I cocked an eyebrow. “I take it things didn’t end well between you two?”
Meredith collapsed into one of the big, cushy armchairs I kept across from my desk to inspire maximum comfort and truth-telling from my clients. “Well, I was out drinking…”
I nodded. “Mhmm. Go on.”
“I saw her across the bar, and I just thought, you know, maybe this is the right time for us to give it another shot? I have that single about second-chance love almost ready to drop, I haven’t done my big splashy bisexual coming out yet, and she was looking even prettier than I remembered.”
It killed me that so many of my clients looked at their lives this way. Meredith spent all day writing songs about love, but when it came to her own heart, she only thought of other people through the lens of what they offered her career.
I might not go for romances myself, but at least I didn’t trick myself into confusing my career and my heart.
I grabbed my stress ball and gave it a nice squeeze. “And she decided to reward your affections with a black eye?”
“No.” Meredith pouted. “When I tried to kiss her, her new girlfriend punched me.” She pulled out her phone and tossed it on my desk. “And on Instagram Live!”
I sighed as the video played on a loop. “Why were you livestreaming this?”
She rolled her eyes. “For publicity. For my song. Aren’t you paying attention, Leo?”
“First thing first, absolutely no more publicity stunts unless I approve them.” I slid the phone back across the desk. “Second, we need to get a jump start on this story. I’m sending you straight to the conference room.” I smiled warmly but stood to let her know the meeting was over. “Your big coming-out moment has already started, Meredith. Now hurry and go write the rest of it with my team.”
When she left, I fell back down into my chair with a grunt.
What a mess. And with the way Meredith dated, I knew there were countless more messes ahead. With any luck, we could grab the wheel and turn constant bad breakups and melodramatic fights into her brand.
Sex scandals could sell records as easily as they could sink careers.
Thank god for hookup apps, modern dating culture, and happy hour at the gay bar. You would never catch me embarrassing myself in public over some long-forgotten ex or unrequited love. I kept myself to one-night-only engagements, and because of that strict rule, my career had flourished, and Silver Lining was poised to become one of the hottest new PR firms in the country.
Kai might have been right. My hands might have been a little filthy. They’d groped and squeezed and rubbed more men than I could count.
But I’d take filthy hands and a quick, sweaty release over a black eye and melodrama any day of the week.
Chapter Two
River
I steppedout of the airport, my arms heavy with luggage, and struggled to wave for a taxi. I’d barely been back to the United States since I left at twenty, and coming home felt strange and familiar at the same time.
If only I could stop choking back tears long enough to appreciate it.
I threw my bags in the back of the taxi but paused to fetch the small bottle of Stefano’s favorite cologne before I took my seat. The sharp oaky scent was warmed by a lingering splash of citrus, and when I held the little blue bottle beneath my nose, the last six months came flooding back.
Stefano. With his emerald eyes and strong, square jaw. The first time I met him, I was on vacation in Rome, walking around and trying to just enjoy the day. I had found my way to the Septimius Severus Arch, a gigantic and ancient marble archway, and sitting right in front of it was him.
Sitting exactly where Audrey Hepburn sat inRoman Holidaywhen she met Gregory Peck.
I’ll never forget it. My heart leaped. I knew it was a sign. I’d loved classic Hollywood movies for as long as I could remember, and there was Stefano, looking shockingly similar to a young Gregory Peck, waiting for me in an iconic, swoon-worthy spot.
After that, everything fell into place. Stefano swept me off my feet, and instead of returning to London, I stayed right there in Rome with him. We slept late every morning, and after he brought me coffee in a tiny cup with breakfast, we made love into the afternoon. He had a cramped little apartment that opened onto a quiet street, and I could smell the nearby bakery whenever he threw open the windows.
I really thought everything was perfect. Stefano treated me with so much tenderness; I could barely believe how lucky I was. And when he came up with the idea of opening a flower shop together in the town where his family lived, I melted in his hands.
We put all of our savings together and used it to put the down payment on a little shop in the town, and, about a week later, Stefano and I got into a huge fight over religion. By the next morning, I was packing my bags.
I sighed and pressed my cheek to the taxi window as I watched Pittsburgh zoom by. There was a light summer rain falling through the heat, and the city looked strangely beautiful under the eerie gray light.
It’s not like this was my first time losing a love. I’d only gone on vacation to Rome in the first place to get over another heartbreak. After spending two months with a Spanish woman who barely spoke English, running around London together and dancing the nights away, we finally communicated enough to figure out that we didn’t actually have much to say to each other.
