“Will is a mid-level editor at a publishing company and was here because he’s working on a cookbook by Chef André and felt obligated. He does at least know his way around a set of premeasured ingredients.”
“You gonna see him again?”
“If he calls me, I will die of shock.”
Paige laughed. “Aw, why?”
“It’s pretty clear that Will has a huge unrequited crush on a guy in his office. He wouldnotstop talking about that guy. Brian says this, Brian says that, ugh.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Paige looked around the room. Now that the cooking and eating were done, the crowd was thinning rapidly. “Remind me of the point of this again?”
“Worth a shot, I guess,” said Evan. “I need to move on from Darius and Pablo and all the unavailable men in my life, and you need to move on from Josh, but good lord, dating in the twenty-first century sure is gimmicky.”
Paige laughed.
“There’s a fantastic pizza place a couple of blocks from here, and I could sure use something to eat after Will ate all my vegetables. Wanna get out of here?”
Paige linked her arm with Evan’s. “Yes, let’s.”
* * *
Josh walked into the conference room reluctantly. Randolph’s whole appearance was off-putting. He looked like a mob boss out of Central Casting, in a sleek gray suit with his hair slicked back and a day’s worth of silvery stubble on his jaw. He sat across from Josh at the conference table and passed him a piece of paper.
“There’s an issue with one of my buildings in Chicago,” Randolph said. “That’s the name of my lawyer there. She can fill you in. Mr. Provost said I should ask you to get in touch.”
“Oh.” Josh unfolded the piece of paper. It saidMegan Stanhopeand a phone number.
Of fucking course.
“What’s the issue?” Josh asked.
“A tenant claims she slipped on ice in front of the building, but it’s a garbage claim. It wasn’t even cold enough to be icy the day she slipped. Call Ms. Stanhope. She’ll fill you in.” Randolph glanced at the phone number. “She also went to Georgetown. Do you know her?”
“Yep,” said Josh. “She was in my class.”
“Great! Then she can get you up to speed.”
Josh’s desire to call Megan ranked alongside his desire to jump into a tank full of sharks. “Why do you think I should call her? This seems like a local matter.”
Randolph waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s just say, I need to move some money around. Talk to Megan. She’ll explain.”
Josh walked back to his office wanting to kick something. He interpreted Randolph’s comment about needing to move money around as needing to get out of the lawsuit in Chicago, so he could put some of those funds toward his various potential real estate holdings in New York. Josh was no accountant, but that seemed shady.
But worse than that, now Josh had to call Megan, of all people. The only reason he was reasonably functional was that he’d put Megan very firmly in a box labeledpastand had no intention of ever speaking to her again. The last thing he wanted, especially given the situation with Paige, was to open that box and relive the memories.
He figured he should rip off the Band-Aid, though. His stomach flopped as he picked up his office phone. He was glad Randolph had given him a phone number because he’d taken Megan’s out of his cell phone. He’d wanted a clean break so he could get on with his life. And he thought he had moved on but having to think about talking to Megan was bringing it all back.
He took a deep breath and dialed.
“Stanhope,” she answered.
“Hi, Megan, it’s Josh.”
There was a long, drawn-out pause. “Josh.”
“Just so you know, this isn’t a social call. I’m calling on behalf of my boss, who is representing David Randolph. Mr. Randolph asked that I call you about the lawsuit regarding his building in Chicago.”
“Ah, of course. A cosmic coincidence.”
