Chapter 6
Hallie
“Honey!” My parents’ faces appeared on my computer screen, far closer than they needed to be as the video call connected. “It’s so good to see you. Does she look a little thin to you, Richard?”
“Mom, I’m fine.”
“Molly, she looks the same as she did last week,” my dad grumbled.
“Have you been eating, sweetie? I know it’s expensive out there in New York.” My mother leaned into the camera, trying to get a better look at me while giving me a better look at the inside of her nostrils. “You know you can always come home if things get too hard.”
“Mom, I promise I’m doing fine.” Our weekly calls always started out much the same. My mother would have some unwarranted concern that would prompt her to suggest me moving home, and my father would grumble in the background, telling my mother that I was fine.
“I liked last week’s ‘Overheard in NYC’, Hallie.” My dad cut my mom off from continuing even further on the rant.
“Thanks, Dad.” Every week, my dad would send me his notes on my tiny column. Giving his thoughts on everything I overheard around the city. Sometimes I toyed with the idea of pitching an “Advice from Richard Woods” section because of how unintentionally funny he was with his feedback.
Just last week he’d equated online dating to a build-your-own boyfriend machine.
“Oh, add that bagel place you reviewed to the list of places you need to take me the next time I come visit,” he added. “That might have been my favorite one you’ve done on that social media page of yours.”
“How’s Roxie, honey?” My mom cut back in. “Are the two of you staying safe when you go out?”
I loved my parents. They were good people, and they meant well.
But the most they’d ever known was the small town in Ohio that I grew up in.
I still remember the confusion on their faces when I told them I wanted to go to NYU instead of one of the state schools in Ohio.
Then again, when I graduated, and I told them I wasn’t moving home.
New York City was a large, unknown danger that they had no concept of despite the tourist excursions they’d taken whenever they visited.
“We’re doing good, Mom. Thanks for asking.”
“Have either of you gone on any dates?” My mom tried to take on an air of nonchalance despite the fact she asked for an update on my dating life at least once a month. It didn’t help that my younger sister was already married with a baby on the way. In my mother’s eyes, I was behind the eight ball.
Dating had never been my strongest suit.
I’d spent most of my twenties focused on my career, and the few relationships I had were either too brief or fizzled out before they could really go anywhere.
My mom never let me forget it—always asking, gently, but persistently, when it would be my turn to bring someone home to meet the family.
“Actually, I’ve been dating more than usual,” I admitted. “It’s for a new series my boss asked me to write.”
“Like a bigger column?” My dad asked excitedly.
“What series are you writing about that requires you to go on dates?” My mom asked at the same time, her voice laced with concern. Honestly, me and her both.
“Yes, a bigger column and it was a request from my boss. I couldn’t really say no, and to be honest, my career depends on it.”
I glanced at them through the screen. They were frozen. My dad’s expression had gone completely blank, while my mom’s face twisted into something dangerously close to skepticism.
“If I write this column, I get a shot at my dream job.”
“The restaurant critic position?” I could always trust my father to be overly excited for every opportunity that came my way.
“Yes, the restaurant critic position.”
Despite my parents’ inability to see the love I had for this city, for the work I wanted to do here, they both looked thoroughly excited for me.
“That’s great, honey.” My mother’s smile was wide and genuine. Growing up, they’d watched me develop my love of food. Two regular parents that tried their best to provide their daughter with as many cultural food experiences as their predominantly white community had in store.
“How’s Kate?” I asked.
With my little sister being pregnant with her first kid, and me being hundreds of miles away, we’d had little time to see each other.
Doctors deemed her pregnancy risky early on, eliminating air travel as an option.
It had been nearly two years since I’d taken the time to fly back to Ohio.
Every time my parents picked me up from the airport and we pulled onto the two-lane road that led into my old hometown, I felt cast into limbo.
No longer the little kid that played on the playground in the town’s only park.
No longer the teenager that had her first kiss in the tiny drive-in movie theater with one screen.
