I snickered, and Keston glared at me. “What?” I asked him, pretending innocence. “I can’t help it if I’m memorable.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Keston grumbled as Jodi and I laughed at him.
“I’m Bailey, by the way.”
“Jodi, as you already heard. How did you two meet? I know Keston’s not on any of those dating apps.”
“Jo,” Keston warned, his color high, but I was having way too much fun.
“I’m fr—”
“At a club,” Keston cut me off, and I narrowed my eyes at him but kept my mouth shut. Obviously, he wanted to keep our connection a secret.
“Cool. Well, I’ll leave you two alone to finish, and I’ll see ya at the shop, Keston, whenever you get there. Bye, Bailey. Nice to meetcha.”
“Same, Jodi.”
Keston slid out the booth like his ass was on fire. “Hold up, Jodi. I’ll come with you. Bye,” he threw over his shoulder, and I had to admit I was a little annoyed at being left so abruptly.
Through the large windows, I watched Jodi and Keston walk down the block, Jodi chattering away. Knowing Keston worked, I hadn’t expected to spend the day together, but I was hopingmaybe dinner and the promised after-dessert activities would come to fruition.
There you go again. Wishing and hoping for a guy who isn’t just scared of commitment, he runs like hell from it.
I called for the check and paid it, then decided to walk around the neighborhood a little. The East Village had sure changed since I went to school. It always had a grungy vibe, but now little upscale indicators had crept in. Gone were the old T-shirt and bong shops. No more beloved CBGB. Trendy little boutiques and chain bubble tea and coffee shops had replaced almost all of them. I took a walk along the “Mosaic Trail”—St. Mark’s lampposts were covered with bits of broken tile and pottery, creating a mosaic of street names, punk and rock bands, plus the Museum of the American Gangster, famed East Village mobster Lucky Luciano, and the blackout of 2003.
I stopped on Astor Place at the lamppost dedicated to the 9/11 First Responders and located the NYPD tiles. Their sharp edges had worn smooth over the years, but the colors remained vibrant. Tears stung my eyes, recalling how my father had insisted he’d beat the lung disease he’d contracted while working on the pile after the towers collapsed. We’d always planned to visit the museum and his old precinct, only half a mile from where the towers stood, but his health had declined rapidly and he’d became bedridden, slowly withering away.
“Goddammit. I miss you, Dad.” I wiped my eyes and called for a car to take me home. We passed by Keston’s shop, and I imagined him at work, those sharp blue eyes intent on creating his designs. I itched to learn more about him, but he was so damn prickly. I’d have to make do with what he was willing to give me, unless I somehow managed to chip away at the wall he hid behind.
At home I changed clothes and went for a long, sweaty run through the park. It cleared my mind and worked off the pancakes. Once I’d showered and had some lunch, I called Belinda to check on her.
“Hi.” She sounded cautious and apprehensive, which immediately set my antennae buzzing.
“Everything okay? You’re not having any more trouble with Jonas, are you?”
“No, of course not. Jonas isn’t a problem.” Her cheerful answer made no sense until it hit me.
“Lindee, is he there with you?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m good, and me an’ Jonas decided we’re gonna try and work things out.”
Exactly what I’d feared. I ran a hand over my face and blew out several breaths to calm down before I answered her.
“Belinda. You can’t do this. You have a restraining order against him.”
“Oh, I want you to cancel that.”
A deep voice spoke in the background, but I couldn’t make out what was being said.
“Is that Jonas?”
“Yes. We had a long talk, and he promised me he’s changed.”
“He’s changed,” I repeated with a humorless laugh. “This is classic manipulative behavior, can’t you see that? He’s done this so many times. Please don’t fall for it.”
“Jonas told me you’d be mad. You can’t keep treating me like a child, Bailey. I’m a grown woman, and I’m free to make my own decisions.”
This wasn’t the way Belinda spoke. She was simply parroting Jonas’s words.
