It had been awkward as hell when I’d told him I was moving, even more so because he’d just finished asking me if I’d think about us being more than casual. The way his face had crumpled at the news had almost had me reconsidering my decision.
Almost.
After he’d congratulated me—which was more than I deserved—he’d said, “I think you should go now.” And so I had, because what else was I supposed to do?
I hadn’t heard from him since. And while I understood, I missed him. I hadn’t been lying when I’d said if he’d asked me the week before, I would have said yes to something more. IlikedDanny. It was just that our timing was shit.
Thinking about Danny and how I wouldn’t get to see him any more took some of the shine off my good mood, and when the server brought my sandwich, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I’d thought I would.
The prickling realization at the back of my mind also didn’t help. An internal voice kept asking why my first instinct had been to call Danny and not my parents or my brother.Danny. My internal voice looked a lot like a prosecutor from TV, and he was a dog who wouldn’t let go of a bone.It’s interesting, isn’t it, Miller, that you wanted to call Danny? Who, as you’ve already told the court, is just a casual acquaintance.
And no, I had no idea who the court was.
Do you tell all your casual acquaintances your life-changing news before telling your family, Miller?
And no, there was no defense attorney there to object to the leading question and no judge to sustain the objection. There was just that asshole prosecutor, so the question hung there while I squirmed in the witness box inside my own dumb brain and tried not to answer.
I walked the rest of the way back to my hotel at a slower pace, soaking up the noise and the atmosphere of the city. I wondered if I’d be able to find somewhere affordable to live nearby—for New York values of affordable, at least—then shook my head at my optimism. It was more likely I’d end up spending a good chunk of my day on the subway. But that was the price of city living, I guessed. No more five-minute commutes for me. Ten, if there was traffic. At least now I’d have plenty of time to discover new podcasts, right?
I headed up to my room, which was small but had everything I needed in twelve different shades of beige and far too many throw pillows. I took my laptop out and opened it on the little table and then sat down to read through the bunch of emails HR at Winston, Baker and Fisk had already sent through. As I worked my way through the paperwork, reading up on what the company was offering and what was expected in return, it was clear that this would be nothing like working at Fisher Law. But I was pretty sure I was up for the challenge.
I hoped so, anyway.
It was only after lunch, and I could have killed hours in the city doing a bunch of touristy stuff—hell, maybe I could have even seen a show. But for some reason I didn’t want to go out again.
Snarky internal prosecutor was back:And why is that, Miller? Isn’t New York everything you wanted it to be?
Of course it was. And I’d be living here soon, and I’d have plenty of time to see the sights then.
Between getting up before six to make it to work early and getting home sometime after ten when you finish work, because you just had to stay late for some important client?
I was really starting to hate that guy. And I’d have weekends for fun stuff.
Well, most weekends.
Well,someweekends.
Okay, so my work/life balance was going to be skewed heavily toward work for the foreseeable future because I was the new guy and I had to prove myself. That was how things were. And it was fine, really. This was all part of the plan. And it wasn’t like I had anyone to go to those shows with anyway.
Yet.
I didn’t have anyoneyet.But I planned to check out the club scene, and I was bound to find someone to hook up with and maybe date.
The thought didn’t sit right, and I got up and took a bottle of water from the minifridge. Paced back and forth while I took a few swigs and pretended that thinking about some potential future boyfriend didn’t sting. Some potential future boyfriend who probably wouldn’t wear a trucker cap, and have grubby stains on his jeans, and the nicest hazel eyes I’d ever seen. Some potential future boyfriend who wouldn’t laugh at my choice in podcasts and make me listen to Creedence instead when we were driving somewhere. Some potential future boyfriend who wasn’t Danny.
Your casual acquaintance, Dan?—
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I muttered and took another swig of water. I stared angrily out the window at the brick wall opposite and then paced some more.
This was amazing news, and I was going to do what I should have done in the first place and call my folks. They more than anyone knew how a job at a big New York law firm was my long-time goal. They’d be thrilled.
My mom picked up on the second ring. “Miller? What’s wrong?”
“Hey, Mom. Why would something be wrong?”
“Because it’s a Tuesday afternoon, and you don’t make personal calls during working hours.”
Unless you’re calling Danny.
