Maybe warmer airwouldbe nice.
I let the idea steep in my mind for a few blocks. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I could wear sunglasses and read a book by the pool, or go for a long walk on the sand and just … be.
“You know what, I think Iwillgo to PCB with you next week.”
“Yes!” Harlee jumps beside me. “I can’t wait for all my friends to meet you. They didn’t think I’d actually be able to make any friends in this city; they seriously think all New Yorkers are jerks. But you’re one of the sweetest people I’ve met.”
“Well, I’ll be happy to prove them wrong.” I give her a smile.
The rest of the afternoon is a blur of contracts, phone calls, and a particularly excruciating conference call with a client who cannot, for the life of him, remember his own email password. I tackle a stack of paperwork, rehearse a speech I’ll need to givein court tomorrow, then force myself to clear out at a semi-reasonable hour.
By the time I emerge from the office, the sun has set. I take the long way home, weaving through the side streets and letting the city swallow me. I have no one waiting for me at my apartment, and the prospect is both freeing and faintly sad.
When I finally reach the lobby of my apartment building, I pause at the bank of mailboxes.I haven’t checked my mail in days.I dig the tiny metal key from the bottom of my purse, turn it in the lock, and open the box. There’s one envelope inside, heavy and thick, the kind you use for greeting cards.
My stomach flips, just for a second.
Surely Cal wouldn’t send me a Valentine’s Day card, right? That would just be weird.
I flip it over, and instantly, a smile spreads across my face. I havenoidea why Weston would be sending me a card, but I tear it open happily. There’s a toilet on the cover, and I giggle as I read it.
Sometimes love stinks, so just flush it!
I open the card to see a poop emoji grinning back at me. It’s the most immature, ridiculous card I haveeverseen.
But it makes my day.
Brittany,
I have no idea why this card was ever put in production, but I hope it puts a smile on your face. I feel like it was only fair for me to return the favorsince you sent me that nice Groundhog Day card. Did he see his shadow? I couldn’t find the results of that.
Anyway, I love that you painted something instead of just replacing the bear. And honestly? I don’t even have to see it to know it’s better than whatever creature was on your wall before. But I’m dying to find out what you made. I’m sure it’s incredible.
I know you live all the way on the other side of the city, but hey, stamps are cheaper than a subway ticket.
Just saying.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Weston
I close the card and tuck it into my bag, smiling. As I look up, the world appears just a little less gray than it was before.
Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t so bad after all.
Chapter Fourteen
Weston
“Just think, you’ve lived in New York City for a decade, and you’ve never seen a Broadway show.” Amy is basically bouncing as she leads the way to our seats. Parker has her hand, because they’re suddenly a thing now—ever since Valentine’s Day.
Good for them. It’s about time he gave into his feelings for her.
I shrug my shoulders at the remark about my lack of getting out there. “I guess I just never saw the point of watching a bunch of people dance around on stage. I’m not big on musicals.”
Amy makes a face, like I just committed a cardinal sin. “But it’sBroadway.”
“I mean, she has a point,” Parker surprisingly agrees. “I’ve lived here my whole life, and evenI’vegone to one. Well . . .” He pauses, giving her a smile. “Two, now.”
