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“What time is it?”
“Six-thirty.”
The lump in the bed moved and Eva emerged, hair wild, eyes sleepy. “Seriously? This is what time our day starts at Urban Genie? I resign.”
Sun shone through the windows, illuminating the high ceilings and hardwood floors. Eva’s clothes were strewn around the room, in rainbow colors and assorted textures. A pair of gold flats peeped from under the bed and three bottles of jewel-bright nail polish sat on the bedside table next to a book on how to look fabulous on a budget.
Despite her state of anxiety, Paige smiled. Eva always looked fabulous.
When she’d first arrived in New York, she’d been the only one living with Matt. Eva had been sharing an apartment with her grandmother until she’d moved into sheltered living and the apartment had been sold to fund her care. Eva had been homeless and Paige had asked Matt if she could have a roommate. He hadn’t hesitated. Frankie had joined them a month later.
They were three small-town girls, living in the big city, and soon they were as close as they’d been growing up.
Living with her friends had proved surprisingly easy given their differences, one of the biggest of which was the hours they kept.
Eva was a sloth in the mornings.
“Get up.” Paige gave her friend a nudge. “I want you to design a personalized menu for Baxter and Baxter. I’m calling them later.”
“The ad agency? Star Events pitched for that account.”
“And lost because they weren’t original enough. This is a young, dynamic agency. We need to be equally dynamic. And original.”
“I don’t feel dynamic.” Eva pulled the pillow over her head. “And I can’t be original at six-thirty in the morning. Go away.”
“You have until seven-thirty to shower and be ready in the kitchen with menus.” Paige pulled her hair into a ponytail and glanced at her reflection in the mirror on Eva’s wall.
That brief glance told her that all the panic she felt was safely concealed inside.
Her hair was smooth and straight. Even New York humidity couldn’t put a kink in it.
Eva gave a grunt. “You’re a tyrant. It wouldn’t kill you to have a day off exercise. You’re already in great shape.”
“I won’t be in great shape for long if I don’t run. It’s my stress reliever.” And physical fitness was important to her. Her body had let her down once through no fault of her own. She did what she could to make sure it didn’t let her down again. “Could you fix breakfast? We can eat while we work.”
“I’m reporting you to human resources.” Eva yawned, emerging from under the pillow. “We do have a human resources department, right?”
“I’m it, and your complaint is duly noted. Anything you want me to pick up? I could call in at Petit Pain. Walnut bread? Sourdough loaf? Bagel?” Petit Pain was one of their favorite local bakeries, run by a man who had started baking when his wife had died. He’d discovered a new passion and his business had grown, supported by the local community.
Eva sat up and rubbed her eyes. “We can’t afford it. I’ll make breakfast from scratch. Frankie needs to eat something that isn’t full of additives. She barely ate at all yesterday. It was that text from her mother that started it.”
“Yeah, well, knowing your parents have sex is weird for anyone, but when your mother is sleeping with men the same age as you and bragging about it, it’s so far away from weird there is no word for it. It’s no wonder poor Frankie is damaged.” Paige watched as Eva scooped her mass of sunny hair away from her face. “How come you look so good when you’ve just emerged from under the pillows?”
“My hair looks like a bird’s nest.”
“But it’s a cute bird’s nest. So you don’t want anything?”
“Berries?”
“Berries aren’t comfort food.”
“They are to me. And anyway, we don’t need comfort, we need health. If we’re going to be working hard and subjecting ourselves to bucket loads of stress, we need to strengthen ourselves nutritionally.”
“Berries.” Paige made a mental note. “And more coffee.”
“Coffee is bad for you.”
“Coffee is my life force. Do not go back to sleep.” She ripped the cover off her friend. “Get up. We have things to do, places to be, people to please and fortunes to make. If we’re going to make a success of this, which we are, we’re going to need to work hard. No part-timers.”
Eva grunted. “You sound uncannily like Cynthia.” But she slid her legs out of bed. “What were you and Jake talking about on the terrace last night? You two looked cozy.”
“He was apologizing for being an idiot.” Familiar with Eva’s ability to find romance in any situation, Paige jogged quickly to the door. “Don’t you dare go back to sleep. I’ll see you in an hour.” Relieved to have escaped the inquisition, she ran down the stairs and knocked on the door of the ground-floor apartment.
