Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Heather
I spent the next morning editing the interviews, weaving them into a storyline.
I wasn’t in the mood to work from home, so after dropping off Avery at school I headed to the coffee shop across the street.
It was a great way to escape the solitude of my apartment without going through the hassle of taking the train into Manhattan.
I was pumped about the article, and not just because I’d had three lattes before eleven o’clock.
This was going to be epic; I felt it in my gut.
I had enough experience as a reporter to know when a story was ho-hum or a home run.
Ruby, in particular, had some excellent quotes.
I still regretted not interviewing Ryker.
He was insightful, saw things in a different light than most. I hadn’t met anyone who stood by his family the way he did, who’d made some of the biggest choices in his life by considering others too, not just himself.
I set my laptop on the small coffee table in front of me, and curling in the armchair like a cat, looked out the window.
I wasn’t really watching anything, though.
My mind was too full of Ryker. His smile, that intensity rolling off him in waves, wrapping tight around me.
Just remembering the way he’d kissed me made my lips burn.
Grinning, I went to the counter, buying my fourth latte—this one was decaf.
I just needed a treat to go with my Ryker daydreaming. Yeah, I’d made the executive decision that I wasn’t going to fight thoughts of him. It couldn’t hurt to indulge in a little mental daydream, could it?
Oh, yeah. My decaf nonfat latte really was the perfect choice to indulge in a little Ryker break.
I held the cup tight, glancing out the window with a huge grin.
I loved coming to this coffee shop. It overlooked a small park that was splendid year-round.
In winter it looked like a scene straight out of a fairy tale, with the trees covered in a thin coat of snow or ice.
The rest of the year it was either vibrant green or a mix of yellow, red, and brown in fall.
Right now, it was in the transitioning phase. I only spotted a few patches of green. The clear blue sky was a pretty sight, as were the New Yorkers milling under it. The rhythm here was a little more relaxed than in Manhattan.
I felt like I could breathe better out here. Over the years, I’d thought about moving away from New York to a city with lower living costs. But newspaper jobs were concentrated in the big hubs anyway, and I loved New York to bits.
After downing the last drop of latte, it was time to get back to typing.
I wasn’t working only on the Pearman Fund article.
I had several others in various stages of editing.
Five minutes into rereading what I’d previously written on a global warming article, I caught myself rewinding yesterday’s kiss in my mind’s eye again.
Heather, get yourself together. The Ryker break is over.
Ah, but there was the problem with allowing myself to indulge. Daydreams worked on their own schedule. I just couldn’t shake Ryker off. At least I wasn’t going to see him soon, which meant that in a few days, the aftereffects of the kiss would subside. I was still under his spell, that was all.
I hoped.
Shaking my head, I turned the volume on my headphones higher, focusing on my keyboard.
As the afternoon rolled in, I briefly considered buying another latte in one of my breaks, but eh… no. I seemed to be associating the taste with Ryker today.
I bought a boring soda. There, that couldn’t lead to any daydreaming.
Nope, wrong again. Ryker was front and center in my mind. I caught myself smiling again. It couldn’t be wrong, right? Right? I’d had so few reasons to smile over the past two weeks, and they were all tied to Ryker.
After the soda break, I went on a writing sprint. I’d intended for it to last forty minutes only, but I hit such a great stride that I went on for an hour and a half.
I was just about to gather my things and pick up Avery when my phone rang. Ryker was calling. My palms became sweaty. My fingers and hands became jittery again, just like after the kiss yesterday.
Holy shit! Apparently, I didn’t need to see him in person. Just his name on the screen of my phone made my stomach knot. Squaring my shoulders, I took a deep breath, focusing on the point just above my belly the way I did in Pilates classes. This technique had proved useful in many tough moments.
“Hi,” I greeted, still focusing on my breathing.
“Hi, Heather. Is this a good time?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I need to talk to you.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Say yes to what I’m about to ask.”
I’d thought I was on edge before? Ha! I’d been wrong.
That was nothing compared to the tension spreading through me like a vise.
My pulse ratcheted up. I heard the rhythmic thumping in my ears, felt it against my rib cage.
My trusty breathing technique had gotten me through intense conversations with my editor and difficult interviews.
But it was no match for Ryker.
