Chapter Three Lexie #2
Sucking in a deep breath, I push my shoulders back and finger comb my curls. I won’t fall off the edge, my feet are firmly planted. There’s no fucking way I’m going to lose myself—not with how hard I’ve worked to get here. I deserve so much more than that.
Touching up my gloss, I head into the closet to pick out an outfit. A short, soft pink sundress is the perfect choice for a day like today. Look good, feel good.
And, damn, do I look good.
I consider wearing heels, but that might be pushing it, especially with how much I’ll be walking. The weather is nice, the late spring days warming up as we head into the East Coast summer. But I grab a sweater to wear later, just in case. I haven’t quite figured out New York weather.
Taking my purse from the kitchen counter, I head out the front door. When I turn after locking it behind me, I collide with a solid frame. Stumbling back a few steps, I blink up at them.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” the man apologizes, taking his own step back.
His slender build stands at a modest height, but maybe I’ve just been standing next to Callum too much.
Honey blonde waves fall across his forehead over soft green eyes.
Compared to the other two men I’ve met in the last twenty-four hours, this guy looks friendly and relatively harmless.
“It’s okay, I wasn’t paying attention,” I assure him with a smile.
“I’m here for Callum. But I don’t think we’ve met.” His eyes scan me as if to confirm before he makes his introduction. “I’m Enzo.”
“Lexie,” I offer. “I think Callum is in his office.” An awkwardness settles over me as I struggle to figure out what to do next.
Obviously, this introduction was an accident created by timing and coincidence.
Not answering the door is one of Callum’s rules, but I don’t think literally bumping into someone outside counts.
Should I just make an excuse to leave? I open my mouth but my response is cut off when the door opens behind me.
“Enzo, you’re late.” I turn to find Callum’s irritated expression pointed at the newcomer. Enzo, however, doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the glare he’s receiving.
“I was just meeting Lexie,” he replies breezily, making Callum’s focus cut to me. I can practically feel the accusation in his eyes, berating me for breaking the rules.
“I bumped into him on my way out.” The need to explain the situation feels important, though I’m not sure why—maybe so he doesn’t think I’m incapable of following simple instructions. My reputation for not being a complete idiot is on the line here.
Callum’s gaze moves over me as if he just realized I’m dressed in something other than pajamas or workout attire.
“Out where?”
“I’m going to brunch.” Glancing down at the time on my phone I realize I’m running late. “I have someone waiting for me, but it was nice to meet you Enzo.” I flash another friendly smile before stepping around him. His head turns to watch after me along with the man in the doorway.
“You too, Lexie,” Enzo calls after me. He then addresses Callum. “She seems nice, way too nice for you. Who is she?” I press the button for the elevator and wait for it to open.
“She’s the house sitter,” Callum replies simply. “Now get in here, we have shit to talk about.” The elevator doors slide open with a soft ding. I step in and turn around to press the button in time to see Callum stepping aside to let his guest enter the penthouse. My eyes meet his for a moment.
“Alright, alright,” Enzo complies. “Wait, the house sitter? What happened to Tony?” Whatever answer Callum gives is cut off as the elevator doors slide shut, closing in unison with the apartment door.
Walking up to the restaurant, Veronica is unmistakable. Her toned, willowy figure is accentuated by a colorful mini set, the sun kissing her rich, deep brown skin like an umber goddess. The colorful woman looks more suited for the runways in L.A. or Miami than the sidewalk in Manhattan.
“It’s so unfair that God has such clear favorites,” I speak up as I approach, making her turn.
“Stop pretending like you’re not one of them.” Ronnie grins, looking at me with a light squeal of excitement as she pulls me in for a hug. I breathe a laugh as we embrace, feeding off her energy.
“Hey girl, I missed you,” she announces, pulling back to look down at me. We make quite the pair as physical complete opposites. Where I’m short, fair, and round, Veronica Price is tall, dark, and slender. But we share a love of margaritas and karaoke nights.
Ebony and ivory, as we were called around the hospital. And Ronnie made New York Presbyterian so much more fun. “I missed you too.”
It’s the truth, I’ve miss her. Ronnie doesn’t take life too seriously, and her breezy attitude makes heavy situations feel lighter.
It’s the reason she works so well in the emergency room.
When she’s nursing everything remains on the surface, allowing her to leave work at the hospital instead of carrying it home with her.
