studios. You can imagine that it didn’t take long for both of my colleagues to bombard me with questions about my night at Hush. Had I not had that heart-to-heart with Jackie, I most likely would’ve spilled my guts. Until I revealed everything to my roommate, I felt like a pressure cooker ready to burst. Luckily by Monday, I was calmer. I was still conflicted as hell, but at least I didn’t feel the urge to over-share or ask for advice.
My talk with Jackie allowed me to gracefully dodge Piper’s pointed questions. While the three of us were preparing our coffees in the kitchen before hitting the road, Piper attempted to interrogate me. I don’t blame her since I only sent a few quick text messages to thank her for hooking me up with Jeremy. To make it easy on myself, I kept it simple. I told her that her swanky lounge delivered big time. To make sure she doesn’t pry too much, I did mention that I met someone I had fun dancing with. That’s the truth. Partially. I just left out the part that it was two guys and not one. I didn’t divulge Ethan’s name and obviously I kept all the naughty bits to myself.
Katrina seemed to be satisfied with my evasive answers and she didn’t seem interested in probing for more. They both wanted us to make a date so that I can share the story behind my unbelievable relationship with Paul. I promised I would—just not right now.
After a full day of hopping from one cab to another, we headed to a pub near the gallery. It’s Greg’s birthday tonight and it’s tradition for all the employees to gather over drinks. I would’ve stayed longer, but I can’t. After a quick gin and tonic, and once I had extended my best wishes, I rushed back to the apartment. Tonight, I have the place all to myself. Nathan missed Jackie so much that he was able to convince her to spend the night despite the fact that his son Michael is staying with him.
Lady Luck wasn’t on my side three weeks ago when I moved here. I didn’t see Maggie on the day of my departure. The architecture firm she works for sent her out to LA for some special training. The irony of it all is that we left the Big Apple on the same day—she left very early that morning and I caught the red eye that night. We’ve been texting each other like three hundred times a day because it’s so weird to be so out of touch. Her intensive sessions are quite demanding. When you add the fact that there’s an eight-hour difference between London and Los Angeles, we haven’t been connecting like we usually do. Today, she’s finally back in New York. Since she doesn’t have to go to work, we plan on catching up via a video Skype chat at eight o’clock.
I got in a few minutes ago. After quickly peeling out of my work clothes and slipping into my old beat-up sweats and a faded t-shirt, I make my way to the small kitchen with my laptop tucked underneath my arm. I plug the cord into the wall, place the computer on the table, press the start button and wait for it to fire up. Once it does, I double-click on the little Skype icon and run to the fridge to pour myself a glass of white wine before calling Maggie.
“Hmmm, since I didn’t eat at the pub, I could do with a snack,” I say to myself as a craving for chips suddenly kicks in.
I head for the pantry to grab crisps, as the British call them. I’m just about to return to my computer when I hear the distinctive sound of an incoming Skype call. I rush back, already excited. I drop the bag of chips and my glass of wine on the table before sliding into the chair. I accept the call, grinning from ear to ear.
“Maggie,” I cheer when her beaming face comes to view.
“Dee,” she exclaims before bringing her hands up to her mouth.
We’ve barely exchanged two words and she’s already all emotional. “Magnolia Leigh Babcock, don’t you dare get all sappy on me. If you cry, you know I’ll do the same.”
“Can you blame me?” she says, wiping a tear away. “I haven’t seen my best friend in forever. Do you realize this is the longest we’ve been apart since you moved to New York?”
“Not a day has gone by since I set foot on British soil that it doesn’t cross my mind. Sometimes I just want to drop by your apartment to talk or hang out, but I can’t.” From my reflection in the little video chat box, I can see my eyes glazing over with emotion.
“I missed you, Dee.”
“I missed you too, Maggie Pie.”
She scrunches her nose. She hates it when I call her that. I know. I still do it. I like to tease her.
Maggie is more than a cousin and she’s more than a best friend. We were born a month apart—she came first. We both have siblings who are much older than we are. There’s a six-year difference between my brother Connor and I. It’s the same for Maggie and her sister Lydia. We grew up next door to each other in Austin and of course, we went to the same day care, pre-school through high school. We parted ways when it was time for us to go to college. She moved to northern California to pursue a degree in architecture. She then pursued a graduate degree at Cornell University in New York. I also headed out west, but I went south. I moved in with my paternal grandmother, Paige Babcock, in San Diego to study Visual Arts at the University of California. After graduating with honors, I went after my Masters in Fine Arts and Business at the University of California, Berkeley. Once I had my graduate degree under my belt, I went back home to Austin. Maggie took permanent residence in the Big Apple and never looked back.
If that’s not enough similarities, my dad’s older brother Richard married my mom’s older sister Viola. Yup, Maggie’s mom and mine are sisters and our dads are brothers. Yeah, our lives are so intertwined.
We’re still grinning at each other with these silly goofy smiles painted on our faces when Maggie cocks her head to the side and frowns. “You look so different, Dee. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s more than the sexy new fiery hair. It’s like you look so much more womanly or something,” she says, smiling at me. I sent my cousin half a dozen selfies since yesterday morning. She’s fully aware of my transformation.
