Chapter 23
chapter 23
MAYA
Two days later…
The view from Rainbow Room takes my breath away. Sixty-five stories above Manhattan, the city spreads out beneath us like a blanket of stars, holiday lights still twinkling in every direction. A drizzly winter rain falls softly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, making the city gleam in the golden light from neighboring skyscrapers.
It isn’t as pristine or peaceful as the snow, but it’s beautiful in its own way, and it’s not like we’ll have to go far in the rain after the party’s over. Anthony got us a room at a nearby hotel, a gorgeous suite that made me feel like a princess when we checked in this afternoon.
I can’t wait to climb into that big, canopied bed with him tonight and eat room service breakfast in bed in the morning.
I told Anthony that I’d never had room service before and he immediately called the suite’s private concierge, placing an order for an obscene amount of food. Come tomorrow morning, we’ll be propped up on our giant fluffy pillows, devouring omelets, gourmet French toast, pastries, a smoothie sampler, and a fruit plate that cost more than I used to make in an hour working for my parents.
And then, tomorrow afternoon…we’re moving in together!
Pudge is already at Anthony’s place with the pet sitter, and I called my parents to tell them that I won’t be returning to Maine, after all. I told them that I’m in love, moving in with the man of my dreams, and starting my own rental business.
Were they shocked? Absolutely.
But they weren’t nearly as resistant to the idea as I’d expected them to be.
I’m sure it helped that Anthony was on the video call, too, looking gorgeous and devoted and promising to do everything in his power to keep me safe in the big city. He’d already had a background check on himself delivered via express courier to my parents’ house that morning, a detail that seemed like overkill considering I’d already explained to them the day before that Anthony used to be Weaver’s boss and wasn’t really a “stranger” at all.
Weaver’s a local boy and comes from a well-respected, albeit cold, family. My parents know Weaver, have seen how wonderful and loving he is with Sully, and were happy to take his word for it that Anthony is a solid guy.
I was worried my father, in particular, would think the background check was Anthony protesting too much and might mean he had something to hide. But Dad seemed charmed by the special delivery. He kept referring to the report as we chatted, asking Anthony about his vacation home in Key West and if he enjoyed fly fishing, particularly for tarpon, a giant fish my dad has apparently always dreamed of conquering with his rod and reel.
Anthony, being Anthony, immediately offered to let my parents use the home anytime they liked, so that Dad could finally face off against his fishy nemesis.
After we ended the call, I turned and apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Dad’s inner Silas Mariner would come out on the call. He doesn’t usually invite himself to people’s houses on the first phone date.”
But Anthony only laughed. “Hey, he invited me up to dig for clams and go out on the lobster boat with your cousins. Sounds like a good time.”
I roll my eyes. “It is not a good time. Moon snail infestations are decimating the clam populations around our town. But Dad keeps forgetting that and going out with his bucket anyway. Then, he spends the entire morning getting upset about snails and how fast the world is changing for the worse.”
“Not always for the worse,” Anthony said, leaning in to kiss me.
We’d spent the rest of the afternoon in bed because…why not?
We weren’t closing on the property until this morning anyway.
Thankfully, that went off without a hitch, and as of ten a.m. today, I am officially a property owner! I already have a meeting with an electrician on Monday to talk about replacing the wiring and a crew arriving on Tuesday to work on the fire escape. Best of all, Sydney has a connection with the permit department, who moved the inspection of the attic space to the top of their list.
Assuming she approves my plans, I should be able to bring those units up to code with a relatively small cash investment and a few months of renovation time. Add in a moderate rent increase for the existing tenants and much higher rent prices for the one vacant unit and another coming empty in six weeks, and the financials are suddenly looking much brighter than they did before.
Everything is coming together, all because I decided to stop playing it safe and go after what I wanted for the first time in my life. Even if this magical thing with Anthony goes up in smoke in the New Year, I’ll never regret the time we’ve spent together or all the things I’ve learned in just a week of living boldly.
