I might regret this in the morning. But if it means seeing Rhiannon again — hearing her laugh, catching that spark in her eyes, then yeah. I’ll take the hit.
Brookhaven, here I come. And I'm finally getting some clarity on what she wants, too.
***
Two hours later, I’ve changed out of my suit and into something more casual.
No, not a costume despite Leo’s suggestion. I don't even own a Halloween costume. But this is still the most casual I’ve ever worn around her unless you count being naked.
Dark, worn denim. A hunter-green knit long sleeve shirt that feels too soft against my skin, like I shouldn’t be allowed to wear something this comfortable while feeling this tense. Brown leather shoes that probably cost more than half the cars in this town. I checked my hair at least a dozen times before leaving—hell, maybe more—and the whole drive here, I’ve had that unfamiliar, restless feeling running through me.
Excitement. Nerves. Thrill.
It’s ridiculous. I’ve never been nervous about a woman before. I’ve neverwantedto impress someone who could probably see right through everything I have to offer—money, charm, the kind of sex that makes most women lose their names. But the sad part is that's all I have to offer.
I don’t have much free time, I’m not always the most empathetic person, I can’t cook for shit, I can't fix cars, I don't come from a blue-collar, working-class family like hers and frankly, I don't even know what she likes but I'm willing to find out.
Because no one else has ever been her.
When I pull into Brookhaven, the whole town looks alive. The streets are lit up with orange string lights, there's kids darting across lawns in costumes that glow or sparkle under the porch lamps. Parents trail behind with drinks in hand, laughing, calling after them.
There’s an energy in the air here that NYC could never possess. It's warm, nostalgic, unfiltered joy. And it hits me harder than I expected.
Growing up in New York with just our dad and a revolving door of nannies, Rosie and I never went trick-or-treating. Never carved pumpkins. Never stood on a porch waiting for someone to drop candy into our bags.
I used to think shit like that didn't matter, that it was all just over-hyped noise and sugar. But now, watching these kids with sticky hands and wide grins, witch hats and bunny ears, something cold twists in my chest.
For all the money I’ve made, all the things I’ve bought, the truth is I’ve missed out onliving.
And that didn't end after my childhood. It's extended into adulthood where I can afford to take vacations, breaks and relax but have chosen not to. And now I don’t want to keep missing out.
By the time I pull into a street parking spot in front of Brookhaven Brews, the place looks like it’s hosting half the town. The parking lot’s overflowing, lights are glowing from the deck that stretches over the lake, and there’s laughter spilling out through the front doors.
Normally, the thought of leaving my car on the street would make me twitch, but tonight, all I can think about is getting to her as quickly as possible and feeling grounded again.
I shove my keys in my pocket and head up the wooden steps. The building looks like a shipwreck someone turned into a bar—aged wood, lanterns strung across the front, the faint smell of beer wafting out to guests. Inside, it’s chaos. Purple and orange lights shimmer across the walls, pumpkin lanterns hang from the rafters, and music thunders from hidden speakers.
Everyone’s talking, laughing and moving. I feel like a ghost who forgot how to belong in a room full of the living. Because I might be around people all day, but those people all want something from me. In here, I'm just another guy, not dressed right and looking to have some fun with a girl who isn’t his…yet.
“Hi, how can I help you?” the hostess asks, voice a little breathless as she looks me up and down. She’s young, twirling a piece of blonde hair around her finger, and way too curious.
“I’m meeting some friends.”
She beams. “Well, if you need help finding them, just let me know. You can head inside and look around.”
I nod and step past her, scanning the crowd. Costumes everywhere. Laughter that feels easy. My shirt’s sticking to my back, and there’s a bead of sweat sliding down my spine as I tug at my collar.
I didn’t think about what would happen when she saw me tonight. I didn’t let myself imagine her expression when she realized I'd sought her out. Part of me hoped she’d be glad I came. The other part—the more realistic one—was preparing to get told to stop stalking her.
Now that I’m here, I’m actuallynervous. Another thing I never am. And then I spot her.
It’s like someone just stole the air out of the room. She’s sitting in a booth near the back with Leo in the middle, his boyfriend beside him. She’s laughing, head tipped back, eyes bright.
And she’s wearing a maid costume. Er,cleaning personnel.
It’s not her actual uniform, the one that somehow manages to look modest and still drive me insane, but a full outcostume. The kind meant to ruin a man. There’s white lace straining against her full chest, a short black skirt that barely exists showing me her thighs and the side of one ass cheek, and a light blue feather duster tossed carelessly on the table. Her hair’s down in soft waves, framing her flushed cheeks.
Wars have been fought over women like her. Sculptures carved, people fired, songs written, legends born. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. A rare kind of beauty you can only find when you’re not looking for it.