She doesn’t let it weigh her down, not like I do.
The hostess seats us outside at a table with a cute white umbrella, a beautiful floral arrangement in the center of the circular wrought iron table.
The whole restaurant is aesthetically pleasing—with exposed brick, climbing ivy, and a charming macaroon station.
It’s the perfect place for brunch in the city, the kind of place where pretty people take photos to post on social media.
Maybe I’ll take some photos myself.
The waitress is a friendly teenage girl on a mission, with a frizzy red ponytail and a green apron. She takes our order and speed-walks back inside, skirting around the other servers. Sitting back in the chair, Ronnie’s dark brown eyes move over me in curiosity.
“So tell me all about your life,” she says, crossing one long leg over the other. “You know I love to be in everyone’s business. Just because you left doesn’t mean that saves you.”
“Not much to tell,” I downplay, adjusting the neckline of my dress. “I’m house-sitting a penthouse uptown for some rich businessman for the next few months. The internet is supplying me with a bunch of recipes to try, and I’ve been getting back into drawing.”
“That sounds very relaxing, now I’m getting jealous.”
“It’s been nice, not gonna lie.” My fingers comb my hair back from my face. “So tell me what I’ve missed. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’m sure Dr. Denton has done something asinine.”
“Ugh, he has,” Ronnie says animatedly. “He hooked up with one of the peds nurses, then snubbed her. She had a complete meltdown and went psycho on him in the cafeteria. It was crazy.”
“Damn, I can’t believe I missed that. Next time take a video for me.”
“You know I will. I almost called you right after it happened, but then I got paged to deal with a woman who came in barefoot and ended up peeing in a trashcan.” Ronnie rolls her eyes while I cringe at the mental image she’s painted for me.
“Damn girl, the unit isn’t the same without you.
Everyone is so boring and I have to deal with the crazies by myself. ”
“We handled a lot of crazies together.” I laugh.
The waitress walks up to deliver our food, placing my iced matcha and croissant sandwich in front of me before placing a spinach omelet, fruit salad, and latte in front of Ronnie.
Next comes the pitcher for the bottomless mimosas—the real brunch necessity.
“We need a night out.”
“Hell yeah, we do,” I agree readily. “We need a girls’ night out with karaoke and booze.”
Ronnie is a bit of a party girl, and she definitely knows how to go out and have a good time. She might be a more surface-level friend but that’s exactly what I need right now—light conversation, and distracting fun.
“Fuck, yeah! I’m so down.”
“Okay, yay!” Taking a sip of my iced matcha, the caffeine greets me like a warm hug.
“Where’s the apartment you’re staying in?”
“Columbus Circle.”
“Damn, girl! Central Park West? They don’t just have money, they have money.”
“It’s a really bougie place, definitely out of my price range. I’m getting way too comfortable living in the penthouse, it’s gonna be a slap back to reality when I go back to my place in a few months.”
“You should come see my place in Harlem. I’m sure my one-bedroom makes your place in Oregon look like a palace.”
I can’t argue, I know what apartments are like in this city.
The place I was renting before Tony set me up at Callum’s was more like a closet than a studio apartment—plus it cost an arm and a leg.
My home in Oregon, a comfortable two-bedroom, is more spacious and lacks the company of cockroaches and mutant rats.
Gross.
“So, who is this mystery businessman? Have you met the guy?” Ronnie asks, taking no time to pour the mimosas.
“His name is Callum. He’s in the city for a few days for business, he showed up last night.” I shrug, accepting the champagne glass and taking a generous sip. The bubbly goes down smoothly. “But I don’t know what kind of businessman he is, so my plan is to just stay out of the way.”
“Probably a good idea.” Ronnie drains her glass easily and reaches for a refill. “Leave the stuffy old guys to their business. It gives us more time for champagne.” She lifts her glass towards me with a grin. I chink my glass with her, my head tipping back in a laugh.
“Cheers to that.”
Spending three hours with Ronnie is the perfect little vacation from reality.
Talking pop culture, discussing drama from the hospital, and sharing dating stories, fueled by carbs and mimosas—it’s exactly what I needed.
I’m bummed, and a little buzzed, when it’s time to say goodbye and head back to the penthouse. But it’s time to get back to real life.
Unfortunately.