Chapter 4
Chapter Four
DEVON: THEN
The flight was relatively painless, but there’s only so many things you can do for a little over five hours. I watched a movie and tried to read a magazine, but my leg kept jiggling and I just sat beaming with excitement.
I’m finally going to the conference of my dreams! I’ve wanted to go for years, and truthfully, we couldn’t ever justify the cost. One year, Jade, and my mom tried to get me a ticket as a surprise, but they were sold out instantly. So, getting a free one was just… incredible.
We’d made it to the apartment Ross rented out, perfectly situated in midtown Manhattan. It has two bedrooms, so I didn’t need to worry about finding somewhere to stay.
I really lucked out.
It feels good to relax after sitting in the ridiculous New York traffic, the cab stifled with heat. Then again, it is July. The heat is even worse downtown, like it’s trapped, bouncing between the tall buildings. The AC kicks in, and I head for a shower before the welcome mixer this evening.
Maybe Grant Carey will be there.
I waste no time in stripping off my sticky clothes and showering, wondering who owns such an apartment. The bathroom is tiled in white from the floor to the ceiling, and the lights are a soft purple. It’s relaxing, for sure, but I can’t imagine it’s very practical if you’re shaving.
Not that I care—this is all free.
Thirty minutes later, we’re at the hotel.
“Not bad, huh?” Ross grins as the cab swings onto Sixth Avenue, headlights flashing off the glass towers.
When it stops outside the hotel, I climb out into a blur of noise and motion—horns, voices, the usual madness of the city.
The hotel looms above us, all glass and steel, its revolving doors spinning nonstop with business types and travelers.
I whistle. “It’s pretty neat. I bet it would cost quite a bit to stay here.”
Ross nods. “Yeah, it was five-fifty a night, hence why I got an Air B I suggest you do the same.”
I watch as he disappears into the crowd of people, all clutching green smoothies in tall glasses. Ross is a little older than me and still dreams of running his own business. My stomach twists—is this how it is for everyone here? There must be over four hundred people here tonight.
Am I just another gym-head who wants to make it big?
Competition is fierce in this industry, but I know my shit. What I need to do is find out how to stand out from everyone else, something I’m hoping Grant Carey can help me with.
I head toward a bored-looking server manning a table of green smoothies and take one for myself.
“Good evening,” the server says, like he’s surpassing a yawn. “Grab yourself a name tag and enjoy your evening.”
I scan the name tags, and I can’t help grinning like a madman when I see my name.
I still can’t believe I’m here!
I hold up the glass after I’ve stuck my name tag to my shirt. “What’s in this?”
“Kale, spinach, and coconut water. Well, there are other ingredients, but those are the main ones.”
I nod and drink some more, only to hear a gasp of feminine surprise to my left. I whirl around to see a face I haven’t seen in a long, long time.
“Devon Locke?! Is that really you?”
Mila Harris.
The girl who used to have a degree in flirting with me, much to Jade’s annoyance.
She looks the same as she always did, which is quite a feat when you’re in your thirties.
Her eyes are popping tonight—they were always a light green, but she’s got this black eyeshadow on that really draws your attention.
She’s in a tight cocktail dress, and her body is toned to perfection.
“Mila, how are you?” I ask, holding out a hand for her to shake.
“Oh, come here, silly,” she says with a laugh, throwing her arms around me. I’m enveloped in a sweet smell that reminds me of something Jade wears, and a pang aches in my chest.
I miss her.
Mila releases me but holds me at arm’s length, her eyes trailing over me like I’m something she wants to eat. Then her eyes flicker to my wedding ring, and her eyebrows arch.
“Did you and Jade get married?”
I smile and move back, trying to create a little distance between us. “We did.”
Mila smiles, glancing around me. “Is she here? I’d love to say hello.”
“Nah, she’s not. She’s having a writing weekend.
” I don’t know why I’m making excuses, and suddenly I feel bad for not thinking to ask Jade to come along.
But then again, we would have had to find the money for her flight, not to mention the extra expense of food and drink.
Plus, she’d have been alone while I was at the conference.
No, it didn’t make sense for Jade to be here.
“It’s clearly yours,” Mila comments, nodding at me. “You look great.”