But I don’t see the magic fading anytime soon, not when every day with this man is somehow better than the last.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Anthony says now, his hand warm on my lower back as we follow the hostess through the elegant space toward our table. Crystal chandeliers cast intimate pools of light over white-clothed tables, and the band plays soft jazz from a small stage near the dance floor, adding to the vintage holiday feel in the restaurant.
“Just thinking about magic.” I lean into him. “And how excited I am to start work at the apartment building. Mark my words, I’m going to be in the black and paying you back in six months. I see great things in the future.”
He grins. “I do, too, but don’t worry about paying me back so fast. I told you, I don’t care when you start making payments. Or… if you make payments at all.”
I wrinkle my nose at him as we reach a corner table with an unobstructed view of both the city and the dance floor, where a bottle of champagne already waits in an ice bucket. Anthony pulls out my chair, and I settle in, smoothing my new dress as I sit. It’s an elegant navy silk number, another gift from Anthony that was waiting for me at the hotel this afternoon.
He really has to stop buying me things, but I can’t deny he has great taste. I would never have considered navy for an evening gown, but the color brings out the blue in my eyes and the pink in my cheeks and looks effortlessly elegant.
“I told you, I don’t want a sugar daddy,” I whisper as the hostess walks away, leaving us to peruse the menu. “This is a loan, one I will pay back as soon as possible before moving on to further New York City real estate domination.”
His eyes glitter with amusement as he studies me across the table.
“What?” I ask, arching a brow. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” he says. “I love it. Your ambition is sexy. And I have no doubt you’re going to make it work. Your plan for turning the lobby into two studio apartments is brilliant. There’s a scarcity of studios in that area. You’ll boost your revenue in a serious way while also filling a need for the community.”
“Thank you.” I sit up straighter in my chair as I pick up my menu, enjoying his praise. I love how supportive we are of each other. It feels so good to know he has my back and that I’ll always have his. “I mean, I’d rather have my own small apartment than have to live with a roommate for the rest of my twenties.” I cast a playful look Anthony’s way over the top of the heavy cardstock. “Though my new roommate isn’t so bad.”
“I’m not your roommate,” he says, his gaze narrowing in playful irritation. “I’m your partner.”
I bite my lip, enjoying that more every time he says it. Anthony said he felt too old to be a “boyfriend,” and while I don’t think he’s even close to old, I agreed he was too distinguished for such an adolescent word.
He’s not a boy; he’s a man. And “partner” is the perfect word to describe what he is to me. What we are to each other.
We’re partners. The help doesn’t just flow my way. We’ve spent hours brainstorming ideas for what comes next for Anthony, too, and he loved my suggestion that he should consider applying for a teaching position at one of the universities in the area. He wants to get back to the pure beauty of math that he once loved so much, and he clearly enjoys mentoring people.
Besides, I have some serious “professor” fantasies that I wouldn’t mind living out when I go visit Anthony at his office after hours…
“You are,” I agree, brushing his leg with my foot beneath the table. “You’re also my lover. Which is also much better than a roommate.”
“Damned straight.” He pours champagne into delicate flutes. “You look beautiful tonight. Maybe I should become a personal shopper. I have great taste in clothes.”
I grin. “You do. Though I think your brilliant mind might get bored with fashion after a while.”
“Especially if I’m not shopping for you,” he agrees. “You’re my fashion muse. I’ve already ordered a few things for the ski trip in February, by the way. All you’ll need to shop for are base layers and socks. I couldn’t get excited about socks.”
“I have base layers and warm socks. I’m a Maine girl,” I say, a wave of giddy excitement rising inside of me again.
We already have plans to take a ski trip with Sydney and Gideon, and to have dinner with Weaver and Sully as soon as they’re back in the city. Two weeks ago, I was reluctantly single and not sure I’d ever lose my virginity, let alone fall in love. Now, I have plans for the future with the man of my dreams. A man who looks at me like I’m all he’s ever wanted and all he’ll ever need.
Maybe it’s crazy to believe this is all going to work out after just seven days, but I do.
I believe in miracles. And in this man.
“Love you,” he says, his eyes soft in the candlelight. “And I really love it when you look at me like that.”
“Like I’m never going to let you go?” I whisper.
