I couldn’t focus on the work in front of me. I tried not to think of Sebastian for this reason. Once I started, it was difficult to stop until I fell asleep at night. And hopefully, I didn’t dream of him. Or wake up with my thoughts full of him. The fact that I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the vet didn’t seem to help, either. A clean break had only made my mindmessier.
Boston was full of surprises the way New York had been when I’d first moved there. Bruno and I lived within two blocks of Peters Park and still spent plenty of time outdoors despite winter. Finding the right apartment, getting my furniture from Brooklyn to Boston, hiring a staff and team that worked well together—it wasn’t easy, but no two days were the same, and I’d met so many people in the short time I’d been here. Plus, word-of-mouth was beginning to spread, which indicated I was doing my jobright.
Nothing filled the void Sebastian had left, though. None of it had eased my guilt for pushing him away, even if I’d realized my mistake and tried to bring him back in the end. Every time I was tempted to read his pieces inModern Manor listen to his podcast—each time I picked up the phone tocallhim—I was reminded that I’d already asked him to come with me, and he hadn’t. He had his own demons, but he wouldn’t face them untilhewantedto.
After another forty minutes trying and failing to focus, I packed up my things and headed down the hall. Tonya talked into her earpiece, pointing through the door to my office, mouthing something I didn’tunderstand.
I entered the sunlit room, rounded my desk, and paused. The February issue ofModern Man: A Gentleman’s Guidetopped a pile of mail, but it was about a week early. Aliana Balik clutched a silky red Dior robe over her breasts. The headline read, “Aliana: Mother, Activist, and our First Woman of theYear.”
“Tonya?” I asked. “Did this come in themail?”
After a moment, she rolled to the doorway in her chair and held up a note that read “Delivered bymessenger.”
An early copy, all the way from Dixon Media Tower—from Vance? Justin? Or Sebastian himself? He’d scored Aliana, and on the Valentine’s issue no less. He must’ve been elated. No doubt there’d been much discussion over which adjectives to use for her. She embodied many—glamorous, buxom, sensual. But that didn’t need to be said, because it was all there in her eyes. Show sex, say class. I hoped I’d had a presence in the room when they’d chosenactivistovertemptressandmotherovermodel. From that headline alone, I didn’t have to read her feature to know they’d honored her instead of objectified her as Woman of theYear.
The sultry yet festive cover looked severe against my white lacquer desk. I picked it up, my eyes drifting to what my research had revealed as the next most important real estate—a heading right of themiddle.
“The Bad Boy Issue (It’s Not What YouThink)
by Sebastian Quinn (He’s Not What YouThink)”
I froze. It was rare forModern Manto include a byline on the cover and even more unusual that Sebastian would claim the “bad boy” moniker after what he’d been though.Whywould he do that? I flipped through the glossy pages and stopped on a full-page candid shot of Sebastian in a tux, augmented by asubheader:
Some final advice from a former fake bad boy. And this time, it’sgood.
I turned back to page one of the spread andread.
A question I frequently get as creative director of one of the fastest growing men’s lifestyle magazines is how a man can get a woman to notice him. In the next several pages, I interview some high-profile men who’ve happily traded their bad boy statuses forfamilies.
But that isn’t enough. I took this pervasive issue a step further and offered myself up on the chopping block to get answers for all of you. I’m ready to make the trade myself, so the challenge: couldIwin overmydreamgirl?
Here’s what I learned dating a woman so far out of my league, we weren’t even playing the samesport.
Clutching the magazine open, the next inset quote knocked me off my feet and into mychair.
She’s the stuff of dreams but don’t call her my dream girl. She was as real as itgot.
My breathing sped. I couldn’t help thinking back to the first time he’d spoken to me, how I’d frozen in fear and insecurity that a man of his stature would even look in my direction, much less strike up a conversation withme.
What makes me qualified to give youadvice?
Not much. You might think differently after the headlines that’ve been printed about me, but you’re about to find out I was never a bad boy. I’m just another schmuck trying to get a girl to look in my direction. More on that in a moment—what you need to know now is that I’ve given a lot of advice in my life, and even morebadvice, but there’s no harder way to learn life lessons than by falling forsomeone.
Because I met ‘the one’ while looking for anyone else—and then I losther.
I’m going to tell you how not to make the same mistakes, and we’re starting with thebasics.
You don’t know what womenwant.
I never did, but that’s because the answer is as complex as the womanherself.
My heart beat overtime. The skeptic in me stopped to wonder if this was a ploy to get eyeballs, but the Georgina in me knew the truth. Sebastian was laying his heart on the line—but to whatend?
She’s the stuff of dreams but don’t call her my dream girl. She was as real as it got. A heart and soul girl. A kind person. A woman. At first, I loved to hate her, and then I hated to fall for her, but the truth is I’m made for her. The way gummy bears are made for brainstorming, gentlemen are made of more, and cinnamon is made to sweetenbuns.
With a dry mouth, I consumed every word as Sebastian revealed the truth about his past, his reputation, and even his surname. The final paragraph left my heart in mythroat.
And it’s with this newfound knowledge that I make my departure. My time atModern Manhas been valuable, eye-opening, and illuminating. I’ve become a better man for it in some ways and worse in others. I look forward to new challenges ahead and a clean, honest slate with which to approachthem.