“That would depend on what you’re asking.”
“You know the March Ballroom Gala is coming up next week.”
“Of course. The entire city knows about it.”
“I want you and Avery to come.”
Wow. I sank lower in the armchair, pressing my palm above that pesky spot on my stomach. It wasn’t tight now anymore… just full of butterflies, which was not helping.
“Aren’t the invitations for donors only?”
“They’re for whoever we want there, Heather. And I want you and Avery there.”
“I thought the invitations were sent out months ago.”
I was buying time. I just didn’t know what to say.
I had to say no.
I wanted to say yes.
Avery would love it. Crap, I couldn’t use that as an excuse… but I almost did. I’d only known this man for two weeks, and yet, I wanted to be around him every chance I got.
“You told me you’d love to come to one.”
“I don’t know anyone in the city who wouldn’t.”
“So why aren’t you saying yes?”
I licked my lips. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll love it.”
“How can you be so sure I’ll come?”
“It’s still one week away. Plenty of time for me to win you over.
And I intend to do just that.” Had his purpose been to make me blush and grin at the same time?
Because he’d succeeded with flying colors.
I’d almost asked how exactly he intended to do that but caught myself in time.
I didn’t need to know everything. In fact, it was better if I didn’t.
Avery and I spent that evening pampering ourselves.
I loved these quiet evenings at home with her, where we got to dream and just be girly.
I’d brought out the nail polish and was currently painting her nails.
Next, I did mine, even applying a coat of glitter (having a kid gave me a perfect excuse to let my inner four-year-old come out and play).
Once we were done, we both danced around the house, waving our nails in an exaggerated manner for the polish to dry (I’d learned the hard way that even with a coat of “quick-dry” you were never safe for at least fifteen minutes).
We blasted music through the living room, being silly and just forgetting about the world, right until the doorbell rang. I stilled. Avery frowned as I turned down the volume. Had it been too loud?
“Is someone coming to visit?” she asked.
“No.”
I just hoped it wasn’t the landlord, coming to tell me that he’d changed his mind and two months of prepaid rent wasn’t enough.
“Why don’t you go to your room while I see who it is?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
In case it was the landlord, I didn’t want Avery to hear us. I hadn’t told her that we might have to move. We’d painted the walls in her room by ourselves, bought the furniture together. It was the first real home we’d both had. I wouldn’t lose it.
I gave myself a mental pep talk, trying to decide on the best course of action in the seconds it took me to reach the door.
It wasn’t my landlord. It was a delivery guy holding an envelope.
“Ms. Heather Prescott?”
“Yes.”
“I have a delivery for you.”
“What is it?”
He cocked a brow. “I don’t know. I’m just delivering. Sign here, please.”
I signed the sheet of paper he held in front of me.
After he left, I closed the door, leaning against it and inspecting the envelope. It didn’t say who the sender was. Everything I’d received from my landlord before had had his contact information scribbled on it.
Come on, Heather. You’re not a chicken. Just open it.
I opened the envelope and found two smaller ones inside. They were golden, and I could swear they smelled like lavender. One had my name on it, one Avery’s. What on earth? I opened the one addressed to me.
Dear Ms. Heather Prescott,
You are hereby cordially invited to the first spring ball. We are celebrating in style on Friday at the March Ballroom Gala. The party starts at 6:00 pm. We hope you will join us and look forward to your RSVP.
Yours,
The Winchester & Caldwell Families
I reread the invitation about five times before it sank in.
Below was an RSVP card with the date of the event on it.
Oh, Ryker. I couldn’t believe he’d actually done this.
I didn’t even know they sent out printed invitations.
I held it closer to my nose, sniffing. It smelled like lavender.
He probably knew my address from the fund’s HR. I’d had to tell them my information.
“Mommy, can I come out?” Avery called.
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“Who was it?”
“The postman. He brought us something. Here, this is for you.”
She snatched the golden envelope I handed her. Her little mouth formed an adorable O when she read her name. I never saw her handle anything with more care than this envelope. She opened it slowly, retrieving the invitation even slower.
“It says here Miss Avery Prescott. I am a miss? Wow.”
I went behind her, reading over her shoulder.
Dear Miss Avery Prescott…