“I, for one, am glad. Otherwise, who would I play human pinball with in the rain?”
“I’m sure you have no trouble finding girls to bang balls with.”
A laugh shot out of me, and her cheeks flushed.
“I didn’t mean …” She sighed. “Actually, I did, but I don’t know why I said it out loud. God, why am I so nervous? I think I’ve talked to more sheep than people in the last couple of years.”
“I’ve heard terrible things about sheep. Deplorable table manners.”
“And filthy minds.” She watched me for a breath. “I feel as if I know you. Is that strange?”
My heart lurched. “Not at all.”
An impatient voice from in front of us snapped, “Next, please.”
We stepped up to the counter and ordered our coffees, receiving them too quickly to speak again. But when we were out of the way and face to face once more, the exit looming, we watched each other, searching for some reason, some logic to whatever lightning had struck us out there in the rain.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Maisie,” she answered. “Are you sure we’ve never met before?”
“There’s no way I’d forget meeting you.” I paused, overcome with sudden boldness. “When can I plan on catching you in the rain again?”
She drew a shallow breath, and a blush smudged her cheeks. “Oh, I …”
My hope sank, the answer obvious. “You have a boyfriend. Of course you do.”
“No. No, it’s not that. I want to say yes, but—”
“Then say yes.”
I waited, watched her, holding my breath through a handful of heartbeats as indecision flickered across her face. But like dawn on the horizon, she smiled.
“All right. Do you have a pen in that soggy briefcase?”
“Better yet, I have one right here.” I slipped a hand into my suit coat to retrieve the pen and slips of paper I always kept there. The one that had been closest to my heart was still dry.
Our fingers brushed when she took it and jotted down her name and phone number, the letters and numbers half connected, soft and slanting.
I took the paper, sliding it into my pocket with the reverence I’d give a treasure map. “Can I call you a cab?”
She glanced outside to the drizzling rain. “I think you’ve done enough. You stopped me from skinning my knee or spraining my ankle, and you bought me a coffee. Maybe I should call you one instead.”
“I’ll take the subway, thanks. Next time you need a coffee, let me know.”
“I think I just might,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the door. But before we reached it, she stopped so suddenly, I almost tripped over her again. “Wait, you haven’t told me your name.”
My smile tilted as I reached around her to open the door. “Marcus.”
Her brows quirked, face cocked like a bird for a beat before she seemed to shake whatever thought she’d had away. “Well, I hope you don’t wait too long to call, considering I get hungry every night around seven.”
“Are you asking me out, Maisie?” I said with an arch smile, one she answered with the prettiest flush of her cheeks.
“Maybe I am, Marcus.”
We stepped out, facing each other under the awning. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want her to go. Because I had the feeling that the second we parted ways, whatever this was would disappear with nothing left to show for but fairy dust.
“Tell me when, and I’m there,” I said, eager to dispel the thought, to prove the notion was crazy and as quickly as possible.
“Is tonight too soon?”
“Absolutely not.” My heart chugged in my rib cage. “I’ll text you when I’m free, and we can firm it up.”
I stepped to the curb to hail a cab, filled with hope and promise. When I opened the door and she slid inside, I held her there for a brief moment with my gaze, trying to shake the feeling that I shouldn’t let her go.
“It was nice running into you, Marcus.”
“Let’s do it again.”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight,” I said, that immovable smile on my lips. I didn’t think I’d smiled so much in years.
And I shut the cab door and waited in the rain until she was gone.
I didn’t feel the chilly drizzle, didn’t notice my soggy jacket or my socks slipping in my oxfords. I didn’t feel the spring chill or mind my pruny hand in my pocket. Didn’t think twice about my scuffed-up briefcase or the meeting I was about to walk into, which would be brutal and pivotal and something I should have been preparing for.
The only thing on my mind was Maisie.
Twenty minutes later, I was mostly dry and trotting out of the station. Every train stop had brought me closer to today’s problems by increment, leaving Maisie and our encounter sadly behind me.
Tonight. You’ll see her tonight.
I’d have already texted her if I’d had service, and now that I was off the train, I had to get to the meeting as quickly as possible. There was only time to answer one text, and that was to let our attorney know I was close.
Ben was an old friend from college and the first person I’d called when our family business was sued by our rivals. And as grateful as I was for his help, I wished I hadn’t had to call on it.
I pushed into the building, the sweeping foyer bustling and echoing with noise and movement as people came in and out. Ben shot off the bench by the door like it’d caught fire when he saw me.
“I’m sorry,” I said as our paths merged on our track to the elevators. “I was held up by the rain.” And my dream girl, I thought with a flurry in my chest.
His brows furrowed with worry. “Well, Bower Bouquets is already upstairs, and they’re not happy to have been kept waiting.”
“I couldn’t give a goddamn about what Evelyn Bower wants,” I snarled as we stepped into the elevator with a stream of people.
The story was long and winding and began and ended with my mother. Mrs. Bennet was known for many things, but being a savvy businesswoman wasn’t one of them. When our family’s flower shop, Longbourne, had fallen into decline, she’d taken on a contract with Bower Bouquets, selling wholesale flowers from our greenhouse to make ends meet.
The second I realized the shop was in trouble, I bought the flower shop and called my siblings home to help me turn things around. And I took on the financial burden, including contracts she’d signed.
All except one.
My mother kept the contract with Bower from us. Until we breached it, I’d had no idea. And when we had been served with a lawsuit, we’d all been unprepared.
Longbourne had been engaged in silent warfare with Bower for generations, but where our business had waned, Bower had flourished. Evelyn loved to make a fool of my mother—I had a feeling it was Evelyn’s part-time job to embarrass her—and this contract was just a new, cruel way for her to do it.
That, and potentially put us out of business for good.
Ben and I didn’t speak as we rode the packed elevator to the eighty-fourth floor, and by the time the doors opened, I was prepared for battle. Bower might have pulled one over on my mother with this ridiculous contract, but those days were done.