At least Frankie wouldn’t ask the same question. Frankie didn’t see romance even if a couple were tongue wrestling in front of her.
Her friend answered the door in a pair of pajamas. She was holding a small basil plant in her hand and it was obvious from the dark smudges under her eyes that she hadn’t slept much, either.
Paige wondered if there had been more texts or phone calls from her mother.
“I’m going for a run. Do you want to join me?”
“Dressed like this? I don’t think so.”
“We live in Brooklyn. It’s acceptable to be different.”
“I’m the responsible one in the family, remember? And anyway, I want to finish my model.”
Paige glanced over her shoulder and saw the half-built LEGO model on the table. “Is that the Empire State Building?”
“Yeah. Matt gave it to me for Christmas. I was waiting for a stressful moment to build it.”
“I guess yesterday qualified.” Paige looked at the detail, marveling at Frankie’s dexterity. “Was it the job or your mom that made you open it?”
“Both.” Frankie rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “Look—you don’t have to worry. I’m dealing with some stuff and—it doesn’t matter. Building the model works for me. I’ll meet you when you’re back. I need to tend to my Ocimum basilicum.”
“Your—? Oh, you mean your basil plant. You could just call it a basil plant. On the other hand that would be a waste of your fancy training.” She smoothed down her ponytail. “Right, well I’ll leave you and your Ocimum basilicum in peace and I’ll see you for a breakfast meeting in the Urban Genie offices at seven-thirty.”
Frankie blinked. “We have offices?”
“Your kitchen is our office until we can afford something more official. Ours is a little bigger but your doors open onto the garden and it’s lovely in the summer. And your kitchen table isn’t covered in Eva’s cookery experiments. Don’t prepare anything. Eva is in charge of catering.”
“As long as she doesn’t expect me to drink a kale and spinach smoothie. It’s not often I agree with Jake, but on that we are in total accord.”
Wishing Jake’s name wouldn’t keep coming up in conversation, Paige jogged down the steps to the street.
It was her favorite time of year, when spring nudged the edges of summer and the cherry blossoms and magnolia burst into bloom. They filled the air with scent and color as if the city was celebrating its release from the deep layers of snow that had buried its charms over the long winter months.
In the winter and the height of summer she took spin classes indoors, but right now there was no better way to enjoy the weather and her neighborhood than running.
She loved the wide streets and the symmetry of the historic brownstones shaded by cherry trees. It was quintessential laid-back Brooklyn. Some people chose to live here because they couldn’t afford Manhattan. She lived here because she loved it—the smells, the vibe, the rhythm of the neighborhood. Although it was early, the streets were already alive with activity, and she watched people going about their lives as she ran to the park, feeling the sun warm her neck, breathing in spring air scented with blossom and baking.
The panic of the previous day had eased, along with those unsettling feelings that being with Jake had unleashed.
Today would be all about planning. She’d already had ideas and her light had been on most of the night as she’d made notes.
Like Jake, she loved technology. It satisfied her need for organization and allowed her to track projects and maximize efficiency. Maybe she didn’t understand the detail in the way he did, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy using the results of other people’s creativity.
She tried telling herself that the reason she hadn’t slept much the night before was all down to nerves, excitement and the use of her mobile devices late into the night. Everyone knew that using screens at night was bad, didn’t they?
Her sleepless night had nothing to do with Jake Romano.
Except—
She ran into the park and picked up her pace.
Being evasive with romantic Eva was one thing, but what was the point in lying to herself? Better to admit that she was in trouble. At least that way she would be on her guard. And although she hadn’t wanted to be flattered, his attention had felt nice. He’d boosted her confidence when it had reached the point of collapse. He’d pushed her when she’d wanted to hide and play it safe.
She was accustomed to Jake saying the wrong things. There were days when she was convinced he chose his words with the intention of annoying her, but last night he’d said all the right things. He’d made her feel as if she could do this. He’d given her assurance when she’d needed it most. He’d made her feel—he’d made her feel—
Crap.
She stopped running and bent over to catch her breath, frustrated that he could still make her feel this way.
She’d been seventeen when she’d first laid eyes on him. Because her condition had required specialist care beyond the capabilities of her local hospital, she’d had surgery in a hospital in New York, which meant Matt had been able to visit her.
The first time he’d brought his friend Jake with him, she’d thought she was hallucinating.