“So do you,” I reply, glancing around us. “I didn’t know you were into fitness.”
Mila laughs and links arms with me as we walk through the crowd. It’s strangely intimate, but I don’t shake her off as I don’t want to be rude.
“I’m obsessed! I did my two-hundred-hour teacher training in Ubud, Bali—a total life-changer. Sunrise meditations, rice fields, the whole cliché… but it worked.”
“Wow,” I respond.
“Yeah, it was amazing! After Bali, I went to Rishikesh for my advanced certification. Completely different energy — less glossy, more…sacred, I guess. Hard work, but worth it.”
I’m nodding, but I’ve never left the States. I wouldn’t have a clue about the energy or vibes in Bali or India.
“So, you’re a yoga teacher?” I ask as we stop by the bar.
She shakes her head, her arm finally leaving mine. “I’m a wellness coach. Let me show you.” She scrolls through her phone before turning the screen toward me.
Her feed glows—ocean views, yoga poses, and smiling faces, all perfectly lit.
“That’s Bali,” she says, tapping one photo. “And this one’s India. The advanced training I did there — it changed everything.”
I lean in, impressed despite myself. It’s hard not to be — the whole thing looks effortless, clean, professional.
“You’ve really built something,” I remark.
“I’m trying to,” she answers with a soft laugh. “But I’ve missed working with people in person. Maybe this is my sign to start over.”
“Maybe.”
“Mila?” A deep voice rumbles from behind me, and I turn.
But suddenly I can’t speak, because it’s fucking Grant Carey. He’s even bigger in real life, but he isn’t looking at me—he’s zeroed in on Mila, his expression unreadable.
“Grant.” Mila turns to greet him, but he’s frozen, his face pale, like he’s seen a ghost.
Odd.
“What are you doing here?” His tone is icy, and you don’t have to be a genius to work out he isn’t happy to see her here.
She smiles. “It’s a fitness conference, isn’t it?”
I don’t miss the way his face pales before she introduces me.
“This is Devon. Devon, meet Grant.”
I reach out my hand, praying he doesn’t notice how damp it is. “I’m a big fan,” I say, falling over my words. “I listen to your podcasts every week without fail—”
Grant mutters something that sounds like, “Be careful, man,” but I can't be sure I heard him correctly. If I did, though…
What does he mean?
“You’re so funny, Grant!” Mila laughs, clinging to me.
Grant glances at me before stepping back into the crowd, disappearing as quickly as he’d come.
What the hell was that? It’s like he couldn’t wait to get away.
“Do you know him?” I question, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.
“We dated, I ended it, and he didn’t take it well.” Mila shrugs. “Between us, he was too full on.”
Strange, he couldn't get away from us fast enough.
“Wow,” I breathe, my brows crashing together. “That guy is the whole reason I’m here!”
Mila’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, exhaling heavily.
And I barely got to speak to him.
I feel miserable, but I can’t let it get me down. There are plenty of other speakers here.
Mila steps closer. “Do you want to get a stronger drink? I know I could use one.”
I hesitate, but she’s already heading to the bar, leaving me alone.
To be fair, I could use a whiskey or something. I’m pissed off. That was a golden opportunity to speak to Grant.
I follow Mila to the bar, just as she turns to me with a wide smile. “What are you having?”
“Uh, just whiskey.”
“On ice?” the bartender asks as she grabs a crystal glass.
“Yeah, please.”
Mila turns to me and winces. “I’m sorry about Grant. He’s a bit…” She pauses, pursing her lips together as she searches for the right word. “Strange…” Her voice trails off.
“You don’t need to apologize. I just wanted to meet the guy and pick his brain; that’s all.” Disappointment laces my voice.
“Oh yeah? What about?” Mila looks at me with interest. “Your own business?”
I shift and scan the room, wondering where Ross is. “Yeah. I’ve been working at the same place for a while now; I want to up my game.”
I shrug, and she grabs her drink, clinking my glass. “To the past and the future!”
I nod and lift the glass to my lips, just as someone claps me on the back.
“There you are!”
It’s Ross.
“Come with me; I want you to meet someone.” He beckons me to follow him, and I glance around to say goodbye to Mila, but she’s gone.
Ah well. Maybe it’s for the best.