Not even the fledgling adult that packed up all her belongings and left all she knew behind for whatever lay beyond the town’s limits.
The person I’d become no longer fit into the constraints of my hometown. While a part of me would always belong there, that person no longer existed.
Sometimes it was easier to just not try to fit myself back into that old body, the previous version of me that no longer felt right.
“Kate’s doing well. Her doctor will probably make her bedridden starting next week. They said she has preeclampsia. So better safe than sorry.” My mother sighed. “It would be nice for you to visit before the baby arrives.”
“I’ll try my best.” It was the same excuse I used every time they asked. “I will definitely be there after the baby is born.”
My phone buzzed on the table next to my laptop.
Roxie:
Whiskey Locker in an hour?
Hallie:
Wrapping up a call with my parents. I’ll meet you there?
Roxie:
Tell Richard and Molly I said hi :)
Roxie:
Wear something hot tonight. We’re getting you a finance bro one way or another.
“I’ve got to run. Roxie’s waiting for me for … dinner tonight. I’ll talk to you guys next week?” My parents nodded and waved as I disconnected the call.
Roxie was right. After striking out on my first attempt at securing a date for “Love on Wall Street” because of James’s intervention, the only solution was to try again. Show up on a different day and hope that my very attractive arch-nemesis had somewhere else to be tonight.
Tonight called for the leather jacket that was collecting dust in the back of my closet.
I wasn’t about to let the opportunity of a lifetime slip out of my grasp just because I ran into a roadblock.
Even if that roadblock had the warmest blue eyes I’d ever seen, a smile that made my stomach flip, and a stupid dimple.
Did I mention he was really, really tall?
“What about them?” Roxie pointed toward two men casually leaning by the dart board in the far corner of Whiskey Locker.
Both had their suit jackets draped over their chairs, sleeves rolled up to reveal well-toned forearms. They looked nearly identical—perfectly styled hair, clean-shaven, expensive watches, shoes without a single scuff on them. Each of them held an Old Fashioned.
They were just what I needed.
Without allowing enough time for my mind to talk me out of it, I slid off my stool and sauntered across the bar, with Roxie following closely behind.
“You know, I’ve always found people who can play darts so impressive.” I hated how my voice rose in pitch, as if I suddenly shared matcha latte girl’s personality. “Every time I even attempt to play, I never get a single one on the board.”
The only difference between the men standing in front of us was their hair color—one dark and the other fair.
Except for that, from their suits to their watches, their shoes to their clean shaves, they were pretty much interchangeable.
The blond guy had posed to throw his dart, but dropped his hand and gestured for me to step forward.
“I can help you, if you’d like.” He smiled, a row of gleaming white teeth shining back at me. “I’m Graham.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Graham. I’m Hallie,” I told him as I stepped in front of him to the white line on the ground.
Graham was average build, average height, without a single blemish on his face.
Everything about him was average . But that didn’t stop me from ever so slightly enjoying the feel of him behind me as he drew close.
All it took Roxie was a sly look as she tucked her hair behind her ear for Graham’s friend to pull a chair out for her and slide into the free one across from her. The two already diving into their own conversation.
“It’s all in the wrist,” he murmured. He handed me a dart, his breath tickling my ear, and gently guided my hand upward. Unlike James’s rich timbre, his voice was much lighter. It barely tickled my eardrum, where James’s voice sunk deep into my bones.
Why the fuck are you thinking about James? Pull yourself together. That’s the last person you should think about right now.
With Graham’s hand guiding me, I pulled my arm back slightly before throwing the dart toward the board, fully expecting it to bounce off like every other time I’d ever played.
Instead, it stuck. In the far upper left of the board, but it stuck.
“Oh my gosh!” I jumped for joy, completely caught up in the moment. “I did it!”
Graham laughed as he watched me bounce on the balls of my feet. “You did it!”
“Only because I had an excellent teacher.” Graham’s smile deepened and his mouth opened as he prepared to respond but was quickly interrupted. Every ounce of hope that had grown in me over the past five minutes evaporated in an instant as my brain registered the voice.