He holds my gaze, making my nerve endings prickle with awareness. “Yes.” A slow, wicked smile stretches across his lips as he adds, “And like you can’t wait to be naked and alone with me at the earliest convenience.”
I grin as I murmur behind my glass, “Well, I am a very dirty girl.”
“The dirtiest. And the best.” He lifts his glass toward mine. “To new beginnings.”
“To new beginnings,” I say, clinking my glass to his.
Our waiter arrives just then, and we place our orders for each of the four courses. As he moves away with the menus, the band launches into a jazzy version of “Strangers in the Night” and I smile. “Want to dance?”
He cocks his head. “I thought you didn’t dance, Maya from Maine,” he says, calling back to that first night.
“Do you remember everything I’ve ever said?”
“Everything,” he says. “And yes, I’d love to dance. Any excuse to touch you.”
“Good,” I say, rising from my chair as he stands, holding a hand out my way. “Besides, I happen to think we move very well together.”
“That we do.” He squeezes my hand as we cross the small dance floor.
Once there, he pulls me close. Other couples move around us, but I barely notice them. All I can focus on is Anthony’s hand on my waist, his warm fingers wrapped around mine, and the sexy smell of him teasing at my nose as he guides me around the edge of the floor.
And no, we’re not the most graceful couple, but we’re in sync and in love and enjoying the hell out of ourselves, and that’s all that matters.
“I feel like Cinderella,” I say, grinning up at him.
“I feel like the cranky ogre who lived in the swamp,” Anthony says. “The one who finally woke up and realized there’s more to life than work and going home to his shack alone.”
I arch a brow. “Your ‘shack’ is the biggest, most beautiful apartment I’ve ever seen. It makes Sydney’s look like a hovel.”
“But it’s cold,” he says. “Bare. It needs books and rugs and art. I want to change everything. Together.”
After the song, we return to our table, where the first course awaits—delicately sliced raw scallops with citrus and a hint of chili oil that make me moan in appreciation.
“Should I be jealous of your appetizer?” Anthony asks, his eyes darkening at the sound.
I moan again. “Yes. I think I just cheated on you with shellfish.”
He laughs and we return to discussing ideas for warming up his big, empty apartment, both of us agreeing that we want something more like the Airbnb, a place full of thoughtfully chosen objects that remind us of things we love. As the main course arrives—herb-crusted lamb for him, duck breast for me—we move on to plans for the guest room and a special play structure for Pudge in the hallway beside the library.
And yes, my new home has a library, and yes, I’m appropriately thrilled about it.
“And a kitten friend for Pudge too, maybe?” Anthony asks. “I mean, he’ll get lonely in the house with us gone at work all day. I’ll be home more for a while, but I got an email from Columbia earlier, saying they’d be thrilled for me to fill in for one of their professors when she goes on maternity leave in March.”
“Oh my God! That’s amazing,” I say, beaming at him across the table. “You should have told me.”
“The email arrived this morning, just before we went into the closing, and I got distracted,” he says, a hopeful smile on his face. “But I think I’m going to accept. It’s a great chance to try out teaching for a shorter period of time before committing to something long-term.”
“It’s perfect,” I agree, lifting my glass of pinot noir. “To your new gig. I’m so happy for you.”
We toast again and I promise myself this is my last glass of wine. I don’t want to be too tipsy to enjoy the rest of the night or, God forbid, hung over tomorrow morning. I’m looking forward to breakfast and move-in day way too much for that.
I’m looking forward to everything waiting for us in the future.
As midnight approaches, we move to the window to watch the city celebrate far below. Anthony wraps his arms around me, and I lean back against his chest, struck all over again by how much he feels like home.
“Ten seconds,” he murmurs in my ear. “Do you have your resolution ready?”
“I do,” I say, gazing at him over my shoulder.
“Tell me,” he murmurs.
The countdown begins, voices rising around us, but we’re in our own world. I turn in his arms, wanting to see his face when the year changes.
“I’m going to keep being fearless,” I say. “And keep falling madly in love with you.”
