‘A job here?’
‘Well, why not? How about a life of my own? Doing things I want to do. Things that don’t involve Angel.’
‘Like dating my boss?’
‘Well, why not that too? I mean, what’s so wrong with that? Why shouldn’t I go out with him? Or is a lowly single mother with no college qualifications not good enough for your precious boss?’ She sized Dean up, tilting her head at an angle. ‘Is that what it is? Are you ashamed of me?’
‘That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,’ Dean snapped back.
‘Is it? Because from where I’m standing, all you’ve done is insinuate I’m mentally challenged for wanting more from my lifethan a child. All this “women must stay at home and nurture” is totally outdated and sexist, neither of which I thought you were!’
‘Hayley—’
‘No, I’m not going to apologise for taking this fundraiser job.’ Hayley put her hands on her hips and struck a pose. ‘And I’m not going to feel remotely guilty about accepting a date with one of the world’s more eligible bachelors.’ She nodded. ‘And if you have a problem with any of that then maybe… maybe Angel and I should stay at a hotel.’
The thought that all their dollars would evaporate in a couple of nights if they stayed anywhere but a youth hostel triggered an involuntary swallow. She moved, shifting down the hall before Dean could say anything else.
‘Hayley, where are you going?’
‘Out,’ she responded, not looking back. ‘I’m being branded as the bad mother so I may as well act the part.’ She crashed down the stairs and headed for the front door. Grabbing her coat from the hook on the hall wall, she roughly put it on then flung open the door with full force. She bowled over the threshold, stepping out into the night.
34
WASHINGTON SQUARE PARK, GREENWICH VILLAGE
Hayley’s angry stomps had lessened in ferocity, her pace finally turning into a gentle stroll as she headed towards the arch. The snow falling from the sky was so dense, she could barely see anything in front of her. Focusing on the near-replica of the Arc de Triomphe, she carried on, trying to sort out the mess of her muddled mind.
Dean did have a point. But he had no idea of her discontent at home. He had thought this was just a winter holiday, a chance to get together and catch up. Then she’d dropped the mission to find Michel on him. Taking on a job would sound crazy to someone who didn’t know it was ever on the agenda. And Oliver. Romance of any kind, no matter how tentative the status, that had never crossed her mind either. But now there was adult male company on offer and the owner had to-die-for bone structure and eyes she regularly got lost in, why should she turn it down?
She stopped at the base of the arch, looking up through the snow and admiring its stature. She had been here before. In the early morning, just as the sun rose, she and Michel had stood underneath the arch letting the first rays of light touch their facesafter their night together. At eighteen, it had seemed romantic. Spending the night with a stranger. A good-looking, foreign stranger who painted and took photos for a living. It would be a story to tell to her children. She hadn’t thought it would be a story she would tell the child she’d made that very night. Now when she thought of what she’d done, all she wanted to do was warn Angel about her own stupidity, tell her never to drink or go off with strange men she knew nothing about.
Hayley shivered and drew her coat closer. There was no way she was leaving this city without finding him.
Restaurant Romario, Greenwich Village
Oliver put his lips to his bottle of beer and took a sip of the cool liquid. He’d had the breath taken from him by Tony’s mother and father when he’d come by the restaurant and they’d force-fed him and Tony several dishes from the menu. Protesting seemed rude and, in his opinion, the food was the best Italy had to offer in New York. The restaurant was busy, couples and families dining on the traditional pizza and pasta fare along with several ‘secret recipe’ dishes Mr Romario had concocted over the years. Red and white check cloths, candles set in empty bottles of Pinot Grigio, the wax dripping down in bubbling strands, coating the glass. It all made for an authentic Italian experience. There was festive cheer thrown in too. Silver and gold tinsel hung over the old wooden window frames and a small Christmas tree sat on a table in the corner, a set of porcelain nativity figures in front of it.
‘I have a date,’ Oliver said, turning his attention back to Tony.
‘Sorry, man, I don’t think I heard you right.’ Tony narrowed hiseyes and looked at Oliver with suspicion. ‘Did you say you have a date?’
Oliver nodded, a smile invading his lips. He still hadn’t worked out all the details of the night yet. But he knew he wanted to make it unforgettable. The knowledge of that was killing him as much as exciting him. That was the reason he hadn’t called her yet. He wanted everything to be perfect and he also needed the time to sit with the idea of going out with someone he cared about.
‘As in, with a woman? Someone you’ve met once and arranged to meet again?’ Tony clarified.
‘Kissed too, actually. More than once.’
‘Wow, and did you hold hands?’
Oliver stretched across the table, buffing Tony’s shoulder with his hand. ‘Funny guy.’
Tony laughed, undoing the top button of his shirt and leaning back against the red and white check upholstered booth they were sitting in. ‘So, where did you meet this one?’
‘At the Chinese restaurant, actually.’ He smiled again. ‘When I was escaping from the woman in the red dress.’
‘You dog!’
Oliver was quick to shake his head. ‘No, it wasn’t like that. She bailed me out big time.’