“I’ll take next.”
James.
He stood a few feet away. Tonight, he was in a navy suit that complemented his tan skin perfectly and if I didn’t find the man infuriating, I would have allowed myself to acknowledge how attractive he looked.
What the fuck was James doing here again? Didn’t this man have any other bars to spend his happy hours at? Or late hours to work as he sold his soul to capitalism?
James better thank his lucky stars that we were in a public place. That was the only reason I wasn’t letting him have it right now.
“Sure, man.” I wanted to scream with frustration as Graham gestured for James to take his spot. Blood drummed in my ears and the corners of my vision grew fuzzy as I stared at the smirk on James’s face.
The last thing I wanted was to let him think he’d swooped in and thwarted my evening once again. If James wanted to play, then we were going to play.
“Graham, do you mind getting me another glass of wine?” I asked lightly, offering him my glass with a smile. He didn’t hesitate, sliding out of his seat almost eagerly. I got some sort of sick thrill from the way James’s eyes narrowed.
“It would be my pleasure.”
I knew I was playing with fire, but I felt strangely brave tonight. Bold, even. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the sting of James’s intervention still lingering like cheap perfume. Either way, I wasn’t going to let him thwart my plans a second time.
“What a fool,” I heard James whisper under his breath as Graham made his way through the throng of people toward the bar.
“What was that?” I asked innocently, batting my lashes in his direction. James’s expression hardened, and I wasn’t sure which one of us was going to crack first.
“Ladies first.” His voice was low as he finally looked away, gesturing to the waiting dart board. Satisfaction bloomed in my chest as I stepped forward. My shoulder brushed against his chest, and I felt the sudden tension in his body before he stepped back, creating space between us.
Following the same tips that Graham had given me earlier, I pulled my arm back and let the dart fly. It bounced off the board with a sad little thud.
“Damnit,” I hissed. Despite having the finesse of a baby deer on ice, I really didn’t want to lose to James.
“You didn’t put enough behind that one.” He moved in closer, and my pulse slowed as the air seemed to warm between us.
“I don’t need your help. I already have Graham’s.”
His jaw tightened. From this close, I could see the different shades of blue in his eyes—far too distracting for my own good.
“Graham’s an idiot and is currently chatting up the bartender,” James said flatly.
I glanced toward the bar. Sure enough, the bartender was leaning across the bar top and Graham looked like he was trying very hard not to drool directly into her cleavage. My empty wineglass was still in his hand.
Refusing to give James the upper hand again, I shrugged. “He’ll be back.”
A smirk tugged at his mouth. “Oh, he’ll be back—to let his friend know he’s staying put until the bartender’s shift ends and skipping the next bar entirely.”
“You are infuriating ,” I snapped. “You’re quite full of yourself, you know that, right?”
Time suspended for a moment as James stepped closer, until his chest hovered just a breath from mine. Our inhales and exhales lined up, synced like some cruel kind of duet.
And then, I heard it—a quiet sound from deep in his throat, like he was swallowing a curse or a groan—before he backed away again. The air between us cooled instantly.
“I’m simply stating facts.” That maddening smirk was back. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you aren’t putting up much of a fight in this game of ours.”
Without breaking the moment, he raised a hand, flicked his wrist, and sent his dart flying.
Bullseye.
“Maybe you need a new teacher, Hal.”
The nickname caught me off guard. People used to call me that when I was a kid—back when I had scraped knees, wild hair, and zero interest in impressing anyone. It was something my sister shouted across the soccer field, something my dad used when he ruffled my hair before dinner.
No one had called me that in years.
And yet, from James, it didn’t sound childish. It sounded intimate. Like a shared secret. Like he’d reached back in time and plucked a piece of me I didn’t even know I’d left behind.
Worse still? I hated that I didn’t hate it.
Then he tipped back his drink, polished it off, and disappeared into the bar—leaving me flushed, frustrated, and not entirely convinced it had anything to do with losing.