I’m not ready to tell Maggie about Xander and Ethan yet, so I steer the conversation to safer ground. “Yeah, compared to you I do, I bet. You’re so freaking tanned, it’s ridiculous. I’m as white as a ghost,” I lament.
“That may be so, but your new hair looks killer against your skin. Your blue eyes look like two big-ass aquamarine rings you’d expect to find at Tiffany’s or one of those chichi jewelry shops on Fifth Avenue.” She laughs.
“Thanks,” I say, smoothing my mane. “I so love it and I’m happy I went for it.”
I’ve been pulling my hair back in a bun ever since I got here because I’ve simply not adjusted to London’s frizz-happy weather. Okay, that’s not exactly true. I used to wear my hair exactly the same way in New York as well. I just got caught in a rut—a lot like most of my relationships.
“After so many years of begging and pleading, you finally took the plunge. I’m so proud of you,” she marvels. “Someone is finally living on the edge.” You don’t know the half of it.
“Wiseass.” So far, my wardrobe is the only part of my life where I’m willing to be a little more risqué. For everything else, I tend to walk a straight and narrow line. Well, I guess Saturday night changed that.
“Thank you,” she mocks. “I was hoping you’d go for a big chop,” she says, shaking her short bob.
Maggie made a bold statement six months ago when she booked an appointment with a top hairstylist. When we met for drinks that night, I didn’t recognize her. She went from subdued, straight, long brown hair to a traffic-stopping jet-black bob. Her blue eyes pop so much now, it’s insane. With the tan she’s sporting now, her eyes sparkle even more.
I snort. I know it’s not very elegant, but I can’t help it. “Don’t push it, sister,” I warn. “Gideon removed so much already. I was freaked out at first, but now I’m getting used to it.” My hair used
to weigh a ton. Now that it’s mid-back length, it feel so much lighter.
“Fair enough.” Maggie raises her hand in the air as a sign of surrender. “You look beautiful. That’s all that matters.”
“A little color would’ve done me good,” I lament. “I’m totally jealous of your golden skin tone. The reason I’m so pale is because there’s no such thing as a hot summer here.”
Maggie bursts out laughing. I left New York just as the temperature was creeping up. I thought the weather would be more or less the same here. Was I ever wrong.
“I guess it’s one hundred degrees again today in your part of the world, huh?” she teases.
“Funny.” I squint my eyes as proof that I’m unimpressed by her attempt at making a joke. “You know as well as I do if it were to ever get to those smoldering temperatures, British people would drop like flies. With their cooler temperatures, there’s no way they’d survive the type of heat waves we have in New York or Austin.” I giggle.
“Other than the obvious sub-Saharan weather, what’s new? How’s work? Are you still getting along well with Jackie? How’s your boss? And your co-workers? Is everything as expensive as they say it is? Are you forced to survive on Kraft Dinner? Do they even have KD there? Have you met any cute British boys? Have you made out with any cute British boys?” Maggie is shooting questions at me like a tennis ball machine spits out tennis balls. Did she even take in any air?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold your horses, girl.” I laugh. “Slow down. I can only tackle one of those at a time.”
“Sorry.” She smiles shyly. “I didn’t mean to fire at you like that. There’s just so much for us to talk about.” She clasps her hands together.
“You’re too cute, Maggie. Since you called me—because you were too impatient to wait—why don’t you start? Tell me all about Cali and I’ll spill my guts about life in the royal city.”
“I’d be happy to oblige, ma’am,” she says in an exaggerated Southern accent. She takes a sip of some amber-colored liquid from a tall glass. Knowing her, I’m sure it’s iced tea, since she rarely drinks during the day and it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon in Manhattan.
She puts the glass down and smiles at me. Now that she’s ready, she launches into story mode. Over the next half hour she tells me all about her training and the fun activities she was able to partake in when she wasn’t studying or in class. She also tells me about the bunch of incredible new friends she made. It’s then my turn. I share everything—well, almost—from the sometimes hilarious differences in slang, to how I nearly died when I found Kettle chips at my local grocery store, to how well I get along with Jackie, to my quirky and colorful coworkers, to moody Benjamin, to my fantastic boss and how much I like my new job and my new city. Of course, I avoid talking about Hush and I conveniently omit anything about Xander and Ethan. I need a little more time for that. During the whole time we share our stories, I sip on my wine and munch on my chips while Maggie enjoys her iced tea and some cold pizza. We giggle and laugh between my quirky tales. It’s almost like we’re sitting in her small living room in New York catching up.
At some point, we both reach out for our glasses and take a sip of our beverages at the same time. We crack up. Suddenly Maggie’s expression turns serious and she blinks away. I notice when she folds her lower lip into her mouth. She does that when she’s dying to share something, but still not sure she should. “Magnolia Leigh, are you hiding something from me?”
“I have big news, Dee,” she blurts out.
“Please don’t tell me you’re moving to LA.”
“No, no, no. I love New York way too much to move to Cali permanently.”
