I stifle my laugh at how ridiculous this woman is, but I’m also pleased that horrid machine is now quiet.
“Have a good day,” she says, waving as she walks out of the gym. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
You bet your fine ass you will.
Chapter Two
Savannah
“Is that what you wore to the gym?” Brianne laughs, handing me a steaming mug of coffee. “Your UGGs and pajama shorts?”
“I don’t own any workout clothes. And anyway, I only lasted like ten minutes before I got winded.”
We both crack up laughing.
“Are you going tomorrow?”
“Sure. Why not? New city, new me, right?” Plus, aside from my appointment on Friday to fill out paperwork and get a tour of the office, I have the remainder of the week with nothing to do but get acquainted with my new living arrangements. Monday will be my first official day of work.
Brianne smiles sadly. “There’s nothing wrong with the old you. You’re perfect.”
I want to believe her, I do. But it’s hard to believe you’re perfect when nobody in your life has ever wanted you enough to keep you… to put you first. To show you that you’re their everything. Not my parents, not my foster parents, not my best friend, not even my husband.
Cue pity party for one.
“I guess I just want to figure out who I am.”
“You will. And when I get back, I’ll help you.” She winks playfully. “This city is filled with wealthy, yummy men. Trust me.”
“You aren’t lying,” I agree, remembering that sexy man jogging on the treadmill.
When Brianne quirks a brow, silently asking me to elaborate, I do. “I ran into some hot guy at the gym. I didn’t plan to get a workout and a show, but hey, I’m not complaining. If I have to suffer through a grueling workout, a bit of eye candy makes it worth it.”
She shakes her head and giggles. “There you go! Did you ask him for his number?”
“No! My divorce was finalized like five seconds ago.”
Brianne’s answer to getting over Neil is to get back out there, but I don’t agree. I put myself out there once, gave Neil my all, and ended up husbandless, best-friendless, and homeless. This time around, I’m going to do things differently, starting with focusing on myself.
Brianne takes her cup to the sink, rinses it out, and then comes back with her luggage.
“I hate that I’m leaving you when you just arrived. You sure you don’t want to come? The resort we’re staying at has a ski lodge. You can sit by the fire and drink hot cocoa.”
She and her brother, Lucas, scheduled a trip to Wintergreen to meet with a huge investor to discuss remodeling a ski resort. Since it was planned before I knew I would be moving here, they couldn’t reschedule—and there’s no reason for them to. I’m a big girl and can handle being in the city by myself. Besides, their dad is meeting me Monday morning to walk me through my responsibilities.
“No, I appreciate it, but I’m going to spend this time getting settled… working out.” Maybe, if I’m lucky, that guy will be down there working out again tomorrow.
Brianne laughs. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t overdo it. Wouldn’t want you laid up in bed before you start working.” She rolls her luggage to the front door. “There’s food in the fridge, or you can order from any of the takeout places listed on the board. Those are the good ones. On Friday, take a cab, not the subway. It’s quicker from where we’re located.” Her green eyes scan the area, trying to think of anything else, but before she can convince herself to cancel her trip, I walk over and hug her.
“I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“If you need anything, I’m only a phone call away. I have a meeting this morning, but my flight isn’t scheduled until after lunch.”
“Got it, but I’ll be okay.”
I spend the morning putting my clothes away and organizing everything in my new room and en suite bathroom. Since Brianne used it as a guest room, it was already furnished with beautiful white wood furniture that easily holds my clothes. And what doesn’t fit in the drawers, I hang up in the walk-in closet. I set out the few picture frames I have left that don’t include Neil or Lois and then line up my paperbacks on the bookshelf. I don’t have a whole lot, but they’re all my favorites.
By lunch, I’m going stir-crazy, so instead of making something to eat, I grab a jacket and venture out. The elevator dings, bringing me to the lobby, and I step out, taking in my surroundings. When I arrived yesterday, I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t pay attention to the area, so I have no clue where I am, but I do know this building is high-class. Between the gorgeous fountain, the marble floors, and the sleek front desk with someone behind it twenty-four hours a day, the lobby alone looks like it belongs in an architectural magazine. It’s no wonder Sharp is one of the most sought-after architectural and construction firms.
“Good morning, Miss Cartwright. Can I assist you with anything this morning?” My eyes go wide at the elderly, gray-haired gentleman who apparently knows my name. “I’m Fred, the concierge,” he says with a light chuckle. “I work Monday through Friday, seven a.m. to three thirty p.m. If you need anything during that time, I’m your man.”
I smile, remembering Brianne telling me about Fred, who is like an uncle to her. He came from the previous building they lived in and has worked here for several years.
“Nice to meet you. You can call me Savy. I’m just going to go for a walk to find some food.”
“Very well. Enjoy your hunt.” He winks, making me laugh.
As I’m exiting the building, tightening my hold on my jacket since it’s chilly outside, I run smack into another person. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
When our eyes connect, he glares before a sly smirk graces his lips as his eyes descend over my body. He has a cigarette between his fingers, yet he’s clearly too young to be smoking.
“Damn, you’re hot,” he says with crass only a teenager could pull off.
“One, you don’t tell a woman she’s hot. You tell her she’s beautiful. Two, smoking kills, and women don’t think it’s sexy. It makes you smell and taste like an ashtray, and nobody thinks that’s sexy.” I pluck the cancer stick from his fingers and toss it into the ashtray part of the garbage can. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I let out a huff and head down the street in search of somewhere to eat.
A few seconds later, I hear him yell out for me to wait. “Sorry,” he says, looking at me sheepishly, “for saying you’re hot. It worked on a show I was watching.”
“Apology accepted.” I stop in my place to give him my attention. “How old are you?”
“Uh…” He clears his throat. “Eighteen.”
“Try again,” I say with a laugh.
He sighs and runs his fingers through his shortish yet floppy brown hair. “Fourteen.”
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Yeah, so?” He smirks, and the way his hazel eyes catch with mine, I have no doubt that one day, when he’s older, much older, he’ll be a heartbreaker, but right now, he’s just a teenage wannabe bad boy. I grew up with dozens of them in foster care.