Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
From the counter, my phone chimes with a text, pulling me from my reverie. While I’m ninety percent certain it’s my mom or sisters making sure I made it all right, I check anyway.
Only it isn’t my mom or my sisters.
GRANT: HEY, JUST CHECKING TO SEE HOW NYC IS TREATING YOU? TODAY’S THE DAY, RIGHT?
It’s been over a week since I ended things. While he’s been giving me space, he’s still holding onto a thread of hope that things are going to work out. He texts every other day or so, mostly touching base, asking how my day was, that sort of thing.
He wants me to know he still cares—as if I could possibly forget.
ME: JUST LANDED A COUPLE OF HOURS AGO. GETTING SETTLED. SO FAR, SO GOOD!
I keep it neutral. Short and sweet. I don’t want to lead him on, but I don’t want to ignore him either. We’re adults. We can act like it. Break ups don’t have to be messy or dramatic. And honestly, I wouldn’t mind staying friends with him. We have fun together. There’s no reason we can’t continue to hike together, catch games, and see live shows at our favorite venues.
GRANT: I’M GOING TO SEND YOU CAINAN’S NUMBER. IF YOU EVER NEED ANYTHING, HIT HIM UP.
A second later, Cainan’s contact card comes through.
I shove my phone into my bag and grab Maya’s keys before changing into tennis shoes and heading out to explore my new neighborhood. No one smiles in passing, not that I expect them to. Everyone’s glued to their phone, staring straight ahead, lost in their own little universe.
I don’t mind.
I’m just here to soak in the scenery, reveling in the fact that there isn’t a cactus to be seen. Not a single javelina demolishing the contents of someone’s garbage. No angry sun beating down.
In many ways, this feels like strolling through a movie set. Every awning, every street light, every front stoop in its perfect place.
Dreamlike almost.
I’m fully engulfed in this moment—until someone calls my name.
“Brie?” It’s a man’s voice. Vaguely familiar.
I stop in my tracks, my gaze fixed on the tall drink of water standing in front of me. “Cainan?”
If I wasn’t so stunned, I could calculate the odds of running into him on this exact street in a city of millions of people.
“This is so crazy—Grant literally just texted me your number. And then I walk outside and run into you.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect that Grant orchestrated this whole thing as a way to keep tabs on me, only it’s not conceivable. I never told him Maya’s name. And even if he did figure it out, her address is private and registered under one of her father’s many LLCs. Besides, Grant would have no way of knowing that I was going to go out for a stroll at this exact moment.
It’s nothing more than a strange coincidence.
“Oh, yeah? He mentioned you were moving here. You staying close by?” he asks.
I point behind me. “A couple blocks that way.”
His full mouth tugs at one side and he points to the building beside us. “Guess that makes us neighbors.”
My stomach trills, and my heart misses a couple of beats—not unlike what happened at brunch the other weekend, when Cainan came to check on me. It was a kind gesture. Surprising too. One I had to force myself not to read into.
He’s nothing more than a nice guy.
“You know of any good coffee shops in the neighborhood?” I ask.
“Was actually on my way to Atlantis over on 65th. Best coffee this side of Midtown and bonus points—it doubles as a bookstore … if you’re into that sort of thing …”
I lift a palm to my heart. “Are you kidding me? Books and coffee are life.”
“Oh, yeah? Favorite author?”
“Toni Morrison. No question. The Bluest Eye is a masterpiece,” I say without pause. “Also, don’t judge me, but I’ve read just about every Stephen King book in existence.”
I wait for him to laugh as some ‘book’ people do when I gush about my love of commercial fiction, but his expression is strangely unreadable.
“Mind if I tag along?” I check my watch. It’s too early for dinner and unpacking my one suitcase will take all of thirty minutes, if that. I’ve got nothing but time on my hands. “Unless you’re headed somewhere …”
He studies me. “Not at all.”
* * *
“You talk to Grant much these days?” I ask when we’re settled at a corner high-top in the back of Atlantis. My hands are wrapped around a warm mug filled with café au lait sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon.
Cainan drinks his coffee black. Straight forward and unfussy.
“He’s called me every day since you broke his heart.” His gaze falls to my wrist for a second.
I think he’s being sarcastic, though I can’t tell for sure. He’s guarded. Slightly unreadable. And given the fact that this is only our fifth time meeting, if I count his accident, we’re still barely more than strangers. Though now that I’ll be living here the next few months, I expect that to change.