It was lucky she hadn’t been rigged up to a heart monitor at the time or she was pretty sure she would have had every doctor in the building running to help with the emergency.
From that moment, everything changed. It was as if someone had flicked a switch and changed her life from black and white to color.
People commented on how brave she was, and how well she coped with the boredom of being in hospital.
What they didn’t know was that she’d spent almost every hour thinking about Jake.
Eyes closed or open, he was always in her head.
She’d lived for his visits, even though she was rarely alone with him. When her dad’s commitments to his law practice in Portland, Maine had prevented him from being by her bedside, her mother had been there, and if neither of them could make it, then Matt was there. Their cumulative anxiety levels had filtered through to her.
Jake was different.
He’d entertained her with outrageous stories, and on the nights when Matt had been studying for exams, it had been Jake who had stayed late, keeping her company.
Paige had fallen in love.
First love.
Everyone said you got over it and they were right.
For her, humiliation had proved to be a magical cure.
Unfortunately sexual attraction hadn’t proved so easily destructible.
Most days it was easy to ignore because Jake was as irritating as he was attractive. But last night—
Last night had been an aberration. A response to the fact she’d lost her job.
Pushing him out of her mind, she took a shortcut that led through the trees back to the street.
Early-morning sun was the best, she thought. Bright and mood lifting, and after the long bitter chill of winter it was blissful to be outdoors.
She passed people she knew and exchanged a smile and a few words.
New York was a city of neighborhoods, and the neighborhood where they lived felt like a village. Wide, leafy streets were lined with historic brownstones and row houses, bustling cafés, family-owned stores brimming with fresh produce, flower and craft shops. Families had lived in the area for generations.
In the evenings the air was filled with the sounds of children playing and crickets chirping, the smooth notes of someone practicing the saxophone against an accompaniment of honking horns and the occasional shriek of a siren.
She loved the fact that within minutes of walking out of her door she could take a spin class, buy a slice of cheesecake, have a haircut or join a yoga session in the park. She could buy everything from fried chicken to organic smoothies.
Within two blocks of their brownstone there was a thriving independent bookstore, an art gallery and Petit Pain, the bakery that doubled as a coffee shop. And, of course, there was Romano’s, the local Italian restaurant owned by Jake’s mother. In the summer their tables spilled into the street, a web of vines shading the eating area from the bright evening sun.
Frankie believed they made the best pizza anywhere in New York City, and given that she’d eaten pizza on almost every street at one point or another, no one argued with her.
This early the tables were empty but already the scent of garlic and oregano wafted through the air.
The door to the kitchen was open and Paige ducked through it. As expected, Maria Romano was already at work making pasta.
“Buongiorno.” That was one of the few words of Italian Paige admitted to knowing. The others were her secret, part of a time when she’d deluded herself into thinking something might happen between her and Jake.
“Paige!”
Instantly she was embraced by flour and affection. “Am I disturbing you?”
“Never. How are you?”
Paige took a deep breath. She’d fallen in love with Maria Romano from the first moment Jake and Matt had introduced her. It had been during her first week in college, when being in New York had felt like landing on an alien planet.
“I didn’t get the promotion. I lost my job.”
Maria released her. “Jake told me. He called by last night. I have been worried about you. Sit down. Have you eaten?”
“I’m having breakfast with Frankie and Eva. We have things to talk about. But coffee would be good.” It didn’t surprise her that Jake had called by. He was fiercely protective of Maria, who had taken him in when he was six and later adopted him. It was Jake who had bought the restaurant and provided his mother, her brother and several cousins with employment and accommodation.
Five minutes later Paige was sitting with a cup of perfect espresso in front of her telling Jake’s mother everything from her meeting with Cynthia through to an edited version of the conversation on the roof terrace.
She wasn’t sure exactly when she’d started to confide in Maria. It had happened gradually after she’d moved in with Matt in her first year of college.
Too busy to cook, he’d taken her to Romano’s to make sure she had a decent meal once in a while. Friday evenings in Romano’s had become as much of a routine as their Saturday movie nights, and those evenings spent with her friends, against the backdrop of sounds and smells from the restaurant, were often the best part of the week for Paige. She loved the warm family environment, the laughter, the controlled chaos. Maria was caring, without being smothering. Somehow it was easier to talk to her than it was her own mother, simply because she didn’t feel the pressure of someone trying to protect her.