“Ditto,” he says, just as the crowd reaches “one” and shouts of Happy New Year fill the room. He kisses me slow and deep—my first New Year’s kiss ever—making my toes curl in my heels. By the time we part, fireworks are exploding over the city, streaking the sky with color.
We watch the show, oohing and ahhing along with everyone else, letting ourselves be swept up in the magic. The last of the display is ending and we’re about to head back to our table, when my phone buzzes several times in my clutch. I pull it out to see a string of photographs from Elaina of Sully and Weaver embracing at the cat café New Year’s Eve party she throws every year, Sully now sporting a giant ring on her left hand.
I suck in a happy breath. “Oh my God! Weaver proposed! And Sully said yes.” I turn the phone toward Anthony, making him smile.
“Good for them,” he says. “I had a feeling about them from the moment they met.”
I had that feeling, too.
And I have that feeling now, about us. I wouldn’t be surprised to be engaged before next New Year’s Eve. Like Anthony said, when you know, you know, and I already know there’s never going to be anyone as perfect for me as him.
We hit the dance floor again, spinning until my feet start to ache, then return to our table for dessert—a chocolate soufflé that melts on my tongue and sets me to moaning a second time.
“I’m jealous again,” he says with a playful arch of his brow. “Can I please take you home now, before I have to challenge that soufflé to a duel?”
“A duel?” I ask as I lick chocolate from my spoon. “Sounds exciting. But yes, I’m ready to go. We need to see if that bed is as comfortable as it looked.”
“And if that bathtub is big enough for two,” he adds, motioning for the check.
Spoiler alert—the bathtub is totally big enough for two, and as Anthony gives me a very naughty bath I’ll never forget, I’m more excited for the new year than ever.
The future is looking bright.
So bright that I’m not surprised when Sydney texts a short time later to share that she’s pregnant and expecting a baby in July. And that she wants Elaina, me, and Sully to all be godmothers for her little one.
“A baby,” I whisper, cuddling closer to Anthony in the shadowy hotel room after I’ve put my phone on to charge. “I can’t believe it. Time is flying by so fast. It seems like just yesterday that we were staying up all night at a sleepover at Sully’s, daydreaming about the day we’d get our first kisses.”
“How was your first kiss?” Anthony asks.
I shudder. “Horrible. How about you?”
“Also, pretty bad. But it was Bailey Anne, so we laughed about it after and decided we should never be more than good friends.”
I prop up on my arms, studying him in the darkness. “Really? Bailey Anne? How old were you?”
“Twelve,” he says. “And we both thought kissing was overrated. Though she changed her mind about that pretty quickly when she and Charlie Slater started dating the next year.”
“Well, I’m sure Charlie had nothing on you, sexy,” I say. “Though I confess I’m glad Bailey Anne doesn’t like you in that way. I’d like to be her friend. She’s cool.”
“I bet she’d like that too,” he says.
But there’s a strained quality in his voice that makes me ask, “Are you sure? You sound funny. Don’t you think we’d get along?”
He shakes his head slightly. “No, I do. I was just thinking about Sydney and the baby. Her boyfriend’s older, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. She actually briefly dated his son before they got together. It was major drama at the time, but they all worked through it.”
“She isn’t worried about starting a family with someone so much older?” Anthony asks. “Worried that he might not be around for the long haul? I mean, I’d love to have a family, but I’ve kind of come to terms with the fact that it doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me. What about you? Do you want kids someday?”
I cock my head, emotion swelling in my chest as I realize where he’s going with this. “Yes, I would. And I wouldn’t hesitate to try for a family with a slightly older man. Especially if he was a kind, generous person who went out of his way to help teens in trouble, put family first, and loved coming inside me as much as a certain person I know loves coming inside me.”
“Yeah?” he asks, clearly touched. And amused. He’s smiling so hard our teeth bump together as he kisses me. “Speaking of coming inside you,” he mumbles, as he rolls on top of me. “I really do love it.”
As we make love again, slow and sweet, I’m suddenly awash in the certainty that everything is going to work out better than I could have dreamed.
And that the man I love is going to be there every step of the way, helping me dream even bigger.