“That was you?” I ask, grinning. “He complained so hard to start with, and now he’s obsessed. You’ve created a monster.”
“Good,” she replies, looking pleased. “As long as it’s a green monster with a small carbon footprint. Can I open this?”
“That’s the general idea.”
Fuck. I’m suddenly nervous as hell. Was this a stupid idea? She’s not one of us. She’s not from our crazy world. Is it too much to give her something like this?
She unwraps it, and I search her face for signs that she’s pissed. I’m not trying to buy her friendship, and I hope she doesn’t see it like that. As she pulls the Yankees cap out and holds it up before her, though, all I find is surprise and delight. She glances from it to me with those amazing blue eyes of hers.
“This is for me?” she murmurs.
I nod. I’m full of emotions right now. Bursting at the seams.
She frowns. “But this is the one from the auction. This sold for, like, $70,000 didn’t it?”
“Yeah.” It ended up costing me even more than that. The guy who originally bought it for his son played hardball, and I ended up agreeing to an extra ten grand on top. It was stupid. Tyler could have gotten me one for nothing, probably. But I wanted this exact one—I wanted her to know that I noticed her. That I paid attention when she oohed and aahed at it.
I’m still not sure what she thinks. Fuck, this is embarrassing. I make a big deal about recycling my gift bags, and then spend an absurd amount of cash on one little baseball cap? Yeah. Way to go, eco-warrior.
I have money, but I don’t use it unless it’s necessary. I have a trust fund, one that was wisely stitched up a long time ago so that I couldn’t touch it until I got clean. If I had been able to,let’s just say there would have been a lot of wealthy dealers in Manhattan for a few years. And I’m not talking about art.
Now, I live relatively humbly, but I don’t fool myself into thinking that means I know what it’s like to go without. Not many people can buy their pal a hat that costs as much as someone else’s salary. She knows it too, and she’s still looking undecided.
Fuck, I really want her to take that damn hat. In this moment, it feels like the most important thing in the whole fucking world. Like if she accepts this gift, then she accepts me. That we can be friends. That we can move past the pain I caused her.
“I wanted you to have it,” I say, shrugging. “And it’s for charity. That’ll help one of Amber’s kids get a great start in life that they wouldn’t normally have.”
That seems to swing it for her. She grins at me, her whole face transformed. Jesus fuck, she is gorgeous. “Okay. Well, when you put it like that, how could I refuse?”
I take the cap from her hands and pull it down over her unruly hair. Her curls peek out of it in all directions, wild dark corkscrews that won’t ever be tamed.
“How do I look?” she asks, giving me a little spin.
Fuck’s sake.Sexy as hell, that’s how you look, Ellie.What I wouldn’t give to see her wearing nothing but her birthday suit and that damn Yankees cap.
“Great,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t crack. “Just great.”
She’s just agreed to be your pal, you asshole. Stop perving, and start friending.
Chapter 12
Ellie
2 MONTHS LATER
I’m meeting Maddox for lunch, at the little café he loves so much. It’s vegan, which neither of us is, but that does mean there are some delicious and healthy choices on the menu. That doesn’t always compute, but it does here at Sally’s.
I glance at my phone and see that he’s running a little late. That’s not normal for Maddox, as I’ve discovered over the last few months we’ve been hanging out. He’s usually on time, and when he commits to something, he sticks to it. At least some of that is because he doesn’t have a phone. That still seems insane to me, but I’m working on it. I smile indulgently to myself as I sip my matcha. It’s delicious. Cinnamon. The key to making everything taste good, in my opinion.
I browse the menu, even though I’m only doing it to pass the time. Sally will do her thing and bring us what food and drink she thinks will work for us today. It’s a cute place, old-fashioned. A little like being in a time capsule. It’s one of Maddox’s favorite hangouts, along with an old Irish pub in the East Village and an amazing pizza place in Brooklyn that Amelia introduced him to. For a man who doesn’t drink, he spends a lot of time in places that serve alcohol.
I look at my phone again, which is pointless. He can’t message me. It’s okay, I tell myself. I don’t have to be anywhere else right now.
Maddox and I have, just like he suggested, become friends. I didn’t think it would be possible, not with the way he makes me feel. I mean, the man is hot with a capital H. And, come to think of it, a capital O and a capital T as well.
But he’s also a genuinely great guy. We have a lot in common. Shared interests, mutual connections, the same sense of humor. It’s been great getting to know him all over again. We’ve been to gigs and galleries, shopped at farmers markets, strolled in Central Park, and volunteered at the community garden project I’m involved in.
Mainly, though, we’ve justtalked. So so much.
