Page 37 of Rejected Heart
I snagged myself a job as a ticket seller to Broadway shows. And I understood it was just a job. Not the career I ultimately wanted to have. No way would I have left Landing behind to come here for this.
But I needed income to survive, and for now, this job was providing that.
In an unusual turn of events, I was walking to a local café to grab some lunch. Since I was keen on saving as much money as I could, I didn’t typically splurge for meals out, choosing to pack instead. But things had been chaotic this morning after I’d had a restless night and overslept.
On top of attempting to sort out my life and career, I’d been trying to work through that, too. The things that often kept me awake at night. Not every night, not always, and perhaps one thing in particular.
No.
No, I wouldn’t think about that now.
I made it to the café, ordered a sandwich, and stepped off to the side to wait for it to be made. In the rare instances that I needed to get lunch—or dinner, depending on my schedule—out somewhere, I tried to order ahead of time. Today just happened to be a disasterfor time management all the way around. And for someone like me, someone who prided herself and thrived on her organizational skills, today was not a good indicator of my talents.
“Busy in here today.”
At the sound of the masculine voice just a bit too close to me, I deduced someone was speaking to me. My head snapped to the right and confirmed I wasn’t mistaken. There was a man I didn’t know standing there, looking at me with a friendly smile on his face.
I jerked my chin down and returned the smile. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Do you come here often?”
I shook my head. “No. This is only my second time.”
Understanding dawned as he tipped his head back. “Ah, I see. Well, this is my first time here, so I’m glad you’ve made a return trip. That must mean the food is good.”
I hadn’t really given it that much thought. This spot was close enough to where I worked, and I knew what to expect coming here. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
This was one of those rare instances in a place like Manhattan. As a kid, I never had the opportunity to visit a place like this. But within a few days of being here, I’d quickly learned how things worked.
Individuals didn’t often stand around making small talk. It really was a bustling place with people who were constantly on the go. Whether to their next corporate meeting or off to broker another real estate deal, most New Yorkerswere busy.
I could understand why some outsiders considered them rude, but I quickly learned that wasn’t the case at all. New Yorkers were often happy to help; they just didn’t want all the unnecessary stuff in the process.
Like, if you needed directions, just ask. They love giving directions. But they don’t want the story about why you came to the city, who you came with, and what your plans were for the day. They have their own places to be.
Of course, that didn’t mean nobody had casual conversation. It happened, but it was infrequent.
“I’m Mark, by the way.”
“Layla.”
“Nice to meet you, Layla. So, do you have any other spots you can recommend? I just recently moved here, and I’m still learning the lay of the land.”
Well, that explained the casual conversation. He wasn’t from here.
Uninterested in getting myself into a mess of a situation without wanting to be unnecessarily rude, I let out a laugh and confessed, “Oh, I wouldn’t be the person to ask. I recently moved here, too.”
“No kidding? Where are you from?”
“A small town in Pennsylvania called Landing.”
“Ah, I’ve never heard of it. I came here about a month ago from Virginia. I was in the Roanoke area.”
“Layla!”
I turned toward the counter, saw the woman holding up a bag, and said, “That’s me.”
She handed the bag over. “You’re all set.”