“Thank God.” I sweep the back of my hand across my forehead in relief. “Are you getting a promotion at work?” Her career is going so well, I wouldn’t be surprised.
She shakes her head. “It’s not about work.” She averts her eyes again.
“What is it?” She can’t possibly be pregnant. Her mom would kill her right after Grandma Ruby Mae wrings her neck. Her dad wouldn’t be much more forgiving.
“I met someone in LA.”
“You did?” I definitely didn’t expect that.
She nods. “I did. His name is William Russell Duncan.”
“Did you meet him in class?” I ask.
“Sort of.” Huh? “He’s older. He was one of the lecturers at my intense training.”
“Older? By how much?” Maggie usually dates men our age. I think the older she’s ever gone is twenty-seven. Something tells me her new beau isn’t close to that age range.
“He’s thirty-three,” she blurts out.
I widen my eyes. “Wow. You’ve never been with men in their thirties before.” I’m astounded. This guy is nine years older than she is.
“I know. This just feels right, Dee.”
“Does he live in Los Angeles?” I ask.
“No. He’s born and raised in New York. He has an office in Soho, but he lives in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. He’s quick to claim that he could never live anywhere else but here.” She giggles. “He’s a partner in a reputable architectural firm. They have clients from coast to coast. His business partner and him specialize in contemporary commercial spaces.” She’s talking so fast. “Think trendy cafés, upscale restaurants, hip lounges and cool bars. His firm has won several awards. He’s so incredibly talented.” Is she gushing?
“Are you guys officially dating or is it casual?” I’m not very good at the whole casual thing, but Maggie has had a string of very short-term relationships since college. She doesn’t seem to mind. Derek Kinsley is the only guy she dated for a long time. Out of the blue, Derek accepted an investment banker job in Asia without telling her. He figured that a few Skype calls and trips back and forth could sustain their relationship. She was heartbroken. They had been together for over a year and just like that he made a life decision without consulting with her. Knowing Maggie, I doubt she would’ve prevented him from following his dreams, but it would’ve been nice for him to give her a heads up before signing the contract.
Her huge grin is a prelude to her answer. “His class was the last one on the first day of training. I was so impressed by his knowledge.” Yup, she’s gushing. “After his lecture, I stayed back to ask him a few questions. Since everyone else had left, we just sat in the classroom. We animatedly talked, debated and exchanged creative ideas. Four hours later, we were still sitting in that classroom. William suggested we go out for a bite to eat since it was already eight-thirty and neither of us seemed to be able to shut up about architecture. My plan was to go back to the apartment and study, but it never happened that night.” Maggie’s firm rented a really amazing place for her in LA. She shared some photos of her breathtaking view. It’s way cozier than any hotel could ever be. “William and I hung out until one o’clock in the morning on that first night. I couldn’t afford to keep up that pace for the duration of my training or else I was going to flunk miserably. That said, we managed to see each other as often as humanly possible. Since he was commissioned to give one lecture per week for the three-week training and he was conducting a special half-day class during the last week, he was forced to stay in Los Angeles. It allowed us to get to know each other better. By the end of week two, Will declared he wasn’t interested in anything casual. I couldn’t believe it. I know everything was moving fast, but I had fallen head over heels over him. We’ve been inseparable ever since.” She lifts her shoulders. It’s not a shrug. It’s more to say, Voilà.
“Holy hell, Maggie. You never do things halfway.”
“No. I don’t.” She blushes. “There’s something else about Will you should know.”
“He has superpowers?” I joke.
She burst out laughing. “Well, he does in many ways, but that’s the topic for another conversation. Let’s just say he knows how to take good care of me.” Her raised left eyebrow and pursed lips speak volume. Gotcha.
“This guy sounds like a dream. What more is
there to know?” I tease. “Wait,” I say dramatically, lifting my hand up like a traffic cop. “Is he like Jon Snow, the prince that was promised?” I blurt out in reference to Maggie’s and my favorite dramatic series of all time. We never get tired of doing weekend marathons of Game of Thrones where we start from season one and watch our way through all the suspenseful drama—one season at a time.
“Delilah Belle Babcock, God knows how much I’ve missed your sense of humor. Now to answer your question, I don’t think he is, but I promise to table this burning question for discussion the next time I see him… which should be later tonight.” She grins from ear to ear. Her giddiness is unmistakable.
“Man, you really like this guy.”
She nods vehemently. “I do. A lot. Will is different from any man I’ve dated before.”
“Duh, the age gap is a dead giveaway, coz.” I laugh. “Also, I don’t think any of the guys you’ve been with so far have been nearly as successful as your new beau.”
“It’s more than that, Dee. He’s…” She hesitates. “I don’t even know if I’d consider dating a guy like him had I stayed in Austin… not that some women there don’t do it… it’s just that no one in our family has ever gone there… and you know how conservative some of our uncles and aunts can be. Heck, even our Californian fathers can be inflexible on certain topics.” What is she talking about? “I guess there are way fewer barriers for me in New York,” she adds. Now I’m really confused.
That’s a strange statement. “You lost me, Maggie.”
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